#my tags are ingrained in my muscle memory

[roseghoul26]

König x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After a long day, König offers some much-needed “stress relief”. Tags: Title From A Sabrina Carpenter Song, Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter, Edging, Not Beta Read, Fem Pronouns For Reader, Bit Of A Size Kink, Porn No Plot, Vibrators, Fingering, Cunnilingus, König Lifts His Mask The Tiniest Amount To Eat You Out, Scar Kink(?), Is That Even A Thing, Doggystyle, Safe Sex, German Is A Fun Language, Kissing, Cuddling Author's Note: My four-and-a-half years of German classes are finally coming into use (but I’m nowhere near fluent, so correct my mistakes lol). Also contains descriptions of what I imagine König to look like. Everyone is free to their own interpretation. Also I'm like a year too late for this but whatever lol and this one is just pure porn guys, so... do with that what you will Explicit content, minors DNI

You felt ridiculous. 

Desperate. Anxious. Ridiculous.

Pacing across your small room didn’t help, your frenzied state unending. Anxiety hammered your heart, your stomach twisted in knots, and your hands ached from tensing them so much. Your breathing wasn’t much better, coming and going in quick huffs of air; you felt like you were going to pass out. 

You were a goddamn soldier, a ruthless mercenary; you shouldn’t be acting this way. You’d faced down the worst of humanity and came out victorious; the idea of König coming to your room shouldn’t render you so… timid. 

You’re not sure why you took König up on his offer for “stress relief”. He’d seen how tense you were all day around the base, the reason for that feeling long since forgotten, your words clipped, muscles tensed. It wasn’t an unusual emotion for you, but he’d never offered his assistance. 

Until today. You weren’t quite sure what changed.

A shiver went down your spine when you remembered his voice as he whispered, large frame pressed up close against yours, but not close enough to touch. “Let me help you, Schatz,” he’d said, and you were certain if you could see his face, there’d be a smirk on his lips. You wondered if he knew how you felt about him. 

Desperate to be rid of the tension in your body, and desperate for him, you’d agreed. It wasn’t until you’d reached your room that it sunk in, what you’d agreed to. It wasn’t that you regretted it, far from it, but now your stress levels were even higher than they were before. 

You wouldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped that something like this would happen. You’d had the biggest crush, which sounded so juvenile for someone like you, on him since the moment you’d signed on with KorTac a few years ago. 

And how could you not? He was tall, almost intimidatingly so, with a broad build to match. And the muscles weren’t all for show, just as deadly with his body as he was with his weapons out on the field. You remember the first time you’d watched him take down someone with his hands, a memory that had ingrained itself into your dirtiest dreams. 

As for the rest of his appearance, you weren’t quite sure. He’d never taken off his “mask” (a shirt, you’d later come to find out) in front of you, even when on jobs together. You never pried, though, respecting his need for privacy. And besides, you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was the most stunning person you’d ever met. His eyes, baby blue, yet torturously haunted, were all that you needed to see to confirm that. After years of only seeing them, you’d gotten good at reading them like you would facial expressions. 

Too caught up in your thoughts, you nearly tripped as your foot caught on the edge of your bed, a small, dingy thing. A mix of a sigh and groan left you, as well as a soft curse as you shook your hurt foot. Glancing at the small LED clock beside your bed, the time read 9:26.

König hadn’t given you a time when you asked, only a teasing, “Tonight.” Which meant, that at any moment, you’d hear him knocking on your door.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe this was all a joke, a cruel one at that. Maybe he knew about your infatuation with him, and this was his response. Deep down, you knew König enough to know that he wouldn’t do something like that, but your anxiety-riddled brain couldn’t think rationally right now. 

Before disappointment could set in, there was a surprisingly gentle knock on the door. But to you, it sounded like two gunshots had just gone off in the room, your ears now ringing in response. 

A soft gasp left you, and you swore your heart stopped. Taking a second to take a deep breath, you fixed your hair as you walked to the door, suddenly worried about your appearance. Your hand shook as you grabbed the handle, time seemingly slowing as you opened the door.

