#it is WARM as hell out & I am all alone but I persist. trying this whole ‘doing it scared’ thing you guys keep hyping up

[theexorcistiii]

Kicked out of goth nite for looking like if one of the cats from cats was Halloween themed

[wolviensabes]

SFW Alphabet: Wolverine

a/n: yayyy I am writing a new character finally. I've been wanting to do Wolverine for a while, I just got around to doing it. Especially after D&W, I can't help myself. So like my main, I will start off with the alphabet and gradually write more into him. My characterization will be mixed based on film, show, and comic so not one specific source. I have never written this character before so the way I write him may change as I continue. This is also unedited ignore mistakes <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?):

Logan is a fairly affectionate dude, once you get past his gruff and rugged outer layer. He will pull you close to him and let you lay on him or snuggle up close. He's very warm and makes the perfect heater since he generally likes to keep his room cold to combat his body temperature.

He enjoys cuddling, though he won't outright say it. He likes feeling you lay close and seek him out for comfort and warmth regardless of the time of day or situation. He won't ever deny you that.

He likes to ruffle your hair and he will lightly nip at you and grin when you give him a surprised look.

He's all for hugs, he likes when you hug him and try to hug as tight as you can, he's completely unfazed. Sometimes he will grab you and lift you up, and laugh when you try to do the same. His adamantium skeleton weighs him down more than you thought. He's strong as hell to be able to move so much and you realize it the moment you try that.

When you lay close he will rub your back or idly rub another part of your body. Any kind of touch he can get. His fingers are so warm, it feels especially good if you're shirtless laying on him. He really enjoys skin to skin contact.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?):

He'd be a bit of a loner, but in the end he will always come through. He's hard to initially bond with, so be prepared for him disappearing a lot, hopefully you are a patient person.

At first he might not want to bond with anyone because his life is a roller coaster of shit, but persistence might wear him down enough to let you in his friend circle.

He's the type to drink with you, have a cigar and talk about whatever. He's down for brawling, he likes to mess around in that sense.

But Logan likes his alone time too, so balancing out social and private time is important. If you push too much I think he will back off a lot. He's had a shit life and if he cares a lot about you, he might not want it to be too obvious you are important to him. A specific mutant tends to kill off his close relationships.

*cough* Sabretooth *cough*

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?):

He does, he just won't admit it. I don't see Logan as a touchy feely guy with words, his actions mean a lot more than what he says.

Logan accepts cuddling basically anytime you want, just get close and snuggle up against him.

He might invite you to do so if he notices that you want to but are too unsure to initiate it.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?):

It's shown that Logan has settled down before. So he'd do it again with the right person.

He would rather be the type to support or provide rather than be the one to cook and clean, but he will lend a hand if necessary.

Compromise is possible. He might make a huge mess in the kitchen though.

I can see him working a grill pretty well.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?):

Straightforward and to the point. He'd tell you about his past and how complicated his life is, and he doesn't want you caught up in the mess of it too.

Logan might try to break things off after they get serious, worrying about what could happen to you, but if you insist, he will stay. He just doesn't want you to get hurt.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?):

It would take a while before Logan would be ready for marriage. The life of an X-Man is complicated enough, and his especially is hard to handle. He wouldn't want to settle down for a long time.

But once you find that sweet spot, and have a long conversation and understand the concerns and dangers, he would be willing. You just have to be careful.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?):

Logan is naturally more rough than most, but he can be gentle when he wants to be or needs to be. He has a good heart, despite what he likes to portray himself as.

He's able to caress and hold you like a man who hasn't been through the worst Hell of his life, and he's able to understand and connect with you emotionally too. He does try his best for you, even if he isn't very good at first.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?):

He does. He likes when you hug him. As mentioned before, he likes to lift you up and he chuckles as you try to lift him (and fail).

He throws you over his shoulder when he picks you up and he teases you as you try to squirm away.

A lot of the time your hugs turn into play fights.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?):

For Logan, saying that would take a long time. He'd be very reluctant to admit it or even begin a relationship in the first place so he doesn't want to endanger you by admitting he has such intense feelings for you.

When he does, he makes sure you two are alone and he whispers it to you either when you are being intimate together, or he admits it to you after something happens where he thought he lost you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?):

Logan doesn't necessarily get 'jealous' but I can see him being very possessive. He knows his partner wouldn't cheat and he is very comfortable and secure in his relationship with you, but sometimes he can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

He will come up to you and growl at the person he feels jealous of, possessively wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you closer to him, glaring daggers at the person.

I can totally see him unsheathing his claws and asking you how they look, he claims he 'polished them' and wants you to see, but it's just a way for him to further intimidate the person in front of you.

It always works.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?):

Naturally, he's a bit messy. He likes kisses that leave you breathless, but are pretty passionate and demanding. He will kiss you until you are pulling back to breathe, and he lets you take a few breaths before diving back in for more.

He bites your lip, his tongue explores your mouth, the works. His hands are gripping onto you and holding you flush against him, his dominance fully showing when he is kissing you and you cannot complain.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?):

Logan doesn't really like being around kids, but he's surprisingly good with them. he's not mean to the kids obviously, he just prefers not to be around them. He doesn't like 'babysitting,' even though he's been forced to do so multiple times.

He has a natural instinct to protect, and he's proven time and time again that despite his attitude towards the children around the mansion, he's protected the entire mansion and the children inside with ferocity.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?):

Grumpier than normal, if that's even possible. He hates mornings. He'd much rather wake up on his own and have the time to slowly wake up fully and start his day than awake to an alarm.

He has trouble sleeping at night because of nightmares, so by the time morning comes, he's fallen asleep. He wakes up late morning to mid afternoon on a good day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?):

Logan is more active at night due to his nightmares. He doesn't sleep well and rarely gets a good night's rest. When you came along, he asked if you could sleep in another room since he woke up swinging a lot. But gradually your presence helped and you were there for him when he woke from his nightmares.

Now, he can sleep without waking up and worrying about hurting you. Nightmares still plague him, but they're much quieter when you sleep beside him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?):

Logan has to be open with certain things, just for your safety. You learn things with him about his past and himself, he does try to keep some of the things he's done to himself just to prevent any possible arguments from you asking too many questions. Logan doesn't like to sit and explain why he did things he had to do, especially if it's generally something considered to be bad.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?):

To a degree, he's...somewhat patient. He can snap quickly, but he is verbal about his irritation before he acts on it.

But this can also depend on the person annoying him. Some people just make him act before he can even get the words out.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?):

He has a very good memory, I mean he remembers things from decades ago, so he can remember something simple like your favorite song or color.

He remembers little things. Your favorite things, how you enjoy specific scents or tastes, and all the meaningful stuff that warms your heart that he remembers.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?):

I don't think he has one specific thing he enjoys the most. I would say maybe the first time he could actually sleep without worry of hurting you and he woke up feeling pleasantly rested, because you were by his side and he didn't have any nightmares.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?):

Congratulations, you have an insane attack animal on your hands.

Logan is insanely protective over you. He can't help himself. You are his, and he needs to keep you safe at all times.

It's in his nature, and sometimes he can't turn it off. He's always hovering over you, watching the people around you and making sure no one is looking at you for too long.

He's very vigilant by nature, so his head is almost constantly on a swivel despite his cool appearance.

Logan wouldn't hesitate to fuck someone up if you asked him to, or defend you at any time. He'd break someone's nose for talking bad about you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?):

He would try as much as you liked him to, I think for him, getting you flowers or treats that you like is his default until he recognizes what means the most to you and he begins to do that.

As for planning things, he mostly leaves that for you unless you want him to plan something. He's very open to doing whatever you want, as long as you're happy.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?):

At the beginning of your relationship, he disappears a lot and his communication is shit. It makes you think that he isn't very reliable, and it causes some drifts in your relationship early on. He also doesn't explain a whole lot at first, but once you progress further he gets better at communication.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?):

Logan is a very rugged man, he doesn't spend too much on his looks, but he does enough not to be considered unhygienic. Otherwise his concern for his appearance isn't very strong. Unless you had a problem with it, he wouldn't put any more effort into his looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?):

Once you get to the bonded stage, he doesn't want to be apart from you. He cares a lot about you and once he admits to loving you, he is fully committed. Nothing could keep him from you and he'd tear a rift in the world to get to you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.):

Play fighting is one of his love languages. He loves to play fight. He can win, every time, you know that. But he still likes to wrestle around and let you think you're winning...then he pins you down within seconds.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Anyone who would try to boss him around in an annoying way or try to change him. He doesn't want a partner who tries to change who he is. He wants to be accepted, he wants to be able to be himself. Playful bossing around is different, but if you genuinely try to make him do every single thing you say, you two will butt heads and you won't be compatible.

If you nag too much that would annoy him. He drinks, he smokes cigars, you either have to deal with it or say nothing. He will continue to do it regardless of your personal opinion about it.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?):

Logan tries to get as much sleep as he can, but he has chronic nightmares so sometimes it's very difficult for him to sleep fully during the night. Having you with him helps, and gradually as you sleep beside him, his nightmares calm enough for him to sleep through the night without waking up swinging or trying to stab the closest thing near him.

He generally sleeps late at night to late morning or early afternoon, he doesn't keep normal sleeping hours.

He likes having you by his side when he does sleep, he feels more secure with you tucked under his arms and snuggled into his chest. Your presence, your scent...everything, it helps relax him enough to fall asleep.

He always sleeps closest to the door so he can jump up and protect you if necessary.

Thanks for reading.

*SNIKT*

dividers by @/strangergraphics

[laurfilijames]

All I Want...

Pairing: Will Miller x reader

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst. Swearing. PTSD. Panic attack. Mentions of an unhappy childhood, military service, personnel being KIA. Tom's death. Grief. People being unhappy at Christmas. (There's some fluff too, bear with me!)

Summary: Will tries to fight off a panic attack early on Christmas morning, his unenthusiastic feelings toward the holiday making him feel guilty on top of everything else on his mind, only to be reminded that it's okay to not feel festive and that he's not alone.

A/N: I'll be the first one to admit that Christmas isn't all it's cracked up to be sometimes. People often call me Scrooge, but I've learned over the years to prioritize my mental health around the holidays and take it all in stride. To those who struggle in any kind of way this time of year, I see you, and this is for you.

This fic follows some of my headcanons about the Miller brothers in that they didn't have a great upbringing, and that Will often suffers from poor sleep and panic attacks.

---

Scrooge. The Grinch.

These were some of the names bestowed upon Will over the years, his less than enthusiastic feelings toward Christmas noticed and pointed out as often as possible during the holiday season by those closest to him, mainly Benny.

It was innocent enough, his brother, Fish and Pope all aware and understanding to the reasons why Will wasn’t overly excited, but sometimes it got under his skin and the temptation to tell Ben to fuck off sat on the tip of his tongue on more than one occasion when he got going on a roll of teasing him.

He always tried his best to keep his opinions to himself, not caring to bring it up in order to avoid the shock and disbelief that someone could hate Christmas, having to stand and painfully listen to whoever was scolding his humbug ways try to convert him and preach all the reasons why it was so magical.

He had been this way for as long as he could remember, the earliest memories of an unhappy Christmas morning tucked away in the back of his mind until they inevitably were pushed back to the surface each time the radio stations turned their usual music to all the annoying holiday songs and people started asking the mundane “Are you ready for Christmas?” questions to everyone who never wanted to give an honest answer. He could always see the stress most people carried with them this time of year, the worry of spending money they didn’t have and not meeting expectations evident on their faces as they frantically rushed around to get all the things ticked off their lists to make the day ‘perfect’.

Perfect was never a word Will would use to describe any of his past Christmases, the thought making him scoff and shake his head as he looked up at the night sky, counting the stars as a way to try to clear the persistent thoughts that had gotten him out of bed at 3:26 AM.

Vivid images that he had tried to blur and forget always reappeared no matter how hard he tried; his parents yelling from the kitchen loud enough he had to peel Benny and his one toy from under the tree to go outside to get away from the anger, not to mention the countless Christmas mornings he woke up to gunfire or spent the day trudging through the rain and freezing cold, or had sweat clinging to his back in the heat of the desert, more often than not spending December 25th on tour and deployed somewhere that mimicked hell.

Will couldn’t help but feel guilt more than usual on days like today, thinking of all the families whose sons or daughters, husbands or wives and everything between never made it home to celebrate another Christmas with them, that shame becoming part of the reason he tended to make sure he was always off serving somewhere, not feeling like he deserved to be in the warm comforts of home with those he loved.

Add that to the long list of things his ex resented him for, one more thing he could never do right, and something else she refused to make an effort to understand despite him trying to explain it.

Today it seemed to all weigh more than it normally did.

Tom’s death was still fresh in all their minds, this being the first Christmas Molly and the girls would have to spend without him, and the thought of their irreparable grief made Will want to crumble.

He exhaled a long breath, blowing it out shakily from his lungs, his chest feeling tight as his heart pounded inside it like a caged animal.

He inhaled as slowly as he could manage, one, two, three, counting in his head to gain control over the quickly rising panic.

Exhaling out, one, two, three, his heart still hammering, his pulse furiously thrumming in his neck.

His hand shook as he lifted it up to rub the back of his neck roughly, feeling sweat accumulating on it and dampening his palm that was equally wet.

The steadiness of the number of seconds between each laboured breath was doing little to keep him calm, the thoughts of his conversation with you a couple of days prior echoing in his mind to drown them out along with the ringing in his ears.

You swore up and down a hundred times that you were fine with not celebrating, assuring him that you were relieved to not make a fuss over Christmas and reminding him that your own views of it were also plagued by unhappy memories; that being alone with him was more a gift than anything wrapped in paper and bows under a tree. He knew you meant it when you said you wanted to hide away with him until the madness of it all was over, but now his mind was playing tricks on him, making him doubt your words and sending him into a tailspin over projecting his attitude toward it on you.

But he knew you wouldn’t lie to him.

He kept on that train of thought as his fingers wrapped around the railing on the deck, gripping into the wood as hard as he could, feeling the splintered pieces from years of weather digging into his skin. Drawing in another short breath and gasping slightly, he did his best to remember why he came outside in the first place, seeking fresh air that ironically had become suffocating.

One, two, three, he repeated to himself again, closing his eyes to better focus on slowing his breathing down.

A minute and thirty-seven seconds had passed with him concentrating, able to let the consistency of the numbers aid him as he continued to count, the feel of your warm hands slipping up his cold, clammy back allowing him to finally release the tension he had been holding in his shoulders.

“I’m okay,” he muttered, his voice lacking the conviction he hoped it had.

“I never thought you weren’t,” you whispered, your hands still pressing reassuringly on his torso as you moved beside him, your lips meeting his shoulder to kiss it twice.

Will smiled, grateful for your belief in him, never making him feel weak or like he needed saving, simply there with a love and empathy he had sought his whole life.

He released his grip on the rail and glanced over at you, shooting you a weak smile gathering you in his arms for a hug, kissing the top of your head appreciatively while you continued to rub your hands in a calming, languid pattern across his skin.

“I love you,” he murmured, feeling his heart beat in a stronger rhythm different from how it had moments ago.

“I love you too, Will,” your lips moved against his chest, your arms squeezing him a little tighter as you pressed yourself closer to his body.

“You’re sure you’re happy to spend Christmas this way?”

“More than happy,” you reiterated, pulling your face away to look at him, his blue eyes like flames against the deep navy of the night sky.

“Okay,” he sighed, leaning in to kiss you.

“You know there’s that song, ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’,” you smiled, watching his expression change, his grin stretching out to form the creases in his cheeks as he shook his head.

“Please don’t sing it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Will chuckled and kissed you again, slowly, his tongue slipping into your mouth with a gentle demand.

“Let’s get back to bed,” he said quietly, nodding toward the house after he broke the seal of your lips.

As he led you into the house, your fingers laced with his, he thought how maybe he could find ways to celebrate Christmas with you that wouldn’t make it all seem so terrible, the idea of creating your own traditions somewhat exciting to him.

He smiled at you over his shoulder, stopping in the middle of the hallway where he clasped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, his body pressing into yours with a need to show you just how much you meant to him, knowing that as long as he was with you he could face anything.

---

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated and if you'd like to be added or removed from my taglist please let me know! 💗

Taglist: @sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part One

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 1.2k Series warnings (may update between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, angst, death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings

How it all started

I wake up to the first knock.

The apartment is warm, despite the fact that it's the second month into winter, and quiet. Peaceful, even. Winnie is probably already at work. The café doesn't need me for at least another hour.

I turn my head to look at the clock on the nightstand. 8 a.m. I can't think of a single reason why someone would be knocking here so early, so I roll over and try to go back to sleep, thinking that I might've just imagined it. Last night was a long one. I couldn't fall asleep, so I stayed awake watching endless reruns of Friends until - at 3 a.m. - I finally knocked out.

It's times like these, when the insomnia kicks in and I feel completely alone, when I can't wait for Alex to be home.

Alex, my heroic older brother. The SAS soldier always on some mission or other to save the world. He's on another top secret op at the moment, but last time we spoke he said that it looked like they'd be home at the end of the month. The new unit he's been assigned to have been keeping him occupied. He couldn't tell me much on the call, but it sounds like they've welcomed him into the fold with open arms, just like all the other units he's worked with in the past. That and he's still worried about me - something that he's been in a perpetual state of since the dawn of time.

Hopefully he'll be home soon though.

Just as my eyes start to close, there's another knock at the door. This one's more persistent.

Definitely not in my imagination.

I throw the covers to the side, adjusting the hem of the heavy knitted sweater I fell asleep in to make sure that it's people-appropriate, and stepping into my slippers as I make a beeline for the door. I drag my feet out of my bedroom and down the hallway towards the front door.

When I open it, my heart drops into the pit of my stomach.

There's a tall man with light brown hair and a beanie standing out in the hallway. His dark eyes are tired but kind, a thick scruffy beard covering his jawline as he stands there, hands behind his back, feet shoulder-width apart. He takes one look at my slight frame, half-hidden behind the door and closes his eyes, shaking his head with a quiet, "Bloody fucking hell."

I tilt my head to one side, confused. I'm just about to ask him if I know him when he says, "Are you Talia Keller? Alex's sister?"

Just like that, my heart starts thundering inside my ribcage. I reach out to put a hand on the doorframe, knowing that it's all I can do to stop my knees from buckling.

The stranger on my doorstep meets my eyes once again and I can see it.

"Please...no-"

He shakes his head, those kind eyes refusing to shy away from my tear-filled gaze. "It is with deep regret and my upmost sympathy that I am here to inform you of the death of your brother, Operations Officer Alex Keller. He died on active duty, contributing to a rescue mission that, because of his sacrifice, saved a lot of lives." I choke on a sob. "I am so very sorry for your loss."

My vision blurs and the sound that leaves my mouth is horrible. It's a sob, so loud and violent that I almost can't believe I made it. "No," I whimper.

"May I come inside?" the stranger asks, nodding past me at the empty apartment. His hands aren't behind his back now. They're in front of him, palms open like he's placating a wounded animal.

My own sobbing eclipses any other noise in the hallway as I take a few shaky steps back, giving him access to the doorway. He walks inside slowly, like he's giving me time to take the unspoken invitation back. I don't.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep myself from falling apart. But my brother is dead. My sweet, perfect brother who I'll never see again.

"I- oh god, I'm going to be sick," I manage to choke out, stumbling back until I hit the side of my armchair.

The stranger swoops in then, gently easing me down onto the sofa. I shouldn't let him - shouldn't have let this man into my home. He could be anyone. But he spoke about Alex with the reverence of someone who knew him personally. He must of to be here now, telling me this awful, fucked up news.

I tip forward, my head finding my hands as I cradle myself, my whole body shaking with the effort of not crumbling to the ground.

Alex was all I had left. We were orphans: each other's only living relatives. Now I'm alone.

"Is there anyone I could call for you?" the man asks, his gravelly voice even softer than it was to begin with. I hate his sympathy with a passion, but I don't have the energy to call him on it. "You shouldn't be alone at a time like this. Alex told me that the two of you were very close."

The words bring a fresh wave of pain ripping straight through my heart.

His question reminds me of Winnie. She's already made enough sacrifices for me; I can't pull her away from her work. I don't know what to do. There's no one else I can call. It was Alex and Winnie. Winnie and Alex. No one else.

"Alex was... he was all I had." The words both sound and feel pathetic as they leave my mouth. I lift my head and see that he's watching me, dark eyes far from judgemental. "I can't- I don't know what..."

"Look," he says softly, one large paw of a hand coming to rest on my upper arm, his warmth radiating through the thick cable-knit. "Take a deep breath for me. He wouldn't want this for you."

We sit there for a while as I calm myself down, getting through the worst of hyperventilating. Slowly, the tears come to a weak ebb. A numbness fills me; a disbelief that he's truly gone.

"I know that this is probably the last thing on your mind right now, but we had him cremated. It was written in his file that that's what he wanted. We'll send the ashes and his dog tags to you as per his request." He shifts in the armchair. I can't help but notice just how haunted he looks as he meets my gaze. "My name is Captain Price, but you can call me John. I was your brother's unit commander. You might not want to talk to me right now - might blame me even - and I understand that, but I'll leave my personal phone number here with you. If you ever need anything, anything at all, please call me."

I nod softly, rubbing my knuckles along the undersides of my eyes. "Thank you, John."

He nods once then stands up, the muscles of his thighs straining against the sandy-khaki material of his cargos. Instead of heading straight for the door, he walks across to the desk, opening Winnie's smiley face notepad and writing a number down on the first blank page. His number.

I don't look up when he leaves. The door closes with a soft click and then - just like Alex - he's gone.

a/n: hey guys! hope y'all liked part one. don't worry - you'll meet the guys very soon... sorry if this part was a little bit boring, just want to set the scene before all the good stuff happens 🙃 - see ya soon, lapetitelapin

[alicenaivory]

【•⊱𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐇𝐲𝐦𝐧𝐬—𝐈𝐈𝐈•⊱】

[Voices Of The Damned. That is the only thing I can call these voices as they chatter endlessly, rattling my brain and feasting on my pain. My mind would never be my own again and this void won’t stop swallowing me.

The thought of living weighed down on ones brain like it was the hardest to endure but somehow dying sounded much easier. Who would’ve ever thought dying (vampirism) would make you feel more alive and for some just deader than before?

Deader than this man here slumped in the chair. Killing him should’ve stopped this hollow inside me from growing, it was supposed to quiet the noise but it never lasted.

I knew better than this. The pain never stops!

The voices will always persist, throwing all my insecurities at me. Piercing a dark void in my brain until finally I do the honors of removing my daylight ring so the flames consume me.

So I relied on the suffering of others, it quieted the noise but the silence never lasted.

I was only fooling myself.

Wasting my eternity creating a circle of toxicity.

I should grow up. It won’t be long before I’m knocking at the door of two hundred years on earth with nothing real to show for it. Nothing about the number of people I killed would be impressive or matter in the end.

The thought of being the age of an ancient, pulling the same shenanigans would be embarrassing and shameful to me.

I often find myself missing the days when things were innocent. When I wasn’t as cool fleshed and human blood pumped through my veins. I use to recoil at anything that reminded me of being one of them. To be warm and fuzzy, feeling things without the noise.

I’d drown out the sound of my screaming mother and father as I lie outside in the grass. Not to watch the stars but to imagine peace and silence. It’ll be ruined the minute I’d step back in my house and mother would find any reason to yell about the dirt in my dress.

I’d still hold onto hope, reminding myself there would be better days.

But I’ve come a long way from her. I was very far from the girl who enjoyed the peace and quiet. Further from my reach with the girl who wanted better days.

Now I was the one to ruin the better days and turn a town to gloomy death and fog.

I was the girl who feasted on the screams and suffering of others.

I craved the chaos.

It’s been this way for centuries now and I did seek a chance to start over and do better but that’ll never be with this fractured mind.

Here I am in a new city, new place and space to start over and yet I have somehow made another mess of myself.

I’ve been asked “Doesn’t it get exhausting?” and truth be told. There’s nothing more exhausting than it.

Nothing more lonely and tiresome than spending your immortal life stuck in the same place. It’s like I’m tripping over an endless hill, falling over and over again and picking myself up but only this time I’ve fallen and I stayed sticking to the ground.

I’m doing this alone!

I can’t let myself think about it.

I won’t allow myself to think about 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢.

How the ones I held dear and close left me to my suffering all alone.

We’re they to blame?

Could I expect them to have the same tolerance for me?

Bonds had been torn until they were broken. Trust was misplaced until it was lost.

I was amusing until there was nothing to muse over anymore. I was entertaining until boredom was found in my flawed version of “entertainment.”

Now I am the shattered mess, cleaning up the pieces they broke, trying to fill in the empty pieces 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 took from me with them.

The weight of my own body feels like much to carry, like I’m drained and weak as I look down at the crimson sticking to my fingers, sighing at the thought of cleaning it up.]

It’s just not fair you know?

Why do I enjoy suffering so much?

[I refer to my humanity and how I kept it on, speaking to the dead man as if he still held any gain of consciousness left but he was long gone. Not to heaven nor hell, I didn’t believe in that but maybe his energy went somewhere unthinkable.

I turned my head to the right, watching him as if I were waiting for something so much as a response.]

They deem me as weak and I know it but neither of them could spend a single moment in here and survive!

[I pointed to my head, looking at him with a fierce cold gaze. He is laying slumped back, ignoring my rants like he has something better to do.]

Look at me when I’m talking to you!

[I found myself snapping at him as I reached down to tilt his head up, it fell forward pulling the rest of his body to the floor with a loud thud. I was sure I heard something break or crack, perhaps it was his neck or skull. I couldn’t tell.]

Who’s more dramatic between the two of us? Biggest riddle I’ll ever solve!

[I imply that he doesn’t want to listen because I feel unheard and hearing his killer out wasn’t exactly his obligation.

Everyone hears but is there anyone who truly listens?

Everyone has eyes to look but do they truly see?

I started to pace the floor, his silence had growing more aggravating than my own emotions. I kneeled down to near him, turning him over so he can look up at me. The lifelessness in his eyes were haunting but I couldn’t bring myself to feel remorseful.

Tears start to roll down my pale cheeks like rain, mascara sticking to my face and my eyes start to burn as my vision blurs.

I can hear the laughter in my mind, voices of the damned laughing joyously like they had won and I’ve never been more enraged!

Am I okay?

Am I /really/ doing better?

My last bit of sanity is shattering from the ground beneath me, tears no longer falling as they feel like their more crashing around me. I know I can make it all subside with one flick of a switch.

I was stronger than that wasn’t it?

Had my strength already faltered if I’m considering it?

Am okay? I pretend to be and I’m good at it.

I was okay being eternally their beautiful and deadly. . .

or maybe I was more of their beautiful and broken and there will never be any acceptance in that!

Where will I go from here? With all that I know what will I do? What is left?]

[drurrito]

'till i d-i-e

a/n: and here it issss, the final part of this universe -- I will keep my thoughts in the tags.

summary: You're not sure if you can hold on much longer.

warnings: torture, cursing, angst lol

----------------

You wake up, soaked, shaking and gasping for air.

“Wakey, wakey, Avenger,” the man grins, you’re usually awake and taking jabs at him as soon as he walks through the door. Exhaustion has kept you asleep for longer than you’d like to be. You’re wearing thin, you don’t know how much more you can take.

“What? No breakfast in bed?” your fatigued lips pull into something that looks like a smirk.

“Ah, you’re hungry! Here, let me start you off with some water-” he kicks your chair over and it begins. You’re just thankful he’s starting with something easy. 

Honestly, none of this feels real at this point.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re already dead. 

It’s fine, you never thought you’d make it to heaven, anyway.

You just feel guilty for not doing things differently--regret weighs heavy on your bones while you think of all the choices that led you here, alone and-

Afraid.

It’s not that you’re afraid to die, you’ve made your peace with that notion long ago. But there’s something unnerving, even for you, about dying alone.

Maybe the team thinks you are dead by now.

Maybe they’ll never come looking for you.

You never got to apologize to Wanda. You think she’s better off with Vision but it feels wrong knowing you just shoved her into his arms because she got too close. 

You never got to tell Natasha how you feel. Hell, you never got to tell any of the team how you feel and that’s your fault. Vulnerability never seemed like a safe option for you, avoiding it for as long as you can remember. 

But they were so good, so patient. They gave you the space you needed in hopes you would come around and warm up to them.

You never did, and that’s your fault.

Natasha was most persistent next to Steve and Sam. You hate how she always wanted to keep you included. You hate how she was always there to patch you up or put you to bed for the past few months. You hate that she kept showing up for you, because you don’t deserve it. 

But you hate yourself more for trying to push her away. You stupidly kept your cards close to your chest and now you’re going to die without ever being truly known.

“Where did you go? Do you not like spending time with me anymore?” the man teases with a wicked grin.

“You know I only have eyes for you,” you remark with a rasp.

“You sound thirsty,” he bites, throwing the towel over you again. The man raises the water can in his arm but stops when he hears panicked knocking at his door.

“Excuse me,” he grumbles, heading towards the door. The man on the other side of the door sounds exasperated, then the alarms start to go off. The door is shut and you can hear the man approaching you with hurried steps.

“It seems our time has been cut short, Avenger,” he sighs, “I will admit, I am a little disappointed I wasn’t able to get you to talk, but we had a lot of fun, didn’t we?” He pulls you out of the chair and hangs you back on the ceiling. You can hear the chaos going on outside the room while the man calmly walks over to his cabinet and pulls out the dagger again. He quickly heats it with the torch and marches over to you with a wild look in his eye that would jump your bones in the worst way if you weren’t so damn tired.

“A keepsake, for you to remember me by, in case your ankles were not enough,” his grin sends a chill down your spine this time. He’s much too lively slashing and burning your chest while you wince and groan in agony, body too exhausted to react much.

You watch him exit down the hall, leaving the door open. You hang there, chest heaving and pain pulsing all over until you see it--a flash of red hair.

Relief doesn’t even begin to explain what you’re feeling now, it’s enough to drain the pain your body is drowning in. Natasha’s eyes meet yours and you’ve never seen a more beautiful shade of green up until this moment. 

Steve rushes in to lift you off the hook and runs off, saying something about helping the others sweep the floor for more captives. Gentle, calloused hands cup your face as soon as you’re on the floor.

“Y/n, look at me,” Natasha begs, “stay with me okay? Stay with me.” 

You crane your head enough to do what she asks and she realizes you’re in pretty bad shape.

You wheeze out a laugh, “I told you not to wait up for me,” is all you can say before you start choking on a cocktail of your blood and spit. Natasha asks if you can stand and you give everything to show her you can even with your legs shaking violently in protest. She hooks an arm around your waist and you make two steps towards the door before you collapse.

“M’okay, Tash,” you mutter against the concrete floor before trying to stand again. Natasha lays a firm hand on your shoulder to keep you down, you don’t see the worried look on her face as you continue to struggle.

“I got this.”

“Stay down, please,” she pleads and that makes you give up. She crouches down next to you while she waits for help, taking inventory of every wound she can find.

“My legs,” you mumble, her eyes flit to your legs before her hands do. She watches you for a reaction as she carefully taps and touches her way down your legs before she finally sees what you mean.

“Oh, y/n,” the pain in her voice makes you wince.

Sam is already running in, scooping you up in his arms to take you back to the jet and for the first time in a long time, you cry.

-----------------

You don’t remember much after being rescued. You were so exhausted you slept for most of your stay in medical. But you were never alone, always hearing at least one of your teammates settling in to stay with you in shifts. Things were quiet for the first two nights until your brain had regained enough energy to conjure up nightmares that made you wake up the entire wing of the hospital.

The rest of your stay goes by in a blur until you’re discharged. Steve is there to take you back to the compound.

“Everyone is excited to have you back,” he says, flashing you a smile before keeping his eyes on the road.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” you joke, he snorts a little -- not at all surprised by your commitment to keep things light, despite how you got here.

It’s not long until you’re pulling into the compound now, Steve rounds the car to open the door and help you hobble towards the compound doors, home.

----------------

Natasha is bursting into your room, charging towards you. She’s an oncoming train and you’re a car that’s stalled out on the tracks. You sort of wish you were still in the hospital.

“FRIDAY, remind me to start locking my door,” you close the book you were reading and set it down on your nightstand, “what’s up?”

“What’s up?” Natasha’s chest puffs up so quickly you’re sure she’s going to explode any second. “You’re a fucking idiot,” it comes out like a low growl from the woman.

“Are you just here to hurl names at me?”

“Where the <;i>fuck</i> do you get off shutting everyone out and then running off to almost get yourself killed?”

“I don’t-”

“I’m not done,” she bites, “You’re on a team,” she starts to pace around your room. Your breathing is shallow and quiet, you want to disappear into the mattress beneath you.

 “We might not be your favorite people on the planet but--fuck, y/n!”

“I know you’ve read my file, Tash,” you spit back, “you know I wasn’t dragged in here kicking and screaming!” you get up too, only a few steps from being nose to nose with her now. 

Natasha recoils, taking a few steps back. She remembers the grisly details of your life before the Avengers. A death-dealing mercenary since you were thirteen, kept in a cage unless you were sent away on contracts. On paper, you had every right to be this miserable, wrathful person. But she was met with bright eyes, an infectious laugh and a chin held sky-scraper high when she first met you. It was jarring, to meet someone who managed to bloom under the most heinous of circumstances. She likes to think of you as a flower that never dared to stop growing.

“We’re supposed to be heroes, right?” you break her from her thoughts, guns still blazing, “that’s what I was doing, I was being a hero. I was saving Bucky, and Steve, fuck I was saving the whole team if you really look at the bigger picture, Tash!”

“You are such a prick!” she huffs, her hands clench into fists as she walks toward the other end of the room. She tries to gather herself before speaking again, feeling as fragile as can be.

“You were supposed to come back,” her voice is pained, but it will not break, “I should have…I should have gone with you-”

“Don’t,” you warn, “Bucky was right there! I wasn’t going to let Steve lose him again,” you bite your tongue and try to steady yourself. You didn’t plan on dealing with this…with her…so soon.

“I would have done the same for you, for anyone on this team,” you say it with bone-chilling certainty.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she says, shoulders deflating, “when Steve told me what happened,” she can feel her voice decay and brittle with each word, “it seemed like…like you wanted to just-” Natasha chokes out a sob.

“Give up?” Natasha doesn’t answer, instead turning her head away to gasp for air and wipe away her tears. You can’t help but scoff. Unbelievable. Did the entire team write you off as a coward or just her?

“You think I keep putting it all on the line in hopes that one day I’ll get taken out, like that?” You snap your fingers to punctate your words and Natasha flinches. 

“I don’t know how to not go full tilt on missions. I’m good at what I do for a reason. If I don’t get the job done by any means necessary then it means I’ve failed!” You bark out, feeling your chest crack and split open.“I’ve failed the mission, I’ve failed the team, and I’ve failed everyone depending on me. Why would the Avengers want to keep around some fuck-up. I wouldn’t!”

You sit back down and cross your arms, your leg bounces wildly to relieve some of the rude buzzing in your muscles. Natasha’s eyes are filled to the brim with tears that she’s holding hostage. The tension is packed thick, if anyone lit a match in the room right now the entire compound would be blown sky high.

“Durachok,” Natasha shakes her head with a gloomy laugh.

“What?” You whip your head towards her with a tense jaw. She sees your nostrils flare and laughs again.

“You don’t have to fight for a place on this team,” her voice is small and sweet now, it boggles your brain, “your life isn’t some kind of currency you need to throw around all the time to buy acceptance. You belong here, y/n.”

You let go of a trembling breath and bury your head in your hands while you try to get a hold of yourself. Every part of you is screaming that Natasha is lying, that she doesn’t mean any of it. You just want to scream and crumple to your knees but instead you straighten up and root yourself with a breath.

“I never knew what it felt like to belong,” your voice is frighteningly soft, “until now.” You’re looking dead ahead at Natasha and she can feel herself wavering. She’s waiting for a smirk, a joke, any of your usual quirks that would tell her you’re not serious. But you are.

“It scares me,” you heave a shuddering breath and Natasha has to wrestle every fiber of her being. She just wants to reach out and be there for you beyond just standing there like some dope.

“I don’t want to lose this feeling,” you close your eyes and squeeze your hands into fists, opening and closing them like that while focusing on your breath until you feel grounded again.

“I don’t want to lose any of you.”

“You won’t,” she takes a step closer to you, “I promise you won’t.”

“It’s funny,” your laugh is empty, humorless, “When I was down there, in the thick of it, I thought about how,” you sniffled, “if I died, the funeral would probably be shorter than the drive to the burial site.” your lips pull into a pained smile. ”I never gave any of you much to say about me, and that’s my fault.”

“Were you scared?” The words spill out of Natasha’s mouth before she registers it’s her own voice speaking. 

“Fucking terrified.” you choke. Natasha doesn’t waste another second, she takes a seat next to you and pulls you in for a bone-crushing embrace. You just collapse into her, sobbing. You’ve lost count how many times you cried since you’ve been back, you don’t have the energy to care about that sort of thing anymore.

“Thank you for opening up to me. I know it’s hard,” she whispers against your temple.

“I’ll try not to make a habit out of it,” you joke, laughing to the sound of Natasha heaving the world’s longest, loudest sigh. 

----------------

You’re emotionally spent when Wanda shows up at your door later that night.

“Hey,” she wraps her robe tighter around herself and fidgets with the material. Her eyes immediately fall to the fresh scars on your chest while you rub the sleep from your eyes. Her lips tick into a small frown and her arms twitch at her sides to reach out and graze the marks with her fingers. She never asked about the length of your injuries when you were still in the hospital. She was more focused on staying by your side. You were dazed and hardly talking, it was a version of you that she’ll never miss.

“Hey,” you realize she’s alone, no Vision in sight, “everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she tersely nods, “yeah, everything’s fine. How are you settling in?”

“So far so good,” you breathe, feeling weirdly nervous, “wanna come in?”