There, just like he said he would be, was König, his body damn near filling the entire doorframe, the tiniest bits of light from the hallway sneaking in. He was dressed down, which made sense for the time of day, so it shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you to see his bare arms. He must’ve been feeling particularly cruel, to be wearing a tight, black short-sleeve shirt instead of his usual loose long-sleeves. His hands were shoved into the pockets of some black sweatpants, and it almost felt wrong to see him like this. 

And as his eyes widened the tiniest amount, you realized that he, too, had never seen you in loungewear. Wearing a tank top and some sleep shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way his gaze roamed over your body, setting your body alight. A part of you wondered if this was the first time he’d looked at you like this, or if your attraction hadn’t been as one-sided as you believed. 

You weren’t quite sure what to say; you both knew why he was here. So instead of making a fool of yourself by attempting to talk, you took a step back, wordlessly inviting König into your room. 

As he stepped in, you watched as his head moved around, taking in his surroundings. Your room wasn’t much, but it was a step up from the shared room you had when you first joined. There was a bed, a full size at most, the headboard pressed up against the wall, with standard-issue grey sheets. A nightstand sat beside it, with the LED clock, and a lamp that currently struggled to fight against the darkness of the night as it poured through the lame excuse of a window that resided at the top of the wall. A few other pieces of furniture, a dresser, a desk, and a shelf, were each in their respective spots, leaving not a lot of free room.

So, as König walked in, your room felt incredibly small, nearly suffocating. It didn’t help that every time you saw König your breathing turned labored, which wasn’t the best thing to happen to you out on the field. But your years of suppressing your desires had trained you well, able to put on an impression that you were unaffected. 

“Do you want this?”

You’d barely heard König, your heart thudding too loudly. He had turned to face you, hands still in his pockets, a casual stance. But his eyes told a different story, hooded with lust, and boring into you. 

Swallowing, you failed to notice the way his eyes zeroed in on the action. Nodding your head was the only thing you could do, never feeling so certain bout something in your life. But you were nervous. What if you disappointed him? What if this wrecked what relationship the two of you had? What if this was all still a joke?

You hadn't expected König to have moved so that he was right in front of you. Was he always this tall? Towering over you, you felt his fingers, free from their usual gloves, grasp your chin, forcing your eyes onto him. A strangled noise died in your throat at the action, but he felt it, and you watched his eyes crinkle in the corners. He was grinning. 

“Use your words, Schatz.” The endearment, although in a foreign language, made you melt. You weren’t entirely sure what it meant, even after hearing it before, but he said it so sweetly that you didn’t need to know what it meant to feel its effects. 

Your heart was fluttering now, your brain fighting between feeling anxious and exhilarated. König must’ve detected this inner battle of yours, something softening in his gaze. The hand holding your chin moved to your wrist, grabbing it loosely enough so that you could pull away if you wanted to, and he slowly pulled your hand up until it rested on his chest, palm flat against his left pec. 

Once the shock of touching him subsided, you were confused as he watched you expectantly. You went to try to speak but were subsequently silenced by König as he shook his head, pressing your hand down harder. It was then you could finally feel beneath your fingertips his heartbeat, much too fast for the casual stance he had earlier. 

He was just as nervous about this as you were.

He let go of your wrist once he saw you felt it, but you didn’t pull your hand away, quickly gaining confidence knowing you weren’t alone in your nerves. “I want this, König.” You were pleasantly surprised to find that your voice was steady, not even the tiniest bit hoarse. I’ve wanted this for a long time.

Pleased, you could also detect the tiniest bit of relief from him, uncertainty playing a part in his nervous behavior. But that was quickly washed away when his authoritative demeanor returned; you’re not sure why you expected anything else. In every room he walked into, he demanded respect, to be listened to. Followed. Obeyed. You just never thought that it carried into more intimate moments. 

You certainly weren’t complaining. Not when you could feel arousal pool in your gut, a pleasant warmth that flowed through your entire body. Not when every word he spoke made you shiver, his accent thick, voice pitched lower. And now that your nerves had died down, all that was left was excitement, which nearly made you just as jumpy. As he brought his masked face close to yours, you swore your breathing stopped; it almost felt like the anticipation you’d feel before a kiss.

But his destination wasn’t your lips, although his eyes did flick down to them momentarily. No, he stopped before they could connect, mask and all. Resting his head against yours, which took a bit of bending on his part, you felt two warm hands begin to trail down your body, starting right at your collarbones. 