Wanda keeps fidgeting with her robe for a beat, she’s certainly no stranger to your room and doesn’t pretend to be as she brushes past you. You close the door with a soft click and stay there until you feel your nerves die down.

“I’m sorry,” you start, “I was a dick.”

Wanda blinks a few times, she wasn’t expecting you to apologize for anything right now. 

“I was so scared of you,” you murmur. Wanda thinks this is some kind of joke, you always make it a point to say you never get scared. Now you’re admitting otherwise?

“Are you okay?” She asks, not expecting a real answer.

“I am, honest,” you leave the door and step closer to her. “I’m just…I’m sorry,” you apologize again and Wanda feels like her head is going to spin. “You were genuinely trying to connect with me and I just…did everything I could to avoid being vulnerable, even if it meant pushing you away.”

“It's okay,” she tries to soothe but you’re animatedly shaking your head, “it’s not,” you insist. “You made me feel seen,” you say quietly, “and I ran away from it.” You feel a lump in your throat but you keep it there. You need to feel this. You’re not pushing things down anymore. 

Wanda can see the tears pooling in your eyes and it takes all of the air out of her lungs to see you like this. She’s only ever seen glimpses before. You were usually quick to shut down or deflect with humor. But now, you’re standing in front of her on the verge of tears, real tears.

Her chest aches, she takes a few careful steps towards you until she’s close enough to pull you into her arms. You let her, you missed this, you missed her.

“It’s okay,” she mumbles against your neck, “I forgive you.” She knows you need to hear it by the way your body sinks further into hers.

----

You stay up talking to Wanda for a while. She tries to catch you up but you didn’t miss much. Time at the compound screeched to a halt when you were gone. There weren’t any movie nights or team bonding activities. It was an all hands on deck operation to bring you back.

“They were gonna call Carol?” You ask, astonished that Fury would even green light such a thing.

“Natasha was hell bent on getting you back,” Wanda says with a small smile. She starts to play with the lapel of her robe, “she loves you, you know?”

You face contorts into a cocktail of confusion and disbelief. You want to try and say something about it but Wanda continues, “I think I knew deep down, when we were together, that you loved her back.”

“I don’t-” you sputter.

“It’s okay,” Wanda says for the umpteenth time that night, “I’m just wondering if you’ve said anything to her yet.”

Your shoulders slump and you sigh, “no, of course not.”

“You should get on that,” Wanda musters up half a smirk despite the soreness she feels in her chest. Vision makes her happy, he genuinely does. She knows she loves him the same way she loved you. She just can’t help but mourn what you two could have had if things were different. She has her answer though, there wasn’t much of a chance for her to begin with.

Wanda gets up from your bed with a yawn and you follow her to your door.

“This was nice,” she nods, her smile faltering.

“It was, I’m sorry it took me almost dying for us to talk like this,” you laugh and she lightly smacks your stomach.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she warns with a familiar tenderness that makes you feel warm all over again.

“I won’t, I promise,” you say it like you mean it. Wanda stands there for a moment before leaning up to press a kiss on your cheek. 

“I really missed you,” she murmurs before walking down the hall. You stand there for a little longer when it sinks in that she wasn’t just talking about you being taken. She missed you, the real you.

----------------

Natasha wakes up to a knock at her door. She opens it to find your face understandably puffy and worn from today’s events. Your arms squirm against your sides and for a moment Natasha thinks you just woke up from a nightmare.

“I talked to Wanda,” you mumble. You’re not looking Natasha in the eye and she can feel a familiar pang in her chest while she tries to push that mental picture out of her mind. 

“Yeah?” She tries not to sound so dejected.

You clear your throat and shift uncomfortably, “She helped me realize that I needed to take one more risk.” You take a cautious step towards Natasha and reach out to cup her cheeks before pulling her flush against you. She positively hums into the kiss and settles into your touch. Your lips take all the time in the world to drink her in. You feel a little dumb for taking so long to do this. That feeling is long gone by the time Natasha closes the door and slumps against your lips once more.

----------------

You recount the mission gone wrong at the next team bonding (and drinking) night. You admit to being scared, Natasha smacks Tony when he mutters something about being right. 

You take the time to thank everyone for being so patient and kind, despite how hard you tried to push them away. Sam hums a little louder than he expected to and that earns him a look from Steve. 

“I really feel like I belong here,” you say with unshakable confidence. You believe it, you honestly do.

“You do belong here, y/n,” Steve assures you, the rest of the team nods. You can’t help but smile, overwhelmed by the support and love from this team, your team.

“You always did,” Natasha reaches for your hand and squeezes it. You feel that warmth again as she pulls you towards the middle of the couch. Everyone else settles around you, Tony picks a movie from the queue before flopping down onto the couch next to Bruce. 

You watch the movie with a team you’ve grown to love so much, finally feeling seen, finally feeling like you belong.

[gotnofucks]

The Unreformed Rake

Pairing: soft!dark Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Ransom Drysdale is a notorious rake, but he seems to have taken a shine to you. When he plans to make you his, nothing would stand in his way. No is not a word he understands.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Slightly dubcon touching, fingering, semi-public touching, forced marriage hinted, 18 + Only

A/N: This is my submission to Siri’s 5k Softdark challenge. Congratulations love @stargazingfangirl18​ , you do us hoes so proud and keep our punanis so happy! I chose the prompt “Come on, just a little taste”. It’s highlighted in the text.

If your corset was a millimeter more tighter, you’d be dead. The mammas cared more about getting their daughters married off than about them making it alive through the ball. You were glad that as a second daughter you didn’t have too many eyes on you. All you had to do was let three to four men twirl you around the dancefloor to appease your mother, and then you could sit back and enjoy watching your older sister Anika try to catch a husband.

Mostly, the balls weren’t too bad. You got to meet with your friends and eat some delicious food without the constant supervision of your mother, sometimes you’d even find a decent dance partner who wouldn’t step on your toes or whose hands wouldn’t wander south of your back. You could have made it through the evening unscathed had one handsome rake not made an appearance.

The moment Lord Huge Ransom Drysdale stepped into the hall, all eyes were on him. And his were on you. He made a spectacular vision, donning the bright colours that most gentlemen stayed away from, and yet he looked more masculine than any of them. The eyes of every unwed lady followed his movements, their mothers urging them to approach him despite his reputation.

Everyone knew Huge Ransom Drysdale was a notorious rake; his stories were told at tea parties in hushed tones and often accompanied by giggles. He was proficient in the art of leaving a trail of broken hearts and stuttering men, but more than that, he was a master at getting under your skin. His eyes hadn’t left you for a moment, fixating on you and your current dance partner who was glued to your side like lichens to rock.

“You dance most marvelously Miss Y/N, would you do me the honour of the next one too?” He asked, looking smitten at you.

“Now now Allen, you wouldn’t hog Miss Y/N’s attention all for yourself, would you?” Lord Drysdale’s mocking voice carried over to you, the man walking languidly until he stood before you. “There are a number of other ladies in want of a partner, if you’d be kind enough to relent Miss Y/N’s hand to me.”

Allen bowed to him, recognizing the superior title and the man who held it. Placing a small kiss on the back of your hand, he beat a hasty retreat from you side like the coward you knew him to be. Lord Drysdale chuckled, raising a brow at you before offering you his arm. You had half a mind to turn your nose at him and storm away, but your mother would have conniptions if she learnt you said no to a Lord.

“You have a lot of nerve and no tact Your Lordship” You said in a whisper, allowing him to grip your hand and bring you closer. The music began and he spun you out gracefully before bringing you back into his body, much closer than was socially acceptable. His fingers were firm around yours, the hand on your waist tight, singeing the flesh underneath with his touch.

“You know I am a tactless bastard, that shouldn’t be news to you.” He said with a charming smile that could fool anybody but you. He put a façade better than any theater artist you knew. He led you around the other dancing bodies dexterously, not looking away from your face. After a moment, he abruptly asked, “Who were those three morons you danced with earlier? Didn’t I sent word that you must keep your dance card empty but for me?”

An appalled gasp escaped you and it was with restraint you kept yourself from bolting away from him. “Are you having me watched?”, You hissed in anger, wrinkling your forehead. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Of course I have people keeping an eye on you. Can’t let anything happen to my future wife.”

Because you couldn’t leave, you did the next best thing. You stepped on his toe with all your might, digging your hell into his feet until he groaned in pain. He retaliated by moving his hand from your waist to your backside, giving a firm squeeze to your ass that had you choking on a scandalized scream.

“Hugh!” You chided through gritted teeth, looking around quickly to see if someone had noticed. Amidst the sea of dancers, nobody focused on you alone, but it would be enough to ruin a lady’s reputation.

“You know that’s not what you call me.”

His blue eyes turned darker, more challenging and predatory as he leaned closer until his chest brushed against you. You struggled, trying to put distance between you as discreetly as possible but he wouldn’t give.

“Let go!” You said, digging your nails into his shoulder to no avail. The thick padding of his clothes prevented any harm.

“Say my name.”

It was an order, one that if not met would hold consequences. People thought they knew the philandering Lord Drysdale, but they had little inkling to the danger that resided just beneath the surface. You knew. Your gaze dropped away from his, head a little bowed in defeat.

“Ransom.” You whispered, and he let out a shuddering breath as if his name on your lips had taken away more from himself than from you. He wouldn’t let you address him as anything else, not you who he claimed would be wearing his ring soon.

The dance slowed to a stop, people clapping, and you pushed away from him, halfheartedly joining in the applause. Ransom stood too close, his hand on your waist still fast and you slapped it away in irritation.

“Look, just stay away from me. I don’t want mamma to see us together.” You said, weaving through the throngs of people and trying to escape him. He followed, keeping at your heels with no problem, playfully pulling at your sleeve.

“Stay away?” He scoffed, almost as if in wonder of your audacity to even demand that. “You’re gonna be Lady Drysdale soon, you need to get used to my presence. I will always be close. Very close.”

You turned on him, raising a finger and wagging it in his face. Heat was settling over your face and neck, seeping beneath your neckline and into your chest that was heaving. Ransom’s eyes trained on the rise and fall of your breast, a wolfish grin on his face as he licked his lips in appreciation and anticipation.  

“I am not going to marry you Ransom!” You yelled in a whisper, amazed at his arrogance. “You keep away from me.”

In a second his fingers encircled your wrist, pulling you away from the floor into the shadowy corners as you protested. Sweeping aside the curtains, he pushed you into an alcove, pressing you in deeper with his body as the curtains fell again to shield you from curious eyes.

“We’ll have to do something about that mouth of yours.” He hissed cruelly, caging you between his massive arms. “You can’t go around speaking to me like this.”

His face neared yours, eyes dark and dangerous as they glared into you, his mouth opening slowly. You knew what was going to happen and you turned your face at the last second, his lips finding your cheek instead. Warm breath fanned your already heated skin, a flutter of butterflies setting your nerves astray.

“Stop! This isn’t proper.” You said, squirming as Ransom refused to back away. He chuckled in derision, forcefully turning your face to his. You hated how he still looked so beautiful, despite the sneer and arrogance.

“Wouldn’t be the first time we did it. Or did you forget about those stolen moments after the lakeside picnics? What about those walks in the park where I’d press you into a bark of tree and ravish this sinful mouth? We’re long past proper my darling, and the only reason your virtue is intact is because I am affording you the dignity to keep it until our wedding night.”

Your gaze lowered in mortification, those shameful moments coming back to you as flashes behind your eyelids. He had been far too powerful, too intense to refuse. In your weakness, you’d allowed him liberties that made guilt settle like weight on your chest every time your mother bragged about your modesty to other mammas.

“That was my mistake, Ransom. I’m supposed to marry a man of impeccable standing, someone who holds everyone’s good opinion. After Anika gets herself a man, it’ll be me, and my mother would never marry me off to a rake like you.”

His chest expanded in indignation under your hands, and he held you steady as he ground himself against you. Anger, jealousy, and sheer disbelief at your words was evident in his glare, and you shivered in fear as his lips skimmed over your jaw.

“You will marry me, mamma or no mamma. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to make you mine.” He promised, eyes glinting in warning. “What’s that saying? A reformed rake makes the best husband, ain’t it?”

“You’re not reformed.” You countered, captive in his hold. A part of you that you refused to acknowledge didn’t want to leave at all.

“That’s true.” Ransom said, smirking. “I am a rake, its time I play to my reputation.”

He kissed you hard, his tongue pushing past your lips without preamble. You couldn’t help moaning into his mouth, your fingers clutching his collar for dear life, knees threatening to collapse as he kissed you like a man starved. You knew he had a talented tongue by his charming words, but there was more to it than merely speaking. He discovered you, explored you like an untouched cave and brought you back to life.

Nobody could make you feel like he did. You had no patience for conceited, blustering men, but Ransom was more than that. He was a force that overpowered your life like winds did to fallen leaves. He carried you with himself, unrelenting, persistent. He was passionate and hungry, he was obsessed. After the first time he had kissed you in the park, he promised he wouldn’t kiss anyone again. He promised he’d make you his, and that if any man tried to claim what belonged to him, it would end in a duel.

In his kiss, you felt his possessiveness. You felt his raw power and lust that had led you to sin on more than one occasion. Saying no to him was difficult, mainly because you were most yourself when with him. He gave you wings unknowingly. He gave you the freedom to rebel unknowingly. To him, it was your claiming. But hadn’t you claimed him too in one kiss? Hadn’t you transformed the rake into a marriageable sort in one kiss?

“Ransom, we can’t.” You breathed against his lips, both your mouths swollen and glistening.

“Yes we can. We will.”

His hand ventured south of your neck, dipping into your neckline and brushing against the plump swell of your breast. You sputtered, not knowing if you were urging him or objecting. He pressed you hard into the wall, trailing his lips from your neck to your chest, sucking and nibbling with utmost patience and care. You whimpered at his assault, soft mewls spilling from your mouth and you rested your head back, unable to control the heat that simmered in your core.

“There is no power in the world that can stop me from making you my wife.” He said, looking right into your eyes as he sharply pulled and tore a rip into your bodice. You screeched, thumping your fists against his chest before he gathered them in one arm and held them above your head. “This is just a preview of what will happen between us when you take my ring and name.”

Pushing away the limp fabric from your breast, his mouth enveloped your nipple in one fell swoop. You cried out in pleasure, his warmth spreading into your own body and you feared you’d burn. A fire was simmering between your legs, wet and wanting, chanting his name. His teeth gently grazed your nipple, causing you to whimper, a sound he captured in his mouth.

“Look at me.” He ordered, and you opened your eyes without having realized they were closed. The blue in his had never been darker, almost black like the night sky that swallowed down everything in its path.

“Please don’t.” You begged. “I have sisters whose reputation are tied with mine. You’ll ruin us all.”

Ransom smiled, and you gulped because he looked almost tender. As his fingers trailed down your front to gather the layers of skirt above your knees, he bumped his nose in yours. “Never. I am a Thrombey-Drysdale. I’ll take you, and I’ll save your family. Everything I own is yours.”

The look in his eyes was such that you didn’t protest as he traced your thighs, approaching the apex. He didn’t look away as he reached your moist core, nor when he found your sensitive nub and ran circles around it with his fingers. You moaned, biting your lip to stifle your voice as his breathing picked up. Your scent filled the small niche you were in, his chest digging into yours, hand buried between your legs.

A strangled cry did escape when you felt him at your weeping entrance, threatening to breach the untouched walls of your virtue. You shook your head, asking him not to cross the boundary that will change everything between you.

“Come on, just a little taste.” He urged, pressing inside with one finger. He delved in slowly, his intrusion felt against the spongy walls of your sex and you trembled. You were panting you realized, hips gyrating almost subconsciously to mirror his movements.

“Ransom” You moaned, pushing forward. You had to do something, anything. You felt about ready to combust.

“I know. I know. Look at me and remember the pleasure I can give you. Remember the love I will shower on you.”

Another finger joined the first, stretching you until it burnt. You held onto his arms, breath coming in sharp intervals as he moved in and out, the obscene sounds of your essence mixing in with your laboured breathing.

“Do you feel the fire my darling?” Ransom asked, and you nodded. He rested his forehead on yours, forcing you to meet his eyes as he sped up, the heel of his hand digging into your nub. “Look into my eyes and let go. Come, now.”

Your back arched and your pressed forward into his body, quacking in pleasure as sensations that had no name wrecked your whole body. Your teeth sank into his neck to hold in your scream, whole body vibrating and undulating in ecstasy. You remained like this until you caught your breath, sweat gathering above your lips and brow. He looked ravenously at you. He looked in awe too.

Raising his hand, he showed you his fingers soaked in your wetness and slowly he brought them to his mouth and sucked. You gulped, suddenly feeling empty as Ransom closed his eyes in the relish of your taste. When he finally looked at you again, you knew you were lost. The wolf had had his taste of blood. There was no escaping.

He kissed you slow and soft, sharing your taste with you and pulling you closer into him. It didn’t seem like he would part. For all you knew, the world had burnt away leaving only this niche in the wall intact, two people who were just learning to explore each other the only ones alive.

“Do you know, or should I say?” He asked, and you sucked in a breath. Who would have thought this day would come?

“Say it.” You answered. You knew, oh yes. But you needed to hear. You needed to watch those beautiful lips curve around words that bound you to him in something far more potent than marriage.

“I love you.” He said, sincerely, truly and with no hesitation. He loved you. Lord Hugh Ransom Drysdale loved you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears and you stood on your toes to brush a kiss against his lips.

“I love you, Your Lordship.”

His arms came around you so strong that they felt like chains. You stayed in his embrace, disheveled and disoriented. You never expected your evening would have ended like this.

“Remember my love, then. And forgive me.” Ransom said. Before you could ask him what he meant, he threw apart the curtains that contained your sin and bared you to the world. The first person gasped aloud, and then ten more. You stood paralyzed, holding a hand against your chest to conceal the peeking flesh behind.

Ransom stood before you, nonchalant. Whispers flew around, taking the form of a vicious wind that swept across the ballroom until your mother was running towards you, scandalized. She took one look at you and staggered back, falling behind on the people who rushed forward to help.

“You – no. It couldn’t be.” She sobbed, holding a hand to her heart as if asking it to stay inside. You couldn’t say anything, shame written on every part of you. Ransom cleared his throat before looking at you softly, uncaring of others who gossiped when his lips pressed on your forehead.

“I plan to do right by Miss Y/N.” He announced, removing his coat and draping it around you. Pulling you out from the alcove, he put an arm around you and tugged you at his side. He glanced at you mother who was on the verge of fainting, a small tilt to his lips. “Madam, with your blessings, I would like to wed your daughter and make her an honest woman.”

You hid your face into his chest, not bothering to see your mother’s response. He had compromised you. He had ruined you. Ransom Drysdale didn’t take a no, and he fought hard for what he wanted.

“I hate you.” You whispered, heartbroken. Had he waited, you’d have said yes yourself. Ransom read the question in your gaze and stroked the curve of your cheek.

“I have done my waiting. No more of it. You’re mine now.”

[ultralovedeluxe]

Yandere! Jonathan Joestar with prompts #26, #33, and #88

Here’s a Jonathan appreciation post. I don’t see much for him (either that or I’m really bad at finding them). Please enjoy!

‘What did I do wrong?’

‘Kissing you like this is all I’ve ever wanted’

‘I did it out of love!’

Warnings: minors dni, yandere behaviors, implied stalking, menstruation mentions, kidnapping, non/con kissing, DELUSIONAL jonathan (like really lmao), sfw for the most part.

Poor [first]. Poor little [first] just had to keep denying the sweet ol' Jonathan Joestar. He was nothing but kind and loving to a maiden who was in need of his help! And what does the fair maiden do? Ignore him! As if all his chilvarous attempts meant nothing to the maiden. Constantly berating him on how he needs to 'let go' and 'let her live her life!' Why, he's just trying to protect her! Why can't she just see that?

However, Jonathan Joestar is not just a ant you can kill and move on with your day. He is a man in love, and is determined to win your love and affection.

No matter what it takes.

"Mistress [last], the Joestar heir is here to see you again!"

You groaned as you heard your butler yell from downstairs. That bloody Joestar just couldn't catch a hint now could he? You stumbled your way downstairs, rubbing your temples aggressively. "Tell the bastard I'm not home-"

"I tried mistress, but the young man persisted to at least leave you behind a note and his bouquet of roses he bought for you" your butler told you before walking over to you. You groaned in annoyance once again and sighed deeply. "Just take a break Charles, I'll handle this" you said patting his back before angrily walking towards the entrance of your home. You barely heard your butler's 'thank you', guess you're too angry to think straight.

But in your defense, you're tired! You want this courting non sense to stop immediately! Time and time again you've told Jonathan to get lost and leave you alone. But he always does the exact opposite! Always running towards you when he sees you in the street (which is quite frequently). You don't know how he always manages to find you. It's almost as if he knows you'll be there. Not only is that creepy in it's own right, but you're just tired of him. Tired of seeing his stupid face everywhere you go!

Ofcourse your parents always tell you to consider giving Jonathan a chance. Saying that he's such a sweet boy, he comes from such a wealthy family, he loves you oh so much, and he's so handsome; clearly he's what's best for you!

The hell he is! You want nothing to do with Jonathan Joestar and if maybe being a little meaner to him will help him get the message through his tremendously thick skull, you’re willing to take your chances.

You open the door and come face to face with the blue-haired man. Your eyebrows furrow in disgust as Jonathan hugs you in a tight embrace, hardly allowing you to breathe as he pressed you into his newly bought bouquet in your face, along with being smothered by his strong cologne and chest. "Oh [first] my beloved! I'm so glad you opened your door, you know your butler told me you weren't home and I knew that couldn't be true since you had no plans today-"

You cut off the larger man by pushing him away almost instantly, "Jonathan Joestar I am not your beloved!" you yell at him, using a hint of venom in your words. The male looked at you strangely for a bit, before giving you a warm smile, that warm, sickly sweet disgusting smile. "Now [first], there's no need to be joking around, surely you must feel something for me as well.." the blue-haired man said leaning in for a kiss.

You push him away almost instantly. Who the hell did this man think he is? Going in for a kiss as if they're already together. And he calls himself a gentleman? Please. You've never felt so grossed out. "I said no!" you yelled hoping that he'd just leave you alone.

Jonathan looked at you with confusion and a slight bit of hurt in his eyes. "What did I do wrong my beloved? I just wanted-"

"No Jonathan! I don't care about what you want! It's always about what you want, never about me! All I want is for you to leave me be! Go away, or I'll swear on my family's name Joestar. If you ever bother me again I'll kill you!" you yelled at him, finally closing the door on him. You had expected him to beg you to open up your door again, but you didn't hear anything. God, that felt so satisfying. If you had known that'd be enough to shut him up, you would've done it ages ago. You give out an exasperated sigh, you haven't felt such relief in ages. It felt so good to finally have the Joestar heir off your back.

Jonathan had never been so hurt. Who knew such beautiful and sweet lips would say such nasty and vile things?! Especially to him? He's supposed to be your one and only. He was supposed to be your prince charming, your knight in shining armor one might add. And you push and reject him away like he's some stray on the street. Did all that time and devotion mean nothing to you?

Jonathan shook his head. Of course it did. It just had to. Maybe you were just on your menstrual cycle. Right, that was so obvious, how couldn't he have known? God, now he feels horrible. No wonder you lashed out at him. No matter, he'll just make it up to you by the time the next ball comes around.

-

It was odd.

Not a single letter from Jonathan. Not even one. Could it be that he finally learned his lesson? Most likely, And to be completely honest, you were happy! You finally felt free for the first time in ages. It was weird how you and Jonathan didn't have a relationship, yet in a weird way it felt like you did. You shrugged it off, like it mattered now. Jonathan Joestar had finally left you alone and for that reason you feel like you should celebrate! A famous lord from town had invited you to his monthly ball (it seems like he was a big fan of parties), and this month's theme was masquerade. Not only was the thought of going out exciting, but you could also use this to find a suitor.

While you didn't exactly care for finding a suitor, your parents did, and you didn't want to dissappoint. After all, you want to give love a try, perhaps you’ll meet an adventurer at the ball. Thinking about traveling the world made your heart skip a beat.

You look in your closet and pull out some of your best gowns. This was the first time you had ever put in effort into looking nice for a party. That Joestar must have been holding you back all this time, now you feel as if you can truly have fun. You were excited for once you couldn’t wait for the ball.

-

The night of the ball arrived, and you were. thrilled! You couldn’t wait to socialize with other people, nobles from all over the world were going to be attending. The thought of gaining connections and making potential friendships excited you.

You smiled at your reflection, you certainly outdid yourself with the wardrobe. The fabric of your gown would probably be one of the best there. Along with your matching corset that hugged your waist tightly. Additionally, your mask you had made specifically for this party came out extremely gorgeous. The gown you were wearing would surely stick out, but you’d supposed that’s a good thing. This is borderline your first ball debut in months, so you did feel somewhat pressured. Whatever, you’re going to have fun and that’s all that matters.

You have your butler escort you to your carriage, and you were on your way to the ball.

.

.

.

You felt like the belle of the ball. You’ve never had so much fun until this point. If you had to take a shot for every dance you had participated in you’d be a falling drunk. Every dance you’d have a partner, and that’s something to brag about in the future.

Despite all the fun you were having, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off somehow. Something just didn’t feel..right. Throughout each dance, you’d always feel a pair of eyes watching your every move. You weren’t sure if it was multiple people from the crowd or just a singular person. Either way, you were creeped out.

“Excuse me madam, but would you mind sharing this dance with me?”

A familiar British accent was heard behind you. A muscular man with a black mask and red trim had asked to dance with you. And although he sounded polite, you felt like you couldn’t trust him. There was something weird about him, you just couldn’t put your finger on it. He was too..familiar. You couldn’t even say anything. He touched your hand, “Madam are you alright? Do you need to step out?” He asked in that familiar tone again.

Bloody hell! Why couldn’t you say anything? Did your brain suddenly stop working? By the time you could even respond the man had dragged you outside the mansion itself. The man’s grip on your hand doesn’t grow any weaker.

“There ya go some nice, fresh air, I do hope you’re alright madam. It’d be a shame if we wouldn’t dance tonight”

Was this man a drunk? Did he forget his manners? What kind of man drags a woman outside without her consent!?

“Excuse me sir, but I don’t ever recall agreeing to walking outside with you! Did you ever learn about manners? Your parents certainly haven’t taught you well” you angrily said, finally coming back to your senses after zoning out. The man looked at you for a moment, and then gave out a small laugh. “Why ofcourse how could I ever forget my own manners, I apologize for my actions, a true gentleman would never do that to a lady. However my beloved, I have been waiting for too long, so please I’d like to apologize for my actions” he said calmly.

That tone..this man couldn’t possibly be ? No no no, Jonathan Joestar wouldn’t attend a party like this would he? But there’s only one man who refers to you as his beloved. So there was no denying the blue haired man in front of you was your tormentor.

Jonathan softly caresses your face, and lifts up your mask to reveal your frightened face. He gives you a rough kiss on the lips, which is something you’d never expect from someone who calls himself a gentleman. You try to push him off, but that proves useless since he’s much more stronger than you’ll ever be. Jonathan finally stops suffocating you with his lips and proceeds to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Dear that was simply wonderful, kissing you like this is all I’ve ever wanted. I’m so glad my dreams have come true” the sick man you hate said passionately kissing every single part of your face. You wanted to punch him, but you would know the violent and almost terrifying consequences that would happen.

“Jonathan please stop this! Let me go, why are you doing this!” You pleaded with him, crying tears that could probably fill rivers. You didn’t want to be with Jonathan. You hated him.

Jonathan placed his hand on your mouth and carried you like it was nothing. “Shh [first], I did this out of love, and you’ll understand soon. You’ll love me too, I just know it” . Jonathan made sure you didn’t remember a thing.

From there you don’t even remember much.

-

Last thing you knew was dancing with a mysterious man at a party. Now, you were [first] Joestar, Jonathan Joestar’s prized wife. You can’t remember a thing for some reason. All you know is that you love your husband with all your heart.

Your past self would’ve never thought that she’d be in the Joestar mansion, sitting in a locked bedroom, picking baby names for her captor’s child.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Precious Inexperience II

A/N: Welp. You guys voted and here I am...trying to deliver my second attempt at a dark fic. Please let me know what you think. I never expected this little fic to take off like it did. I love you all. If you want a refresher--here’s the first part!

Pairing: King!Robb Stark x F!Reader

Rating: M for DARK THEMES including dub-con, death, death of children, Robb being a dick, a bit of smut, and canon-typical sexism

Warnings: Again, dub-con/dubious consent, talk of pregnancy and childbirth, men being terrible-PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: The King in the North was now King of the Seven Kingdoms. Peace reigned. Kings need heirs. But queens need love.

King’s Landing had over a half a million people calling it home and she had never felt more alone. Her ladies in waiting were kind but aloof, more preoccupied with making sure the child she was carrying was healthy than if she was happy. Court was filled with lords and ladies and foreign dignitaries who were all but throwing themselves at Robb’s feet in hopes to gain his favor—she was barely more than another tapestry on the cold stone walls of the Red Keep. 

A pretty thing to be looked at and then ignored.

Whenever someone had deemed it a worthy venture to speak to her, Robb quickly put an end to it.

“You are here to speak to me, my lord, are you not? Do not let your eyes linger on my queen.”

But she was lonely. The only time she felt the smallest bit seen was when Robb came into her chambers. His hands still left her tender and hurting, even after the maesters confirmed she was with child a month after their wedding night. But he was all…he was all she had.

Writing to her mother, asking if she could come to the city to spend a season at her side, was quickly rebuffed as well. My darling girl, you are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I will not distract you from your duties. Your husband and child will come first, always.

That did nothing to bring her comfort.

And she learned quickly that Robb did not like her tears.

“Have I not given you enough? A crown? Jewels? Dresses from Essos? What more do you want?” His face was bright red with anger so she quickly wiped at her cheeks and nodded, murmuring an apology. He let out a strained sigh and she watched him walk toward her through watery eyes. His warm hands grasped her face and rough thumbs brushed away her tears. “You are my queen. You are bringing my heir into the world. You have made me happy, Y/N.” His hand settled over her stomach, now showing the advanced stage of her pregnancy. “That should be all that matters. You are emotional because you are with child. This will pass.”

It will pass.

It will pass.

It will pass.

It didn’t.

She winced as she felt her child move and kick as she laid atop her featherbed, listening to the city start to wake before the sun. Thankfully, the morning sickness had subsided only a few months into her pregnancy but the need to rise early had not left her.

Her door opened and she felt herself smiling as Robb entered. She knew he would stay, at least for a few moments. She would have someone who wanted her all to herself, even if just for a little bit.

Without a word, she held out her hands to him and welcomed him into her bed. 

His hands were still rough as they tore at her thin nightdress. They were rough as they spread her legs. They were rough as grasped at her shoulders as he rutted against her.

“This is the first of many. You’re so beautiful like this.”

“I want…” The words were strangled in her throat when she felt that all-too familiar coil start to tighten and fray. He always made it feel good. “I want to be beautiful for you. Always.”

                                                **

A visiting Pentoshi magistrate was the reason almost all of the court had gathered in the Great Hall. He had a band of exuberant contortionists and firebreathers to entertain the lords and ladies of Westerosi court while he spoke with Robb. His entourage were quick favorites of the upper echelons of society in King’s Landing and it was all so… strange. All this pomp and circumstance around a man who was essentially begging for help against the Dragon Queen who seemed hellbent on rebuilding the Valyrian Empire, including Pentos. 

Robb would not help. She knew this. The Court knew this. But they wanted a bit of entertainment. This Pentoshi politician was not the first to come to beg for the Wolf King’s help and would not be the last.

But it did give her a little more to distract herself with, as the days dragged on.

She watched a young man contort himself into a strange shape while another contortionist balanced her entire weight on his foot. Robb was seated atop a raised dais with a grey stretch of fabric to keep the sun off his skin. 

Beside him sat the Magister who had come and a handful of his advisors—Naavio was his name.

He had silver hair with piercing green eyes, a little thin compared to the King, but handsome in a strange way. He spoke the Common Tongue with the lilting accent of the Pentoshi people which made Y/N smile for some reason. Perhaps it was just the abnormality of his and his entourage’s presence that made it exciting but she felt a little like she had friends whenever one of them would stop and speak to her.

“How are you feeling this morn?”

“Have you decided on names for the young prince or princess?”

“You look as if you are glowing, your grace.” It was all so lovely. And it seemed so genuine, so unlike the empty-eyed smiles she would receive from her ladies-in-waiting and the rest of court. But her favorite was Naavio.

The magistrate made it a point to seek her out whenever he could.

“These two are my favorites,” he whispered to her.

Y/N nearly leapt from her skin, having not noticed him sneak up behind her. “Oh, Seven Heavens, Lord Naavio, you must not frighten me so!”

He chuckled. “I am sorry, Your Grace. You know I would never try to scare you. You are in a delicate state.”

Y/N pressed a hand to her stomach with a smile. “Yes, the maester said only a few more weeks until I can welcome them into the world.”

Naavio’s hand was suddenly pressing against her stomach too and she laughed when she felt her little one’s foot kick right where he had placed his palm. “They enjoy my presence just as much as their mother does, it seems.”

A sudden shadow loomed over them and Y/N pivoted to see Robb standing behind them. His silver and iron crown glinted in the sunlight, a sharp contrast to the near feral light in his blue eyes as he looked at her.

“Take your hand off my wife.”

Naavio’s hand quickly pulled back but he chuckled—again. “Your heir has a strong kick, Your Grace.”

“Yes. My heir.” Robb reached out and snatched Y/N’s wrist. His grip hurt but she knew better than to let out the hiss of pain she felt bubbling at the back of her throat. He tugged, just once, and Y/N knew to walk to his side.

There would be no spectacle.

“You must know how precious a child is,” Robb’s voice was steady but she knew better. The grip he had on her wrist dropped and he pressed his hand against the small of her back. “For a man who seems so desperate to save his kingdom, you are playing a dangerous game.”

Naavio blanched but he still smiled at the wolf-king. “I was only congratulating your wife on the health of her babe. It was a compliment-”

“My wife, the queen of my kingdom, knows how beautiful and lucky she is to be carrying my heir. She does not need your input.” Robb turned to her, eyes piercing. “Am I correct, wife?”

Y/N could only nod.

                                                     **

Y/N knew that Robb would never hurt her. His grip while in the throes of passion left her sore, but he never raised a hand to her. Seven Hells, he barely raised his voice. But Y/N knew of the violence that simmered just below the surface of his skin.

He was a wolf.

He was King.

He was the husband the gods had given her.

And she was scared of him. Something innate and quiet in the back of her mind told her she could not truly trust him. She was not safe.

But he had always kissed her when he was finished with her womanly duties. 

And he still found pleasure in her even after he knew she was with child. His eye never wandered to the other many, beautiful highborn ladies who were readily available and arguably eager to be a young king’s mistress. But no.

He had his queen.

And he was his father’s son—that was what Robb had said, anyway.

“You are my queen. I will not dishonor you. And I know you will not dishonor me.” The words were cold as he slammed the door shut to his solar.

Y/N nearly lost her footing as she stumbled in but caught herself on the table, accidentally sending a stack of missives across the floor. “I thought it was a queen’s duty to make allies with her social graces and-”

“A queen’s duty is to provide for her husband.” Robb’s lips were pulled tight against his teeth. But he took a deep breath and then reached for her, hands grasping at her face. “I love you. You hear me? I love you.”

And she wanted to believe it. She had wanted to believe he could love her. “I love you too.”

He leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead and then righted the spiked crown on the top of her head. “I will not have you near him again.”

Y/N nodded, resigning herself to the loss of another possible friend. Her one solace would be Robb, it seemed. As it had been since she came to King’s Landing. As it always would be.

                                                    **

But Naavio was persistent.

And she was lonely.

When the first letter was smuggled to her, she had not answered. But when the fourth came again and asked her to meet him in the gardens at midnight, her need for some sort of friendship won out and she slipped away from her maids and met the magistrate in a familiar stretch of the garden maze as the moon looked on from above in a starless sky.

“You’ve come!” Naavio said, reaching out to grasp her hands. “I was beginning to think I have offended you in some way, Your Grace.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile, ignoring the sudden sharp pain she felt in her stomach. “I am hard to offend, my lord. But it is good to have an ally in a city such as this.”

Naavio chuckled. “Yes, it seems King’s Landing is as fearsome as its king.” He was quiet for a moment, simply looking at her as his thumbs idly swept across the soft skin at the back of her hands. “Pentos is much more amiable.” His grip tightened. “I shall like to take you there, show you my home.”

Y/N’s smile widened just a fraction. “I would like that. I have heard such wondrous things about your home.”

“I could take you there. Spirit you away from this wretched city.”

She gasped and tried to tug her hands from his but his grip did not relent. “My lord, I-”

“You are not happy here. I can see it in your eyes. Do you want to raise your child here? Do you want to spend the rest of your days hoping your king does not lose his supposed love for you? You should be surrounded by people who worship you, adore you—and the babe you will bring into this world.”

Y/N stood and ripped her hands from his with a grimace as the pain she felt started to bloom and grow. “You misunderstand my intentions. I have only wanted friendship.”

Naavio stood with a sneer. “Then you are a fool. Only a child would misconstrue my attentions for mere friendship.”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, to argue, to do anything—when she doubled over, clutching her stomach with a whimper as something trickled down her legs. “I…” Her legs shook and she threw out a hand to tangle in the branches of the greenery at her side, the only thing keeping her upright. “The baby. They’re coming.”

“What have you done?”

Another contraction had her almost falling to her knees but she looked over her shoulder to see Robb and a handful of his kingsguard at his back.

Naavio stood straight. “Your Grace-”

“Seize him.”

And the kingsguard did, almost gleefully taking the foreign magistrate to his knees and, by the sound of it, dislocating his shoulder as well. Naavio shrieked but Y/N could scarcely hear it over the roaring of the blood in her ears.

Familiar hands grasped at her face, tilting her chin up so she could look into the dark, hard eyes of her husband.

“The…baby…the baby is coming…”

“I know.” Robb pulled her close and she could feel the next words rumble in his chest. “Magistrate Naavio, you have tried to take my heir and seduce my wife.”

“I have done no such thing!”

Y/N crumpled in her husband’s hold with a choked scream.

“Take him to the Black Cells. I will deal with him later.”

                                               **

It took two days to bring little Prince Eddard into the world. But he was beautiful—the most beautiful little one she had ever beheld. Her body was tired, her mind was buzzing, but all she could see was the little bundle in her arms.

Robb did not care about the blood and water and sweat coating the featherbed as he sat beside her and pressed a hard kiss to her temple. His finger traced down his son’s nose. “You have made me happy, Y/N.”

She smiled, eyes finally drooping.

“But it is time the magistrate is dealt with.” He stood and waved his hand, having one of her fine dresses laid out across the bed. In a blur, she was cleaned and dressed and a cup of Milk of the Poppy was all but shoved down her throat by an impassive Maester.

The Great Hall was filled with lords and ladies and knights from across the Realm. All of them had been waiting the birth of the heir of the wolf king but were now going to be witnesses to the king’s judgment, too.

“Naavio. You have come here to beg for reprieve against the Dragon Queen, to ask for help against her campaign.”

Naavio said nothing as he glared up at Robb on the throne, thick chains around his wrists and ankles. His Pentoshi ginery was dirty and ripped. The two days he had spent in the Black Cells had not been kind.

“Instead, you have tried to usurp my own power.”

“I did no-”

“I have sent a raven to Daenerys Targaryen, giving her the information you have given me. Your city will fall. It will burn with dragonfire.”

“Your Grace!” The words broke in Naavio’s throat.

The sudden noise made Eddard fuss in her arms and she gently rocked him, mind still hazy from the Poppy. But the cold green glint of Naavio’s eyes cut through the mess. He was a caged animal.

“This was you! You played your part so well. The innocent queen in need of rescue-”

“Silence!” Robb said, standing from the jagged throne. In the strange quiet of the Great Hall, he descended from his perch and took the reformed Ice from its sheath. “For your crimes against your host, against the good queen Y/N, I sentence you to die.”

Before Naavio could even plead for his life, Robb lifted the greatsword and took the magistrate’s head.

                                              **

Robb was rutting against her, hard hands grasping at her breasts, pulling at the flesh of her hips, wrapping around her throat.

It hurt.

It hurt.

It hurt.

But she loved how he wrapped himself around her, loved how he would press his lips to her sweat-slick skin, loved him. Even if the maester had said it was too soon for the king to visit her chambers for such an act.

“You’ll give me another. You’ll give me ten more.”

“I will!” She cried.

“You’ll give me all of you because you are mine.” His hand tightened around her neck as his hips moved faster and faster. “Only mine.”

“Yours,” Y/N said as her throat burned.

His hips stuttered and a familiar warmth bloomed but he did not stop, could not stop until she was sobbing against his mouth with her own release. It hurt even more.

Sweat cooled on their skin as the high slowly died. Robb turned and pressed a biting kiss to her throat, still tender from his grip. His beard scratched her slick skin. “Mine. And you will always be mine.”

As she caught her breath, Robb rose from the mussed blankets of her featherbed and pulled his trousers on just as the door opened and a nursemaid brought in Eddard, snoozing in her arms. She readily handed the babe over to the king and then left, not even acknowledging the queen’s presence aside from a small curtsey.

Robb smiled down at his son and he looked genuinely happy—the smile he had reserved only for her.

She had made him happy. That was all she wanted.

“I will not have another man thinking to steal you away, wife.”

“O-of course not. You know I would never-”

“I must keep you to myself. And I will.” He looked at Y/N for a moment before leaning down to kiss his son’s forehead. The babe reached up and cooed, pressing his little hand against his father’s cheek. “You are mine. Only mine.”

He walked to the side of the bed and let her hold him as he dressed again and she lathed happy little kisses over her son’s face, listening to him giggle—but then Robb took him away. “What are you doing?”

“I am keeping you.” Robb kissed her cheek and then stood straight and walked to the door. When it opened, she saw three kingsguard standing outside, bedecked in their battle armor and swords at their hips.

“Robb?” His name was soft, strangled in her throat. “Your Grace?”

“She does not leave this room unless I am at her side.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Robb nodded and then smiled down at his son as the door swung closed. A heavy lock twisted.

Y/N stared at the door. She was not sure if she expected it to open again, or to at least hear another word from Robb on the other side, telling her what she must to do. But there was nothing.

She was alone.

A/N: All right! There we go! Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, anger, humiliation, control.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: This is likely the second to last chapter in this series! I’m excited to have another Birch series finished in the near future! And then I can work on Loki’s installment because you all are so dang convincing.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Chapter 6: I can cry, beg and whine

Thor was insatiable. That was the only word you could think to describe him but it didn’t feel strong enough. His hunger, his persistence, his complete control over you was indescribable. He held your apartment, your job, your very existence in his grip. 

You woke up to him beside you in your double bed, too small for both of you but it only gave him a reason to be on top of you. You went to work late more days than not that week. And even when you didn’t go home to find him on your couch, he wasn’t long behind. 

There was no hiding from him in Birch and there was no way out. It was a truth you denied for too long because you weren’t from there. But it wasn’t about the town, it wasn’t the town that trapped you. It was the people, it was the attitude. It was those bikers.

Friday came and he was there waiting but he wasn’t sprawled out on your sofa as usual. He wore his colours, ready to go somewhere. 

He combed his fingers through the tails of his blond hair as you unzipped your jacket and set your bag on the shoe rack. He checked himself in the mirror that hung along the entryway and planted his hand on the wall as he leaned over you.

“Put on something nice,” he purred as he grabbed your chin and tilted your face towards him, “if it wasn’t so cold, I’d say something slutty.”

You didn’t have a chance to grimace before he kissed you. You swallowed your revulsion and waited for him to let you go. As you knelt to remove your boots, he tickled along the back of your head.

“Mmm, I’m almost tempted to let you stay down there,” he taunted, “but we’re already late.”

“Late for what?” you stood and brushed past him. He followed closely and groped your ass. You were almost used to his incessant touching.

“I got business tonight,” he said.

“Your business,” you insisted as you entered the bedroom. You made no move to change and sat on the bed as you rubbed your eyes, “I have no interest in whatever it is you deal in and I’m dead tired.”

“I know I’ve been… hard on you,” he smirked as there was no true remorse in his tone, “but how am I supposed to help myself?”

You looked at him sharply and snarled. “I really don’t feel like going to the bar--”

“We’re not going down there,” he interrupted, “but the girls are expecting you.”

He went to the closest and slid open the door. You shook your head at the wall and didn’t move. You knew there was no arguing with him. It made your blood boil. You hated that feeling of helplessness. You hated his kind of men and how they used women like things, painting their desires as your own.

“This is nice,” he tossed a forgotten pair of leggings with leather strips along the side on the bed and a silver top with trumpet sleeves slit along the inside, “bet your ass looks wonderful in those.”

“Can’t I have one night--”

“It’s business. The women have their time and we have ours. Get up.” He said sternly, “though I don’t mind helping you into these.”

He lifted the leggings and stretched the high elastic waist and bit his lip. You stood and snatched them from him. He did not leave, didn’t even back away as you turned and dropped them back on the bed. You stripped off your wool pants and the striped blouse. 

You wiggled into the leggings, embarrassed at how your ass jiggled and he purred in response. The top was tight across your tits and pushed them up dangerously against the neckline. You never wore it because that very reason; too much attention where you didn’t need it.

“See,” he snapped his knuckles against your ass, “sexy as hell.”

“You gonna tell me where we’re going?” you asked as you crossed your arms.

“Just a little get together,” he framed your face with his large hands, “with your Birch boys.”

He said nothing else as he latched onto your arm and turned to drag you behind him. You barely lifted your feet in your reluctance but you sensed his impatience growing. You contented yourself that in the least he would be distracted by other people long enough to leave you alone for just a few minutes.

💀

The motorcycle ripped through the early evening air and you shivered against his back. The air was still bitter but the roads were cleared of snow enough to maneuver the steel beast. He drove out of town and along the country roads, those were more treacherous than the main row.

You pulled up to the farmhouse, the old lot recently renewed as the house shone from within. Thor slowed and killed the engine. He flipped out the kickstand and nudged you. You climbed off and he followed your lead. He shoved the keys in his pocket and unstrapped his helmet as he let out a ‘brrr’.

“Come on,” he nodded to the porch steps as you undid your own helmet. 

You walked up to the house and he knocked. He took your helmet from you as you waited for an answer. You heard voices and the approach of footsteps from the other side. The door opened and Steve’s girl smiled out at you and pushed open the screen door.

“Oh! You’re here!” She chimed, “I used your mother’s lemon meringue recipe. And oh,” she beamed at you, “we haven’t seen you lately.”

“Work,” you said, it wasn’t exactly a lie, “it’s nice to see you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything, I--”

“I have everything under control,” she clapped her hands, “we’re just trying to figure out the shaker. Come in.”

She backed up and Thor held the door as you passed through first. You took your boots off at the mat and she beckoned you further in. “Thor, the guys are just in the living room,” she pointed to her left, “we’re in the kitchen,” she motioned behind her, “working on dinner.”

“Mmm,” you grumbled and nodded. Before you could step forward, Thor caught you and drew you back to him. He kissed you and you bore it in simmering humiliation.

“Have fun,” he squeezed your ass and let you go as he turned to find the other men.

You huffed and turned your attention to Steve’s girl as she waited awkwardly. She rubbed her hands together as she walked with your down the hallway. “Steve’s like that, you know? Touchy feely. I get so… embarrassed…” her voice trailed off, “sorry, I shouldn’t--”

“I always wondered about you and him. You’re an odd pair,” you said.

“Well, it’s not anything I expected but, um… well, this is our house--” she gestured around her as she led you into the kitchen, “you know, he bought it for me.”

“Hey, don’t change the subject,” you said a bit too tersely, “you said Steve embarrasses you but you--”

“And Thor does it to you so… you know that’s how they are,” she squeaked.

“All of them,” Bucky’s girl said and you only noticed her as she shook the metal shaker, “it’s why we need alcohol.”

You exhaled and came up to the counter as Steve’s girl went to the stove and lifted the lid on the skillet to stir the contents, “please, don’t put a lot of gin in mine. I don’t do well with alcohol.”

You leaned on the marble as you watched the other woman pour the bright pink liquid into a finely shaped glass on a stem, “looks better than last time.” She turned and set it beside the stove for the hostess.

“So…” you frowned as you thought and she began to measure gin and all the other ingredients before her, “why are you with them--”

“Why are you with Thor?” she interrupted, “we saw how much you hate him at the bar. We felt the same but don’t act stupiid like you don’t know what’s going on. These men are given everything they want and when they aren’t they take it anyway.”

“He takes care of my ma, though--” Steve’s girl intoned.

“And that makes it all hunky dorey,” the other sneered, “she sucks at saying it out loud but she can’t stand Steve as much as we can’t stand the rest of them.”

The other woman was quiet as she replaced the lid and reached for the drink. She fidgeted and looked down at her frilly apron. She was dressed like some housewife out of the suburban fifities, although her dress was still uncomfortably short.

“What good does it do to say it?” she mumbled.

Bucky’s girl mixed another cocktail and poured it pristinely before she slid it over to you, “I’m getting the hang of this but I’m happy the men are sticking to beer. My arm’s getting tired.”

You took the glass and tasted the drink. You hummed as it surprised you. “Aren’t you a bartender?”

“Server. I open beers and believe it or not but they don’t serve margaritas down at The Asp.”

You shrugged and kept drinking as she made her own drink and turned to rest her elbow on the counter lazily.

“I should’ve warned you. Not that it would’ve helped but I could’ve,” she said.

“No, it doesn’t matter. It’s like you said. They take whatever they want. Nothing we can do, is there?”

You were silent as you all sipped. The gin warmed your chest and you let it sink into your veins. Your commiseration was grim but comforting. To think that you weren’t entirely alone was as heartening as it was saddening.

💀

The alcohol heightened your irritation as dinner ended. You were left to help clear the table in your matronly duties with the other women. You were insulted at the outdated binary of the arrangements and it felt less like a get together and more of a job.

The men, Steve, Bucky, Thor, and Loki returned to the living room and their voices threaded the air as the dishes clinked in your grasp. The blonde biker’s brother was unexpected but he seemed just unhappy to be there as you. There were a few minutes during the meal where you sympathised with him as he rolled his eyes and failed to hide any ounce of his spite for Thor.

When you finished up, Steve’s girl took several more beers to the men before she returned to grab her glass of water. You took the vodka cooler, your third drink of the night, and went along with them to the living room.

You hung back as Steve’s girl neared him and was drawn down beside him impatiently, his arm around her shoulders as he almost spilled her water. Bucky’s girl sat beside him and tolerated his arm around her waist though he was less clingy than his accomplice. Loki stood by the window and stared out into the dull snow as Thor perched in the cozy armchair.

You went to sit beside Steve’s girl but you were stopped by a tut. 

“I’ve got a seat for you, kitten,” Thor slurred. The beer was thick in his voice, as potent as the liquor in your stomach. You turned to him as he rubbed his thigh.

“I’m fine, here,” you insisted and his smile fell.

“You know I wasn’t asking, kitty,” he warned, “come on and be a good girl. We’re guests. Let’s not make a scene.”

You stood in front of the couch and glared at him. You sighed softly and pushed your shoulders back. You marched over to him and turned your bottle to splash it over his front. You acted surprised at your feigned clumsiness and took a step back.

“Oops,” you uttered coyly, “how careless--”

He was up on his feet in a moment as he slammed his own bottle down on the small table beside the chair. He knocked yours from your hand entirely and the air stilled with tension. His blue eyes flared as he grabbed your wrist.

“Better help me get cleaned up,” he growled and looked over your shoulder, “excuse us.”

You resisted him for a moment but he yanked and nearly took you off your feet. He spun and kept hold of you as he forced you after him and stormed from the room. You stumbled out into the hall behind him and he flung you ahead of him. 

He gripped the back of your neck and ripped open a door to his right. He shoved you inside and you hit the sink as the clasp clicked loudly. He crowded you in the half bath as you braced yourself against the porcelain, the scent of beer tingling in your nostrils. You stared at his dark shirt, stained with his drink.

“I thought I trained you better, kitten,” he snarled, “just when I thought you were starting to purr.”

“Fuck you,” you said as the alcohol thinned the filter between your thoughts and your words.

“Oh, I can make that happen,” he hissed as he lifted the hem of his shirt and tore it off. He hung it over the towel bar and felt along his damp torso, “I can’t let you bite and not give you a good swat for it.”

“Don’t be an ass. It’s a drink. You can’t just talk to me like that. I’m not some animal--”

“Shhh,” he hushed as he covered your mouth and pushed you against the sink, “I’m not listening. That’s not how this works…” he leaned in and lowered his voice, “you realise how bad this is? You challenged me in front of men; I won’t have it. We’re past niceties, kitten.”

His hands slipped over your hips and to your ass. He scooped you up and rested you atop the porcelain as he crushed his body against yours. He grabbed your chin and smothered your lips with his as he rolled his pelvis against you.

His hand fell and crawled along your throat. You turned your head away and gasped as his fingers hooked under the elastic of your leggings.

“What are you--”

“Don’t play dumb,” he nipped at your throat, “we’ve done this enough.”

“Not here,” you pushed on his shoulders, “you can’t--”

“I can do--” his other hand fell to your waist and he gripped the elastic, “whatever--” his hands snaked around you as his fingers slid between the fabric and your skin, “I want.”

He ripped your leggings down with your panties and forced them down your legs. He pulled until your legs wet bent in front of you and you were curled awkwardly atop the sink as you struggled with him.

“Stop-- I’ll be good--”

“Too late,” he shoved his hand between your legs and felt around roughly. 

The fabric of your leggings trapped your thighs and kept you bent against him painfully as he hunched over you. He pulled his hand away to fumble with his fly and shifted as he pushed down his zipper. He set his feet firmly and hooked his other arm around you as he pressed his tip along your folds.

He guided himself blindly over your cunt, his beer-laced breath choked you as your head spun. He rested his forehead against yours as your head was propped up against the mirror. He lined himself up with your opening and thrust bluntly inside of you. You exclaimed in surprise as the intrusion blazed through you.

You were drunk enough that it felt good but you were aware enough of what was happening. You slapped him and his head snapped to the side. He pulled back and slammed into you even deeper. He brought his lips to yours again and kissed you sloppily as he rocked against you. The counter groaned under both of your weight as you tried to hold in your voice.

He sped up as your breath quickened in time with his. You closed your eyes as he once more descended to your through and kissed and nipped at your skin. His hips tilted into you steadily as you wriggled against him.

He pushed his hand between your bodies and pressed two fingers to your clit. He rubbed as he kept his pace and you murmured as your drunken body responded. You dug your nails into his shoulders and your feet arched as the ripple began to flow over you. Your peak rose fast and you cried out without restraint as it took you off guard.

His own grunts added the furor and he moved faster atop you. His knee hit the front of the counter and he sunk to his limit as he quaked. He stopped and held himself as deep as he could, sliding back slowly only to ease back in as he came in long strokes.

He stopped and rested his head in the crook of your neck, his blond hair falling forward as he caught his breath. You shuddered and nudged his shoulders until he stood. He slipped out of you and sent a chill up your spine. Your body fell limp and you dropped from the counter onto shaky legs.

You felt his cum trickle down your thigh as he reached for the toilet paper and wiped himself clean. Your vision hazed as you reached for some as well and kept the mess from dripping into your panties. He cleared his throat and turned to examine his wet tee shirt. You pulled up your leggings and sniffed.

 It was all so sudden it was as if nothing had happened at all. You held yourself up against the wall and a knock came from the door. He opened it without pretense and greeted Steve’s girl as she peered inside nervously and glanced at you briefly. 

She held a folded shirt in her hands as she blinked meekly. She knew, they all knew. You had no doubt that they’d heard it all.

“Um, hopefully this fits,” she said as she handed the tee shirt to him, “and, we… we’re just about to have dessert.”

“Great. I’ve got quite the appetite,” he replied, “we’ll be out soon.”

He closed the door and turned back to look at himself in the mirror. He brushed past you so you were flush to the wall as he pulled on the shirt. It was too tight around his thick arms and his broad chest. He tidied his hair and rolled his shoulders as he admired his reflection.

“I think now you’ll be good, kitten,” he winked and reached to touch your cheek cloyingly, “best not to get my hackles up again.”

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 02  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00   01

⇢ Word Count : 

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots. 

A missed call from your uncle. 

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb.  She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong. 

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at  Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

 “You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’.  As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a  little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.” 

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “  You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. 

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead.  A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door.  You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

[mackeydoodledoo]

Twice the Chaos: Chapter 1

Pairing: Rosalie Hale x (Fem!DemonHybrid)OC: Pandora Barlowe

Summary: You were only passing through. You had nowhere to go; you were the spawn of Satan himself. There was no place in the world for you. Until you met a blonde vampire. 

Warnings: Parental Abandonment, Depression, Chaotic Life

A/n: Listen... I’m just tryna see something here...

Key: Bold/Italics = Telepathic Conversation/Thoughts

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your mother had left you when you were of age; not wanting to take care of a freak. That was how your mother always referred to you. Your Father? He was never around. Since being left out into the streets, life has been absolute chaos. You try to make a living for yourself; but you began developing new features.

“I’m sorry, we can no longer have you be working at our establishment,” The owner comes up to you

You were just trying to clean tables; next was you getting fired?

“What? Why? I haven’t violated any of your rules,” You try to counter-argue, “More so, I’ve been trying to not violate them...”

“Your... Vibe... Everyone’s giving us weird looks... It’d be better if you no longer worked here,” He doesn’t budge

You storm out of your former workplace. 

That is IT! I’m done! 

You try running your hands through your hair but you felt something knock against your fingertips. 

Stubs?! That can’t be... 

You saw something move from the bottom corner of your eye. 

A tail?! What the absolute hell is happening?

You run off to the woods in order to avoid getting any further attention from humans. You did everything... Just simply trying to get through like at the age of 18. Clearly it wasn’t going to happen... 

You are beginning to become like me...

Who said that?! 

You were beginning to freak out.

Your father...

What are you talking about?! My dad was never around! He could be dead for all I know and care!

You don’t get it do you?... I am your father...

Father? 

You were sure your father just ran off with another woman. But, it wasn’t logically possible to have someone telepathically speak to you. 

Why am I going to believe some voice in my head that’s never been around until now?! 

You just try to get the same voice out of your head.

You’re like me... You can come home. You won’t have to worry about being judged here...

Home?! My mother threw me out as soon as I turned 18... Since then I couldn’t even keep a single job afloat without anyone that comes within my radius getting me fired because of my “bad vibes”! Well, look at it this way-

No! Face it! There’s no place for me!!!!! Heaven or Hell? Doesn’t matter... There’s no damn place for a freak like me...

The voice in your head ceased then. But, the development of new features hadn’t. Your stubs? Grew into small horns. Tail? Resembled a Demon’s tail. Pointed end and everything.. It’s been months since you had your last job... Anyone really. You use a beanie to cover your horns and you shove your tail into your pants or jacket; whichever was comfortable. You mysteriously was still stable enough to create your own little place in the woods. But, it was still depressing for you. You still thought about how your mother abandoned you, getting fired just because of the vibes you give off, despite trying to be a normal human.

“Why me?...” You ask yourself, “Why me?....”

You look up as soon as you felt a single raindrop fall. 

I need a new tarp... But, I’m not in for going back into town... They wouldn’t eve just as so sell me a new tarp... Whatever I guess...

You had passed out while the rain was going on. However, when you open your eyes, you were expected to feel wet. But, you felt warm. You look up to see a brand new tarp draped over your small hideout and you look back down to see a Sherpa-lined blanket engulfing you in warmth. 

Who?...

“Got me these?...” You ask yourself

You crawl out of the hideout and try to look around the woods to see if there was anyone else that had been camping out. But, no such people were there. You scoff but felt thankful that someone was sympathetic enough to give you a whole new tarp to go over your head and a blanket. 

Fortunately it had stopped raining by the time you went out to go fishing to get your fill for the day. To be honest, it didn’t feel so bad when you would be out fishing, you found a big enough lake to see the sun rise and set over the horizon, you were able to catch a handful of fish to get you through each day. 

I see you’ve grown accustomed to living on your own... Nice job kiddo.

What did I say about coming out to “chat”? Don’t try and persuade me to “Come home”.

I’m not. I’m just checking in on you. You claim that there’s no place for you here... Yet, you’ve made a small place for yourself?

Might as well be somewhere off the grid. 

Not to that once blondie...

A blondie?... Who?...

Not sure, but that new tarp and blanket? That’s from her.... She’s been coming nearly every night...

You watch me sleep?...

I do it to protect you so you could sleep. 

Don’t try and act like my dad... I’m fine without him.... 

You still don’t believe me?..

Still haven’t seen you face to face. 

You wouldn’t want to see me face to face....

Good, we’re on the same page then. Don’t think I’d want to meet my old man anyway...

Once dusk had hit, you were putting out a firepit you had set up to cook the fish you had caught not too long before. 

I got you kiddo. Go ahead and sleep.

I said don’t treat me like you’re trying to be like my dad. I never knew him anyway... 

You take the blanket and use a couple of your flannels as a pillow.

Goodnight...

Night.

The same old routine persisted. You felt the off-putting vibes on how you were able to be this stable, especially living in an unused shed of all places that was clearly in a state of decay. 

I think that blondie has taken a liking to you.

She’s still in question? She doesn’t even know me... How could you know?

When she would come check on you, just last night she was lying next to you. I know because she’s been visiting every night. 

And she can’t see you?

No one can. 

That’s a ‘shocker’... But can she not hear you?...

Only you and myself.

“Weird...” You take a deep breath as you sit against the tree 

You were kind of fishing from sitting on a tree branch, decently high from the ground. 

You’ve thought about the last several nights you were sleeping in your little hideout space. You would open your eyes, but still be half asleep. As you were half awake and half asleep; you could have sworn you felt an arm hooked around your waistline. But you don’t think anything of it as you pass right back out. The feeling would be gone in the morning. 

You really think there is someone?

She’s come every night. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be taken to where she lives.

Out here? In the middle of nowhere? I doubt it.. 

Like clockwork, you set up your makeshift flannel pillow and lay across the old tarp you decided to use as a covering form the molding hardwood floor.

You open your eyes and realize the cold morning feeling is no longer around. Your eyes begin adjusting to so much light coming into the room.

“You’re awake now?” A feminine voice asks you

You were startled. Startled to the point where you fell off the bed. You groan at the impact. Trying to gain your vision back, a figure comes walking over to you. You immediately sit up and begin backing away.

“You-you don’t wanna be near me,” You say, almost in a drunken state, “I’m no good around people...”

“Says who?” She asks

“Says the many people that have fired me from jobs because of the vibes I give off,” You groan when you feel the wall against your back

“Well, they just go by the book cover,” She says, helping you back into bed, “You should lay down... You hit your head there pretty hard.”

In your still blurred vision; the woman’s hair was brunette. 

That isn’t her... 

But, she isn’t giving off any bad vibes...

I’ll be the judge of that...

You try to sit up again but a hand is gently pressed against your shoulder.

“My daughter will be here any minute to check on you,” She says, calmly, “You should thank her when you have the chance... She felt miserable watching you every night.”

She... Felt miserable?...

See? She does like you.

But, she still barely knows me. I don’t even know her name and vice versa. 

That could change here.

Will you just stop talking?....

The next time you open your eyes, your vision slowly coming together; you saw a faint color of blonde. 

Could it be?...

“I told you you shouldn’t have brought that... Thing in here. She’ll get us all killed,” A male voice tries to persuade the blonde

“I couldn’t just leave her there,” She argues, “She was miserable. Carlisle and Esme already said she could stay here under my care.”

“If you get us killed it’s your fault,” He replies

You hear him storm out of the room. 

“You’re awake for real now?” She sits at the bedside

“Where?-” You ask, trying to sit up

“My family estate,” She explains

“My-my stuff, some of my stuff-” You begin freaking out

“Already taken care of,” She slightly smiles

You sit up from the lush bedsheets, taking deep breathes as you try to wrap your head around the last several hours.

“How long was I out?” You ask the blonde

“Several hours,” She answers, “I continuously checked on you... You were... Crying, tossing and turning, talked in your sleep...”

“Oh? What about?” You ask

“Does... ‘Why me?...’, ‘What am I?...’ Ring a bell?” She asks

It does for me.

Shut up. 

“I may have had those kinds of panic attacks while I slept...” You explains, “Which is why I look like shit right?..”

“I was going to say that you’ve slept for so long,” She says, cocking an eyebrow at you, “But if you think that too than you do you.”

It was an awkward silence for the both of you. You didn’t know what to make of this blondie.

I like her.

I said shut up. 

What? She’s pretty, she’s looked after you the last serval nights.

That doesn’t mean she’s my soulmate or anything... We barely know each other, let alone each others’ names.

“My name’s Rosalie Hale,” the blondie answers

“Huh?” You ask, removing the bedsheets from your legs

“You... Didn’t know my name so... Thought I’d tell you,” She says, “Now, you must be hungry.”

“Yeah,” You say, in a suspicious tone, “Lead the way blondie.”

“It’s Rosalie,” She corrects you

“Alright blondie,” You continue using that nickname

Rosalie turns to you to try and hit you. You easily block her arm with yours. For the first time since childhood, you laughed. A genuine laugh had come out of your mouth. You stopped dead in your tracks; making Rosalie turn to you.

“You okay?” she asks, walking up to you

A chill runs up your spine as you feel her gentle touch against your forearm. You look back at her with a slight surprise. But, Rosalie didn’t seem phased by your sudden change in expression.

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I haven’t laughed in awhile... It’s.. Been a very long time.”

“How long is a long time?” She asks

“Probably when I was a little kid...” You sigh, “Since then, I’ve never really learned to smile, laugh or experience any sort of positive thing...”

“I’m so sorry,” She says, her expression changing to concern, “Well, what matters most is that you now have an actual roof over your head. You are under my care now.”

“You- don’t do me any favors blondie!” You try to protest

“Too late!” She smiles, letting out a small giggle

Ooooh, I do like her.

Aren’t you a fire spirit or something? Lay off buddy.

Oh we getting jealous now huh? 

What?!- No! You aren’t physically here, so that means you can’t have blondie.

So you can?

That’s not what I’m saying- you know what, shut your trap!

“Your friend there is fond of me I see,” Rosalie blushes

“What? Him?” You ask, “You... Can hear him?”

“He’s in your head no?” She asks you

“Well, yes but- how can you know that?” You ask

“Let’s just say I’m full of surprises,” She smirks 

You watch her walk off into the kitchen as you make eye contact with what looked to be her family members. 

“I hope you’re well rested now sweetheart,” A brunette speaks

“That’s the adoptive mother and father; Carlisle and Esme,” Rosalie explains to you

“I’m sorry you have had a tough time these past few months,” Carlisle says, “But, you are more than welcome here.”

“Oh, just at least I can get back up on my feet,” You say, bashfully, “I wouldn’t want to take up any more space than I already have..”

“Nonsense!” A male voice enthusiastically says

Your feet lose contact with the ground. You let out a yelp as you try to get a vision of who had just grabbed you.

“That is my brother... Emmett Cullen,” Rosalie scoffs, “He’s a little bit... Chaotic..”

“Chaotic is my middle name,” He jokes as he sets you right back onto the ground

“Four of our other kids are somewhere around...” Carlisle explains, “Oh, they must be out hunting. You’ll see them when you see them.”

“Thank you again,” You say

Quite a family...

You’re telling me...

After you had gotten a proper meal for the first time in months, you found yourself in the library. You don’t really read that often anymore as you have come to the conclusion that it would take you a century to read a single book. 

“Looking for something in particular?” Rosalie asks from the doorway

“To be honest... No,” You answer, “I guess I’ve just been wandering aimlessly. Never really been in a house this... Spacious..”

It’ll be much more spacious when you come live with me.

Like I said before. You are not my father and don’t try to have me come to wherever the hell it is that you live in.. Not a chance..

“You don’t get along with your dad very well?” Rosalie asks

“Never knew him...” You sigh, looking out to the forestry that surrounded the estate, “My mother said he left as soon as I was born...”

“Hey, before you go on, do you... Want to talk about it elsewhere?” She asks, placing her palm over your upper arm

“That would be nice,” You slightly smile

“I know a place,” Rosalie smiles

In one swift motion, Rosalie hoists you over her shoulder.

“You better hold on leech,” Rosalie teases

“That should be ME telling you that,” You nervously chuckle

Rosalie hops out of an open window; breaking into an inhuman speed. You weren’t sure where to hold on along Rosalie’s clothing without touching an area where Rosalie wouldn’t want you to touch her. So you just hang over her shoulder. Almost like a heavy weight.

“You doing okay?” Rosalie asks

“Yep!” You sort of lie, “Good as we can be blondie!”

“We’re almost there!” Rosalie announces to the both of you

Chapter 2

[elfwoodfae]

“Slow” Harrison Eo Wells x reader

Author’s note: This is pure smut no plot or anything, thank you so much to @harrisonwellsisdaddy for giving this wings and to everyone in discord who feeds the thirst trap.

WARNING: Smut. Please don’t read if under 18.

Gif credits to the owner, I found this one on google.

Rain poured from the sky as he carried you, speeding you to a safe place. It had gone horribly wrong. The plan was for you to leave before he had let the meta-human out of the cell, but of course you had come back and had ended up caught up in the mix. Luckily it was a minor injury, a sprained wrist from being thrown against a wall, but even if you were some sort of an inconvenience, it was on him that you had gotten hurt.

You were still jittery and nervous around him, ever since finding out who he really was. Obviously he had threatened you to shut your mouth up but even as he hated to admit it the look of terror and the tears in your eyes that day had touched him. Before you had found out about him, you had gone on a date, the two of you. He didn’t want to, he tried to shrug you off but you were so persistent and so sweet to him that he had ended up agreeing, there had been sexual tension between both of you, with you always admiring who Harrison Wells was and him being alone for so long and trying to keep you on check had made him grow fond of you. Of course all of that went to hell when you discovered him.

Once he made it through the door with you in his arms he laid you in his sofa, you were soaking wet and he was trying to check your injury. After wrapping your wrist up you had tried to leave, but he wasn’t having it, you were to stay put until that meta-human was caught again.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked as he observed you.

“Since you are planning to keep me here, can I please have a shower? I am cold and uncomfortable.” You told him, avoiding his gaze as you had done since finding out.

Guiding you to the very luxurious bathroom, he handed you a black sweater of his to wear while your clothes dried. His bathroom was huge, a glass panel shower and very extravagant mirror on the walls. He probably loved looking at himself.

After getting cleaned up and drying yourself you grabbed the sweater. It was long enough to cover your ass and fall right before your knees, and loose enough to be comfortable. Opening the door he was right in front of it, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

He took you in, the way his clothes fitted you, your bare legs and the way your checks warmed up. Guiding you back to the sofa he reapplied the bandage to your arm, he sat in the end of the sofa, while you laid across it, the fireplace was lighted up to warm you up. Your feet grazed his lap and by instinct you tried to retract them away from him but he was faster and grabbed them, moving them over his lap while looking at the fire, his expression unreadable.

Out of boredom his fingers started caressing your leg, rubbing up and down, never going farther away than your knee. Turning on your back so you could look at him you spoke for the first time in a while without him having to prompt you.

“I wish I hadn’t found out, I am sure we could have been great together, I wanted it to work so bad.”

“I wish you hadn’t either. I didn’t want you, I didn’t want to go out with you, I knew it would only complicate things. But you were so pushy, so sweet and I couldn’t refuse you.” He said still looking at the fire.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this. Ever since that date we had you became stuck in my mind, I would observe you, wondering how I could have allowed you to screw up my plans so easily.” He finished.

“I always wondered what it would have felt like to kiss you.” In a moment of bravery you admitted. “I wondered how soft your hair was, or how you smelled, but none of that matters now.” You finish looking away to the fire.

Why did you had to tell him that, it was stupid to admit now, suddenly shame came over you and you wished you could just crawl under a bed and hide. Even if he was evil and twisted you still liked him, he still made you nervous and jittery.

His eyes trailed to your form, taking in the way your head was looking to the side, you jawline defined with the light of the fire and your neck exposed as your chest fell and rose softly. He moved your legs out of the way, and as if by instinct, as if a force beyond himself was moving him by command he started to crawl over you. Your head snapped in his direction as your knee lifted up to his abdomen to stop him out of nerves, forgetting that there was no underwear under your shirt. His eyes flickered for half a second down as a smirk played on his lips. Quickly you pushed the sweater down again in case anything had been revealed.

“What are you doing?” You questioned him warily.

“What does it seem like I’m doing?” He replied, moving his hands up your knee to grab it and move it to the side.

His arms came at either side of your head, the space cramped in the sofa. He wasn’t thinking straight and neither were you, but as you looked into his eyes and yours flickered to his lips only one thought crossed your mind.

He moved his lips to yours, softly, tasting you and seeing if you would push him away. Breaking the kiss he moved back, only for your hand to shoot up to his hair and bring him back down again. Kissing him deeply this time, he ran his tongue flat against your lips, asking you to open your mouth. He tasted all of you, exploring you, while his hand rested on your thighs. His lips moved to your jawline, kissing and moving down your neck, leaving love marks and sucking on the skin, making you moan while he bit into it, rubbing his tongue over it after.

He was making you a moaning mess under him, your skin was warm and the way it tasted was driving him insane. He wanted to touch more of you, to feel you. But the moment his hands moved up your thighs his body couldn’t contain the excitement anymore, making him vibrate all of him like the first time he had become a speedster, every cell in his body too excited to be contained, his eyes illuminated red for a second at the same time thunder roared through the sky, making you open your eyes and push your hand against his chest, your heart beating out of your chest.

He was moving too fast, your mind had been able to trick you into thinking that this was the man you knew but the moment he vibrated and his eyes illuminated you were aware who he really was, what he represented and what he could do.

“I’m sorry I just,” you didn’t even know why you were apologizing, but you didn’t want to push him away. You just needed him to go slower.

“Can you,” you swallowed avoiding his eyes. “Can you just take it slower?” You finished while avoiding his eyes.

“Are you sure?” He was making sure you were okay with this, he could be a lot of things but he would never force you into something you didn’t want.

“Yes I am, I am just nervous, I honestly never thought this situation would happen.” You continued and to prove him you were serious you slowly moved his head back down to kiss him.

The hand on your thigh remained still while his lips kissed you softly, moving slowly down your neck again, kissing and nipping at the skin. His other hand tangled in your hair while his forearm held him up over you. He ran his tongue up your neck to your ear, biting the earlobe softly, making you squirm under him and moan at the feeling. He took his time working you to relax, kissing your lips, your neck, making you forget what plagued your mind.

Your hands moved over his abdomen to the hem of his shirt, running them under you could feel his skin, the muscles of his abdomen tensing up at the effort of holding him up. You grabbed on the hem of it and moved it up his body, signaling for him to take it off. He lifted himself momentarily off of you and removed it, moving back down to kiss you, when his mouth left yours and he moved to your neck you opened your eyes to admire his shoulder and his back, from this angle you could see the curve of his ass through his pants.

Your hands ran down his back, feeling his skins, his muscles, while the hand on your thigh started to move up, slowly as he worked harder on your neck. His fingers felt the softness of your skin, moving higher until they reached your hip. Once his fingers grazed over your hip bone, the realization that you didn’t have any underwear on made his cock twitch in his pants as a growl escaped him against your skin. His hand moved up the side of your stomach, until it reached your breast, squeezing it softly and grinding his hips into you out of pure need to feel you, to get some relief. He was making you a mess but he was a mess himself, desperate for some friction.

His hand moved back down, grabbing the hem of the sweater and lifting it over your body, exposing you completely to him. He threw the piece of clothe somewhere behind you and moving back down to kiss you, his mouth running lower to your breast, kissing the soft skin of one while his hand caressed the other, you were so soft, so delicious. He was going to explode in his pants if he didn’t go inside of you soon.

Your hands found the button of his pants, opening them slowly. His hand helped yours to remove his pants, getting his briefs out of the way too letting his cock free. He kissed you while his hand moved to your thigh, running up to your ass, squeezing it roughly and opening your leg to fit himself in between, he was too desperate to wait much longer, his hand moving down to feel you, the moment his fingers grazed your entrance and felt how wet you were he almost came.

Moving his cock to your entrance he moved it through your folds, letting you soak his head before he positioned it against your entrance, pushing slowly to let you adjust since he hadn’t stretched you beforehand with his fingers. When he was halfway inside he broke the kiss, growling into your mouth at the way you squeezed him, making his whole self vibrate of pure pleasure.

Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, scratching down his back when he was fully inside of you, scratching him down while you took a moment to adjust to his size. He started moving slowly, going almost all the way out before thrusting back in again, making you moan and move your head back, he felt so good and full. His hand found your leg and he hooked it over his hip, giving him a better angle to enter you.

His hand rested on your waist, holding you in place while you squirmed under him, his half lidded eyes taking in your face as you moaned for him, it was taking all of him not to snap his hips against yours at full speed and fuck you into oblivion, he shouldn’t want to come this fast into it but you were maddening him. He moved to your neck, kissing you and marking your skin, making you get closer, while he speeded up his movement, holding your leg higher up his hip and squeezing it harshly. His body started to vibrate, not being able to contain the excitement of his fast approaching orgasm and every time his hips connected to yours the vibrations would go straight to your clit, making you arch your back into him. You were close, so close, feeling the knot tightening up in your stomach.

He felt himself about to come, moving deeper as his hip connected to yours, feeling you tighten around him as your orgasm hit you, making him feel impossibly tight. His hand moved to your chin, keeping you in place as he watched you come, your eyes half lidded staring into his red glowing eyes as he tried to keep his face from breaking down while he came, failing miserably as he came deep inside of you, closing his eyes and opening his mouth while throwing his head back.

Once out of your high he switched you, letting you lay on top of him while he played with your back, both of you looking at the fire while you grew sleepy, soon falling asleep on his chest.

[nat-20s]

for @jonmartinweek THE FINAL DAY prompt- Pining/Longing. This one takes place, well, you’ll see

~*~

A Study of Longing, Told in Six Parts

Part 1

Martin wonders if he’ll ever get to a point in his life where kindness doesn’t feel like a shock to the system. It’s already surprising enough when Tim and Sasha invite him for drinks in a genuine offer of friendship, but for that kindness to come from Jon? Martin has no idea what to do with being believed, let alone being protected.

And now here he is, blearily opening his eyes only to find himself staring at a mass of hair. As he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, the shape resolves into the form of one Jonathan Sims. He had apparently fallen asleep with his head cushioned on his arms, against the cot Martin was currently occupying. It’s not an image that Martin can fully process at the moment, so instead he debates whether or not to wake Jon up or quietly get off the cot to let him get some much needed sleep. He decides on the former, both thinking that it would be hell on his back to keep sleeping in that position, and that he would like an explanation.

Hand hovering above Jon’s shoulder, but not fully touching, Martin oh so quietly calls out, “Jon?”

That’s all it takes for Jon’s head to rush up with a gasp, glasses askew, and with the texture of his sleeves pressed in red marks on his face. It is a horribly endearing look. “Hrn?”

Martin opens his mouths, closes it, and waits for Jon to get his bearings. Jon smooths down his (frankly ridiculous) sweater-vest, adjusts his glasses, and slips back on his professional demeanor. “My apologies, Martin, I, ah, must have fallen asleep.”

Glancing to the crappy little digital clock resting on a file box next to him, Martin rolls his eyes. Only Jon could be quite so stuffy at 4:32 in the morning. “No apologies needed. Though, um, was there? Something you needed or..?”

Jon shakes his head and stands up, dusting off imaginary grime. “No, no, nothing like that. I had just, er. I had heard you cry out and I- I wanted to make sure nothing was going on. It appears that it simply a nightmare,so I will be.. taking my leave. Now.”

He doesn’t know what part of himself replies, “Oh! You don’t have to go!,” but he replies it anyway. Jon does that little thoughtful frown at him, which forces him to continue, “I mean, if you wanted the cot. For sleeping. I’ll probably be awake for the rest of the night, so, you know, no skin off my back .”

“Ah. No, that’s quite alright, Martin. Try to get some more sleep, there’s still a long work day ahead.”

Jon doesn’t even wait for a response before turning on his heel and leaving. Martin sort of hates how much he wanted him to stay.

Part 2

Jon is laughing. Jon is terrified, all the damn time, and yet, somehow, he’s laughing. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if he was still capable of it. Martin is gesticulating wildly with his fork, animated in a way that Jon’s only ever seen when in they’re in the middle of a rather silly debate. He thinks this lunch’s topic was something like whether or not snakes were cute? He lost the thread of conversation about half an hour ago, honestly. Covering his mouth, he lets the giggles run through his whole body, shaking his shoulders and heating his core. He feels light, heady, like he’s reminiscing with an old friend and they’re both on the edge of having had too much to drink.

He only wishes he could trust this feeling. He wishes that he could trust Martin, that they were normal coworkers having a normal lunch, that the previous person in Jon’s position had gone into an easy retirement instead of being violently murdered. He wishes he hadn’t read that letter telling him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Martin, Martin, who took him to lunch and brought him tea and seemed so very warm in so very cold circumstances, was lying to him.

Jon stops laughing.

Part 3

Of course, the second his body hits the simultaneously stiff and weirdly lumpy motel mattress, his phone goes off. It may only be about 8 pm, but he’s tired, and he’s sore, and he’s had a persistent headcold for the past week for some unholy reason, the last thing he wants to do is talk. However, only about four people have the number to the burner cell, and they’re almost certainly have a purpose behind their call.

Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh that turns into more of a groan, he picks up on the 4th ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jon! It’s Martin, I’m not sure if you have my number programmed in that phone, or if it even has caller ID if you do. Anyway, it’s been about a week since I’ve heard anything, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know, dead or arrested or anything.”

His previously tense and aching muscles all relax, without him consciously deciding to relax them, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face, because some time in the past year he’s become a parody of himself. Yes, maybe he should be more affronted by how much Martin’s tinny voice brings him comfort, but he’s had a rather terrible time of things since...since he began work in the archives, really, and he’s worn down enough that he can admit he misses his friend.

Huh. Friends. They are, aren’t they? Wonder when that happened. (He can guess, something involving a fake CV admission, but he doesn’t feel like it right now.) “Martin, I recognize your voice, no need to introduce yourself.”

“Right! Yes, uh, ‘course..of course you can. Right. Sooo...I take it you’re not dead, then.”

“Correct. I haven’t been arrested, either.” It’s only sort of a comforting lie, so Jon thinks it can be forgiven.

“Good. Great! Yeah, that’s...that’s good.”

The conversation could probably end there. Jon could probably tell Martin good night, and they’d hang up, and Jon could get the sleep he had been so desperately craving not moments ago. Somehow, he thinks that neither of them want that. Scrambling for something to talk about, Jon replies, “Hang on, isn’t it something like 2am over there?”

“It...might be.”

“Martin!”

“What! It’s not like you have a monopoly on bad sleeping habits. Besides, I was up anyway, and I just..”

“Just what?”

“I just missed your voice.”

Oh. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, and god. He had missed Martin’s voice too. “Really? I know you’ve had to listen to a fair number of tapes lately, thought you might be sick of it by now.”

“No. I mean, I am a bit tired of tapes, honestly, but even the ones that you recorded, that not really your voice, is it? I mean it is, but it doesn’t sound like you when you’re actually, um, you. I wanted..I wanted to hear you.”

Jon’s far too worn out to deal with that sentiment, and the way that it makes his heart clench. So instead  of addressing it, he says, “I am very close to being asleep.”

“Oh. Right, sorry, I’ll let you go-”

“No! No. Um. Would you mind staying on the line? Until I’m gone? I-I like hearing your voice. As well.”

“Oh! Sure, yeah, definitely. Anything in particular you want me to talk about?”

“Whatever you like. Something nice?”

“All right. I can do that. Um. Did I tell you about this little yarn shop I found the other day. It’s called ‘Puttin’ on the knitz’, and it’s…”

Jon peacefully drifts off, listening to the voice of the man who he can only admit in moments such as these, he wishes was in this bed, laying beside him.

Part 4

please come back please come back for the love of god come back I can’t believe you’re doing this do you have any idea how stupid this is come back to me come back come back come back

Part 5

There is plenty of things to long for in the apocalypse. A decent cuppa. The relief of actual sleep. Murdering Jonah Magnus. For there not to be a apocalypse. They are grateful, however, to not have to long for each other.

Part 6

Martin comes to without a knife in his hand, or bloodstains on his clothing. Those, under other circumstances, would be good things.

Martin comes to, laying in the grass, without anyone beside him. He barely has the moment to feel agony spike through him before he’s out once more.

There are no Jonathan Sims admitted to the hospital. As far as he can tell, no one was admitted into the hospital at the same time as him, and certainly no one with a stab wound.

There are thousands of ‘Jonathan Sims UK’, typed desperately into a library computer search bar, wielding mostly results about a sport manager and a romance novelist. None of the images are of the right person.

Sometimes Martin puts one foot in front of the other, carefully blank in heart and head. Surviving, even  during times that he’s not sure he wants to, is one of his greatest abilities.

Sometimes Martin despairs.

On the worst nights, he tries to call the Lonely back to him, tries to be swallowed whole. It never works. He’s not sure if it’s because the fears aren’t in the reality or if they’re not established enough to have any leverage or if his connection has simply been broken. (He doubts the last reason. He hasn’t been this alone since Tim’s funeral. Even then, Melanie had thrown a few stilted condolences towards him. No one is aware enough of him to give condolences now. He misses Melanie. He misses all of them. He misses Jon like a gaping, bleeding wound misses skin.)

Seven months later, and he has enough money saved and identity built that he moves on to Scotland. The little village they had been adjacent to exists in this reality. Daisy’s cottage does not.

On a whim, he enters the yarn shop. He’s not going to pick anything up, hobbies are the last thing he can focus on, but it’s nice to look. To feel the various textures, to take in the rich variance of colors, to, hopefully be present in his own body, if only for a moment.

Martin steps in. The bell chimes. He’s there. Standing in front of him. Whole. In a cry that’s closer to a gasp, he calls out, “JON!”

Jon turns, looks up at him, recognizes him even before he’s even fully seen him. It’s his Jon, he’s here he’s here he’s here. The callback of “MARTIN!” sounds like it was punched out of him, the start of a sob and a laugh all at once.

In a blink, they’re together, their embrace a tangle of limbs, a collision of lips, a mixture of tears. Martin can’t tell which of them is saying the litany of “thank god thank god thank god” and who’s repeating “it’s you it’s you it’s you.”

It’s Jon that’s telling him, “I knew you had to be here. I knew it, because I kept thinking. Surely. Surely this new universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow me to live, but to make me live without you.”

It’s Martin that replies, “I didn’t know. I thought it would be that cruel. Please don’t make me go through that again.”

Jon pulls him in tighter, eliminating the centimeter of space between them. Speaking into Martin’s neck, whispered in fierce devotion, Jon promises, “Never again. Never again. You and me. Together. For the rest of our lives.”

Barely discernible through his sobbing, Martin tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~*~

There are people that think that wanting is more worthwhile than having. Martin thinks, frankly, that those people have never been in love.

[starfinss]

Shelter From The Storm — Razor 1/2

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Summary: You get lost in Wolvendom when searching for berries. Razor helps you out, leading to a new friendship.

Pairing: Razor x Reader

Rating: Fluff (SFW)

Word Count: 2,677

For future reference, all characters are depicted as 18+

You'd somehow managed to get yourself hopelessly lost on your quest to find enough berries to fill your basket. You wanted to bake a pie for Sara's birthday, and while she worked at Good Hunter and more than likely had access to the best pies in Mondstadt, you wanted her taste your grandmother's recipe. Her occupation and access to delicious pies would not stop you. But this was more than you bargained for. 

You'd ventured along the path outside of Mondstadt, attempting to take an alternate route to the Dawn Winery before doubling back and making your way back Springvale where you'd get a room at the inn and then head back to Mondstadt in the morning. It was supposed to be simple. But you'd ended up in the Archons only knew, which was far from simple. 

And it was getting dark. 

You'd dressed warm, it was mid autumn and winter was coming soon, and while Mondstadt didn't get nearly as cold as somewhere like Snezhnaya, the snowfall was still rather intense. It was the very end of berry season and you were making the most of it. Your outfit consisted of a cotton dress layered with a wool over skirt and a long wool cloak. You wore a pair of brown leather boots as well, gloves on your hands. You tugged the cloak more tightly around your body as the wind picked up. There was forest up ahead, dense and full of restless shadows so thick you could barely see past them. You had no idea where you were.

You turned in a full circle to try and regain your bearings, and after a moment or two, you realized you could see Mondstadt across the lake. There was the cathedral, backlit by the sinking sun, and all at once, you realized just where you were.

Wolvendom. 

Oh. Lovely. I'm going to be eaten by wolves.

You felt a raindrop splatter against your cheek and you looked up, face falling as you watched menacing clouds roll in, obscuring the stars that had just begun to freckle the sky. The God of Anemo was not on your side tonight. Your eyes scanned the area in front of you. The last thing you wanted was to be caught in one of Mondstadt's thunderstorms without shelter. 

"Thanks, Lord Barbatos," you muttered sarcastically. 

The wind didn't calm. 

You heard a twig snap behind you and you turned, tucking your basket against your chest almost like a shield. 

There was a hilichurl standing in front of you. It said something in that weird language they all spoke, something that didn't sound particularly friendly.

"Um," you stammered, "please don't hurt me."

It said something again, waving its club in front of it. You struggled to unsheathe your sword from its scabbard, the vision pendant hanging from the cord attached to your belt glowing softly in response. 

"Hey, can you just—"

The hilichurl lunged and you dropped your basket, blocking the club with your sword, swinging a leg out to hit the backs of the hilichurl's knees, making its legs buckle beneath it. You sent a blade of water sailing through the air as the hilichurl struggled to its feet, causing it to stagger back, knocking its head on the side of the ledge behind it. You scooped your basket up and made a run for it, only stopping once you were safely behind a tree. 

The lone hilichurl was joined by a mitachurl, and you were suddenly in over your head. You had a vision, sure. You could fight, yes, of course. But you were no Knight of Favonius. And your longsword was no match for a massive axe. You couldn't make it work like Cavalry Captain Kaeya. All your combat training had come from your father, who was a knight and from your mother who knew more than a few tricks of her own.

Of course you could fight. But this was a bit much.

You slid your sword back into its scabbard, but the rasp of metal against leather alerted the monsters, and your eyes went wide. 

Uh oh. 

You tried to scramble up the tree you were hiding behind, but managed to twist your ankle, making you yelp in pain. Nevertheless, you persisted, hauling your body into the branches. 

A scream left your mouth when the hilichurl began shaking the tree. You wrapped your arms and legs around the trunk, hanging on with all your might, but the rain was beginning to fall, and the sudden slickness wasn't helping with keeping your hold on the tree. Your world  shuddered as something struck the tree, making you scream again, and you didn't have to look to know that the mitachurl had struck with its axe. A few more swings and the tree would be down.

You grunted with effort as you attempted to pull yourself farther up the tree, hopefully to where the branches thinned enough so when the tree fell you wouldn't end up being trapped. You would not die here, damn it. You refused to. Your hair was now sticking to your cheeks and forehead as rain water streaked your face, the freezing kind of rain that even hydro vision users like yourself weren't all that fond of. 

You had no choice but to cry for help, not knowing if anyone would hear you and seriously doubting that they would. 

"Help me! Help me!"

Your voice sounded desperate, but at this point, you were desperate. 

You heard a shout after the tree shook with another strike, then the crackle of thunder. There was the sound of exchanging blows, something that sounded like a snarl, something animalistic. The ground shook, jostling you free, and you lost your grip, falling down to the next branch, crying out in pain. 

The ground shook again and you fell, straight to the ground, into a heap of limbs and messy hair, your basket flying from your hand.

You saw a figure crackling with violet energy before everything went dark.

————————————

You awoke to a loud bang, followed by rumbling. Thunder. 

Where... am I?

Your head hurt. Hell, your everything hurt. There was something laying beside you, something warm and furry and soft. An animal? You didn't move to touch it. Your mind was muddled with confusion, but your eyes finally snapped open when a hand lifted one of your own hands. 

There was a young man hovering above you. He was wearing a brown hooded coat and a light brown poncho sort of top with tribal markings. The rest of his toned torso was left exposed. A necklace with what looked like fangs hung around his neck. 

His hair was long and messy and silver in color, and he had a handsome face, his eyes a shocking shade of scarlet. There was a scar on his left cheek. He looked to be around your age, maybe a little older.

Who...?

He blinked in surprise when he noticed your eyes were open.

"You wake," he said. His voice was a rough sound, low and almost raspy. He sounded like he didn't speak much. 

You took note of your surroundings. 

You were in a cave. There was a fire crackling a few yards from your feet, and from what you could see through the mouth of the cave, it had begun to pour outside. Thunder was growling overhead, lightning flashing, the brief light making it look like daytime. You were laying on a collection of pelts and a few pillows. The cave was otherwise empty except for the silver haired boy and you. You turned your head to look at whatever was beside you.

You were met with a wall of grey fur, and it took you a moment to realize you were staring at a wolf's back. There was a wolf beside you. You tried to jerk into a sitting position, but the young man pushed you back down.

"No," he simply said, "rest."

He made a good call. Your head was spinning. 

"What... Happened?"

He glanced at you. You noticed a bowl of what you recognized after a few moments as wolf hook berries, as well as a bowl full of what looked to be crushed up ones beside it. There was a rock stained with the juice sitting beside this bowl.

"You fall from tree. I save you from monsters."

"...Oh."

"How long was I out?"

"Hours."

The young man turned to the bowls behind him, then looked back at you.

"Your name?"

It took you a moment to realize what he was asking. 

"Oh. It's (Y/N). My name is (Y/N). What's yours?"

A beat of silence as he studied you.

"I am Razor."

Razor reached into the bowl of paste, smearing some of it onto your palm, which you didn't notice had been scraped up. It stung.

"Medicine. Will help you heal."

You'd heard about the medicinal properties of wolf hook berries from Barbara at the cathedral before, so you didn't doubt that Razor was doing this to help.

"Thank you," you said, shifting, "for helping me. I should go, though—"

"No!"

You started at the sudden volume of his shout. "No?"

Razor looked sheepish, his voice quieting. "You rest. You are hurt."

You relaxed back into the pelts, sighing. "Okay. I'll rest. But I have to go when the rain stops."

Razor shook his head. "Your ankle is hurt."

You moved both your ankles, met with a painful stiffness in your left one. Razor was right. It was most likely sprained. It would be hard to get back to Mondstadt like that, and it was a beyond stupid idea to try and get anywhere in this rain, let alone on an injury.

A massive grey wolf suddenly entered the cave, startling you. It was carrying something in its mouth. You recognized it. 

"My basket!"

The wolf walked over to you, setting the basket down beside you, then promptly turned and left. Another smaller wolf entered a few minutes later carrying what looked to be the leg of a small animal. 

Razor took the leg from the wolf, and then turned so his back was to you, working with his hands. He then dropped the meat into a pot you hadn't noticed was over the fire.

"You don't eat it raw?" You asked, and Razor shook his head.

"No. Makes me sick. Heat helps."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," you said, "humans can digest raw meat, but we can also get sick from it. Cooking it makes it easier to eat and gives more nutrients."

Razor stared at you for a moment, something almost like awe sparkling in his eyes. It was a little endearing. You smiled.

Was this guy... raised by wolves?

He certainly looked the part.

His body was toned and covered in scars. He looked wild. 

"Sleep," he said, "I will wake you to eat."

You were tired. You rolled onto your side, realizing for the first time that you'd been stripped down to your underclothes, left in your blouse and the cotton skirt you'd been wearing underneath the woolen one.  Your shoes were gone, so were your socks. You spotted said articles of clothing on a rock, presumably drying. 

"I shouldn't," you said, "I might have a concussion."

He tilted his head curiously.

You tried to think of a way to explain what that was. You didn't think that Razor was dumb, far from it. He'd successfully treated your wounds and figured out how to cook without much outside interference it seemed. If anything, Razor was very intelligent. 

You sighed. "It's something that can occur if you hit your head really hard."

Recognition dawned on his face. "Oh. I think I know."

"Know?"

Razor nodded. "Yes. Has happened to me. I fall into hole. A red man helped me."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Red man?

"Someone from Mondstadt?"

"Do not know."

You ran through a mental list of any men that fit the description of 'red,' but Diluc was the only one who came to mind, so you settled on him.

"I need to stay awake, just until the dizziness passes," you said. 

Razor simply nodded, turning back to the fire, and you relaxed against the pelts beneath your body. 

You tried propping yourself up a few times to check and see if the dizziness had gone, and when it did, you fell asleep fast. 

You faded in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waking only when Razor shook you in order to feed you. You ate greedily, not realizing how hungry you were until the tender meat was gone. After eating, you fell asleep again.

You awoke fully in the morning, and you rolled over to find Razor sound asleep beside you. The wolf that had been beside you before was now gone. The rain had stopped, leaving behind that musty smell that rain left behind. 

"(Y/N)!"

You started. That sounded familiar, even if the voice was far away. You propped yourself up on your hands, wincing at the remaining tenderness of the scrapes. They could have gotten infected if not for Razor, and you were thankful for his help.

The voice called out again, and you realized with a start who it belonged to. Amber.

Was there a search party?

You put a hand on Razor's shoulder, about to shake him awake, but when you looked down, his eyes were already open.

"Who is it?"

You smiled. "Amber. She's an Outrider for the Knights of Favonius. Someone must have come to the knights to tell them I was missing."

"You were... missing?"

"Yeah," you said, "I got lost."

You cupped your hands around your mouth. "Amber! In here!"

A beat of silence, then the sound of distant running footsteps getting closer. Amber appeared at the mouth of the cave, relief washing over her face as she hesitated before entering the cave.

"Razor," she said, "can I come in?"

Razor nodded. "Red girl is friend."

Amber walked towards you at a hurried clip. "What happened?"

You smiled. "I got attacked by hilichurls as the storm started and Razor rescued me. Wait, you two know each other?"

"Yep!" Amber said, "as an outrider, I know everyone in the Mondstadt region, including those in Wolvendom. You were in good hands."

"Razor helps friends," Razor said, matter-of-factly. 

"Thank you for helping her, Razor. I'll take her home."

Amber helped you get redressed, and it felt good to have the comforting weight of your sword on your back again. 

As you began to walk, supported by Amber's shoulder, you turned back to Razor. 

"I'll come back to visit. I'll bake you a pie."

Razor seemed to like the prospect of you coming back. 

"Visit again, friend!"

You smiled.

After getting back onto the main path, Amber spoke. 

"You really need to be more careful, (Y/N)," she said, "we were all so worried! What were you thinking?"

You chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry. I wanted to find an alternate path to find more berries. I got lost. I couldn't have predicted that a storm would roll in. The Anemo Archon was not on my side."

"Yeah," Amber said with a note of bitterness, "he's finicky like that."

You snickered. "You say that like you know him."

Amber simply laughed. 

You looked down at the basket in your free hand, noticing that not all of the berries inside had been lost. It looked to be just enough for one pie. 

You watched as the first few buildings of Springvale came into view, making a mental map of the area in your head. You'd have to write down the location of the cave when you got home. You'd be seeing Razor again soon, this time bearing gifts instead of injury. Sara's pie would have to wait. After all, she did have access to the most delicious pies in Mondstadt, what with working at Good Hunter and all.

You had a feeling this was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. 

You just hoped he liked berry pie.

[gotnofucks]

Colour Me Red

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your boss is chasing you like the proverbial hound of hell, and one vibrant shade of red is going to be his undoing, and yours.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex, allusions to smut, suggestive talking, kinda workplace harassment but not really, boss and employee relationship, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is for my jaan Lexi’s 700 Challenge. Congratulations baby girl @bluemusickid​ , you deserve this and so so much more. Every day I live in awe of you and can only love you more. I’ve chosen the colour Red for this challenge.

Most people arrived at work early to impress their boss. You came early to avoid yours. Every morning was a race to dress up faster so that you could be out before he pulled up at your place to give you a ride. When you’d started working at the Avengers Compound, you thought your biggest problem would be alien attacks or spontaneous combustion. Yet, here you were, being pursued by your boss who was the very embodiment of the hounds of hell.

Captain Steve Rogers, for all his brilliance, was a man unaccustomed to being told no. At one word from him, agents would run in the field and fight a battle of their lives. He was respected and revered, his beautiful visage both an endearing and terrifying symbol. However, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone.

The first time you’d met him, Steve had taken one look at you and said, “I am going to fuck you”. You had gaped at him in disbelief, wondering if this was the true Captain America. You had almost gone back home, intent on finding another job but you needed the money and well, there were so many others around, how often would your paths cross with him?

Turns out, a lot. You had applied for the PR secretary position for Natasha, so imagine your surprise when you showed up for work and were told that you’ll be working for Steve Rogers. In retrospect, you should have quit that day, but the pay was far too good. You had ignored sleazy men before, how difficult could it be to ignore Steve’s advances?

From the very first day, Steve didn’t bother to hide his interest. He offered you a seat in his office, but only after you pointedly ignored his offer to sit on his lap. He had rolled his eyes playfully, explaining your role and duties before dismissing you.

“Walk slow, I want to have a good view of that ass.”

Months later now, you could say it was a well-versed routine. He would flirt with you and you’d kindly remind him about appropriate workplace practices. He would bring you flowers, and you’d pass it on to the old lady who sat behind the reception. You almost wanted to thank him, for it was because of him you’d become a pro at running in high heels.

Arranging your documents, you waited for Steve to arrive. He won’t be happy knowing he has a press conference today. You’d typed out his speech, he only needed to say it into the camera without looking constipated.

“You evaded me again today.” Steve greeted you, entering and taking his seat behind his desk. You met his eyes, unimpressed. He never gave up, did he?

“Good morning Captain Rogers.” You said with a smile, handing him the papers that he took with a wince.

“You don’t call me Captain Rogers in my dreams.” He casually said, going over the planned interview. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him the best you could. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find Steve attractive, but you were not about to sleep with your boss.

“Can you please stick to the script this time and not call the government a piece of shit organization who are greedy, racist, bigots?” You asked, not wanting another disaster management situation on your hands.

“Spot me the lie darling.” Steve said, smiling. He threw the papers on the desk, leaning back to look at you with a fond look in his eyes. “You need to let me drive you here someday. Or I’m gonna camp outside your house so you can’t run away.”

You flush, averting your gaze. God, why did he need to be so beautiful with such gorgeous eyes?

“Can you give it a rest until the press conference? I have a lot on my hands.” You said, rubbing your temples tiredly. Steve frowned, his eyes lingering over the dark circles under your eyes before getting up and coming around the desk to stand behind you, his large hands gently taking your shoulders and kneading. A soft moan escaped you, your bunched muscles relaxing under his touch.

You leaned back farther, your head meeting his firm stomach. His fingers splayed over your collarbones, heal of the hand pressing into the soft juncture where your neck met the shoulder. Groaning, you relaxed yourself, letting Steve massage the stiffness out of your body. Slowly, he leaned down, mouth right next to your ear.

“Imagine the kind of sounds you’ll make when you’re under me.” He breathed, pressing the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes widened and you shot up, putting some distance between you. Steve grinned, taking in your labored breath with interest.

“Captain Rogers” You warned, taking a step back when he took one towards you.

“Say my name.” He demanded, walking purposely towards you until you crashed against the wall. Leisurely closing the distance between you both, he caged you with his hands, leaning in close. You gulped as he got into your space, his breath fanning over your heated cheeks and eyes turning liquid.

“This is inappropriate.” You said, blinking and looking away. You were scared his super senses would smell the arousal pooling between your thighs, warming your core. Steve chuckled, dipping his head as if to kiss you but stopping short.

“I’ll let it go today, since you’ll be screaming it soon enough. Why don’t you go and edit the speech, hmm? I want that part about thanking the government for their cooperation struck.” He smelled like sin, the musky aftershave he always wore clinging to your pores and infusing in your scent.

Smiling a little at the deer caught in the headlights look in your eyes, Steve pushed away from you and flicked your forehead playfully. He turned and walked back to his desk, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as your stumbled out of his office after hastily collecting your papers. Every time you thought you’d gotten used to his advances, Steve would reduce you to a bundle of nerves with a few well chosen words.

Persistent little fucker.

If he didn’t show up in five more minutes, you’ll have a coronary. The reporters were already waiting for him, and you still needed to debrief Steve about the changes you had made. Left to his own devices, he’d unapologetically curse the government out and call out their crap with Bucky and Sam cheering from the sidelines. Again. That had been a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Jacob asked. He looked frazzled, looking worriedly at Tony from across the room. His boss was just as likely as yours to cause a scandal during a press conference and when they sat together, a shit storm was definitely on its way.

“I have no fucking idea!” You swore, running a hand through your hair and hoping your makeup hadn’t run off. You’d be sitting at the podium beside Steve, ready to kick his shin at the first moment he went off script. Jacob shot you a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, his hairline glittering with sweat.

“One day I’ll quit this job and be a professional troll just to roast these assholes. Oh god, where the hell is he?” You bemoaned.

“Right here.”

You turn around, finding Steve striding towards you. The frustration in your eyes melted as you looked him over, the crisp navy blue suit fitting his body in a way that saliva pooled under your tongue. Shaking your head, you wagged a finger at him, trying your best to give him an angry frown instead of fuck me eyes.

“You’re the reason I’ll get greys so early in my life.” You scolded. Steve, however, lost his smirk. His eyes were trained hard on you, eyebrows turning in as if deeply disappointed. When his eyes met yours, you unconsciously stepped back and stumbled into Jacob. You knew Steve had a temper, but that anger had never been directed so harshly at you before.

“What the fuck?” He hissed from between clenched teeth. You blinked in surprise, completely at a loss of words about why he was suddenly so angry. You exchanged a bemused look with Jacob who was inching away from you, eager to be out of sight of the fire that was so obviously burning in the captain’s eyes.

Gulping nervously, you peered at him and cleared your throat. “Captain Rogers?” Your voice was soft and confused, and yet it only seemed to incense Steve more. He made a deep rumbling sound in his chest before grabbing you by your arm and pulling you away with him. You protested, trying to steer him back towards the conference but you were no match for his strength. He remained silent as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm, alarm evident in your voice at this unexpected aggression.

He brough you back to his office, pushing you in before he shut the door with a loud bang that would be sure to scare off anyone who might have wanted to step in and save you. Facing him in bewilderment, you opened your mouth to ask him what the fuck had gotten into him when he raised a hand in warning.

“If I hear ‘Captain Rogers’ pass one more time from your lips, I’ll shut you up in a way that will leave your throat sore for days.” He growled. Your breath hitched, fear and thrill spreading like venom through your blood as he prowled towards you, completely masculine and yet feline in his approach. Your legs refused to follow your command to move away and stayed rooted to their spot, trembling when Steve was standing right before you.

“Say my name.” He whispered. You licked your lips, eyes locked with his as his name passed your lips for the first time ever.

“Steve”

It was barely audible and yet you could see the shiver that ran down Steve’s body, a victorious growl expelled from his throat and suddenly you were pulled flush to his chest, his lips enveloping yours and branding a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders to keep steady on your legs that had turned to jelly.

“You dare,” Steve said, pulling away to glare at you, “you dare wear that shade of sin on your mouth in front of the world?”

It took you a moment, brain still in shock from the intimate embrace you’d just came out from when you registered what he said. Taking in his words along with the red that bled from your mouth to his, you sputtered in indignation.

“Did you drag me in here because I wore a red lipstick?!” You asked, slapping his chest to push him away. Steve, unhappy with your ire, pulled you closer still and slowly traced the curve of your bottom lip, pulling back his thumb to show you your lipstick that sat in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“My girl doesn’t go out looking like this in front of the world.” He countered. You scowled, twisting in his hold so you could knock some sense into the sexist bastard.

“I won’t be policed by somebody who regularly wear three sizes too small t-shirts to fuck with my ovulation cycle deliberately. And what the fuck does it mean ‘looking like this’? What do I look like to you Captain Rogers?” You sassed, breathing heavily.

Steve fisted your chair, tilting your head back as he possessively ran his nose down your neck and sniffed appetitively. “Looking like this, like the forbidden fruit that caused man to fall. You are already my undoing, do you wish to cause a war looking as tempting as this?”

Anger that had boiled in your gut disappeared as if doused by water. Maybe you were still pissed at being treated this way, but the heat that simmered deep in your bones overpowered it. His words set your heart on fire, a raging desire you rarely let yourself feel near him sending you straight into his arms, your head buried in his massive chest that cradled you close. Oh so close.

“There are ten different things I have to say to you about what just happened here, but I’ll do it later when my sanity has returned to me.” You said and Steve chuckled, his arms around you strong like boulders.

“If my kisses alone drove you insane, you’ll be a puddle of dumb mess after I’m done with you.” He huskily whispered in your ear and your core pulsed, a warm gush flooding your panties. This man would be the death of you. For months you’d fought the urge to let him fuck you on his desk and in the elevator, trying your best to overlook this eye fucks and flirting only to end up in his arms, right where he had prophesized you belong the moment he clapped eyes on you.

You didn’t believe in destiny, but then again Steve Rogers didn’t need a divine force to interfere on his behalf to get him what he wants. This moment had been building for a while now, like a volcano threatening to erupt until it finally did, encasing those close to it in scalding layers of passion and sin and love.

“I love this shade but just this once, I’ll make an exception. I’ll wipe it off.” You conceded. This was not you accepting defeat, just a compromise. There was much left to talk about and discuss, but you had a hoard of reporters waiting for the good captain to make his big speech.

You reached for the napkins on his desk, intent in quickly wiping your lipstick off when Steve grabbed you to himself again, cupping your face.

“Oh no honey, that trace of desire won’t stain a piece of paper. The only place its going to be is smeared on my cock. On your knees.” He ordered, very much like he did on the field. And yet, the order was as much a request. You could say no and drag him to the conference right now with no consequences. He was the same man who came by every morning to give you a ride despite knowing you’d already have left. He was the same man who cheekily rolled his eyes when you snubbed his affections, and yet never said a mean word to you. What would it feel like, marking this exemplary man with your colour, knowing as he walked that he was coloured in you?

You sank to the floor, hands already working to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Steve looked at you, letting you do everything, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Peering up at him, you marveled at the fact that it took so long to have you here like this.

“You could launch a thousand ships even on your knees.” He said.

Your lips pressed against the head of his cock, kissing him delicately. Steve jerked at the first touch, digging his fingers in your flesh when you licked him from head to base, suckling lightly, teasingly. You adored the noises that escaped him, loving that he didn’t even think of hiding them from you. When it came to desire, Steve Rogers didn’t mince his words.

His cock was beautiful, silken and hard in your fist and on your tongue. He tasted like the sea after a storm, salty and electric, dangerous and beautiful. Loving him this way came easy, and though you hadn’t had much experience with cocks as big as his, you were determined to show him your feelings with a gusto. Running your tongue along his slit with an impish grin, you swallowed him deep, humming to send vibrations up his length. Had your mouth not been stretched around him, you would have smiled wide at the curse he just yelled.

Picking up your pace, you bobbed your head and rolled his balls, getting high on his taste and sounds as he came undone in your mouth, spilling his essence that went thickly down your throat and ended with a moan from both of you. Pulling away, you saw his member streaked with the red traces of your lipstick and an animalistic possessiveness swelled in your chest. You marked him.

Steve helped you stand up, kissing you deep as he seemed unable to utter anything at the moment. You reveled in his touch, holding him close and wiping the stray tear that was lingering at the corner of your eye.

“You know its love, don’t you?” He asked you softly, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

Was this love? Was it love when you’d secretly smile at his fixation with you? Was it love that you always kept a flower from his bouquets before passing it on to the old lady? Was it love when you could read his tiredness in the lines of his forehead and make his coffee stronger? Maybe it was. Maybe it was love because there was no other way you’d have went on your knees to worship a man. Unknowingly, in accepting every ‘no’ you threw his way, he had earned your ‘yes’. In forsaking the access to your body, you had gifted him your heart. Holding his gaze, you pressed your lips to his palm, smiling.

“It is love.”

“Mr. Stark, where is Captain Rogers?” A reporter asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of this conference?”

Jacob groaned, kicking Tony’s shin repeatedly to no avail. He wished he could slap a hand on his boss’s mouth and drag him away, because the glint in Tony’s eyes meant that he would be working damage control for the next coming weeks.

“Rogers, you ask?” Tony said grinning, his face alight in mischief. “Friday just gave me some million dollar worth information on that, and I am proud to announce to the public that the world’s oldest virgin just got his dick wet.”

Banging his head on the desk in the view of the clambering reporters, Jacob cursed you and your libido that had ruined him.

“Why couldn’t they wait until after the conference?” He moaned, jumping out and almost tackling Tony who was about to give the media some ‘video proof’. “Oh no you don’t Mr. Stark, you sir are on time out. I’ll be reporting you to Miss Potts!”