You watched as his eyes trailed over your face, gauging your reaction. When he was met with nothing but desire and want, his touch grew more certain, yet he didn’t pick up the pace. His fingers continued to drag down your body until you wanted to push them down to where you wanted. Something told you that that wouldn’t go over well, but you had to admit you were curious to see what his reaction would be. 

You chose to just shift in his grasp instead of trying to force his touch lower, hoping he’d get the message. You knew he did when you heard him chuckle, a sound that always made you weak in the knees, now especially. “Patience.” 

You could detect the warning well enough, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to it. “Please, König.” You didn’t care if you were begging. All you could think about was how close he was to giving you what you wanted. 

Another chuckle left the Austrian, but this one sounded more cruel. “You are going to have a long night.”

Before you could even think about his words, he was effortlessly sweeping you off your feet, hands having found their way to the back of your thighs. Insticinvly, your legs wrapped around his body, but you knew he didn’t need the extra help, and you also knew that he wouldn’t drop you. With a surprised laugh, you hung on as König carried you over to the bed, eyes never once leaving your face like he was enraptured by it. 

Unfortunately, the walk to the bed was brief, and before you could get comfortable in his arms, he was depositing you onto the bed. So much for not dropping you. It didn’t hurt, no, more surprising than anything, the breath briefly getting knocked out of you. The cheaper bed groaned under the weight, rusty springs a godawful symphony of noises, but you paid them no mind. 

Hungry eyes watched you from the foot of the bed as you moved up towards the headboard, back resting against it. Once you were settled, König stalked over to the side of the bed, his movements nothing but predatory. Yet oddly enough, you felt safe. You both trusted each other enough to watch over the other while out on the field and so you felt that same trust here. Deep down, you knew that if you were to tell him to stop, he would, no questions asked. Yet you knew you probably wouldn’t need him to. 

But he didn’t sit down, rather moving to the nightstand beside you. Your dazed state quickly dissipated once he started rummaging inside of it, but you were too late to do anything. With burning cheeks, you watched as he pulled out a pink device, which looked comically small in his hands. 

You wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your hands and pray for your demise, yet you were stuck in place once his attention returned to you. You just knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face, and if you weren’t so mortified about him finding the toy, then you would’ve made some comment to wipe it right off. 

Finally, König sat beside you, the vibrator still in his hand. With his other, you felt his touch return to your calf, featherlight, and leisurely making its way to the waistband of your shorts. “You use this a lot?”

“König…” Your voice wasn’t as assertive as you’d have liked, coming out more as a breathy whine. 

“Answer my question.” His hand stopped moving, stopping right at your knee. No matter how you shifted or squirmed, he didn’t move.

With a deep sigh, you tried to ignore the embarrassment you felt when you nodded your head. You then remembered his words from earlier. “Yes,” was all you said, but that seemed to be enough for him, as he continued his ascent with his fingers.

But his tormenting wasn’t done there, as after a few seconds you heard him speak again. “What do you think about?” This question came quieter than the first like he was sharing a piece of gossip, not asking you to reveal your deepest fantasies. 

You. 

The word was on the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to say them, to admit to him. How you’d dreamed of moments like this. How you’d imagined him touching you, fucking you, devouring you. So much information was on the verge of being spilled, and you were scared of it happening, too many what-ifs floating in your brain to keep track. 

But any attempt of holding back your words disappeared when König’s hand retracted, and you found the words stuttering out of you, desperate to feel him again. “I think about you, König…” You nearly felt out of breath after, your chest heaving for air, your cheeks now on fire. 

König, much to your surprise, didn’t seem taken aback by your words. Instead, you watched as his eyes darkened even more, which seemed like an impossible feat. “I thought as much,” his voice sounded more like a growl, and you fought the urge to press your thighs together. “And what do I do, when you think of me?”

Now that the cat was out of the bag, you felt less embarrassed about speaking. You were further encouraged when his hand settled on your thigh, pulling lightly at the hem of your shorts. “I… I’ve thought of you using toys,” you glanced at his other hand briefly, “your fingers. Your mouth.” The last one came out more like a whisper; he’d have to take his mask off in order for the last one to be true, and you both knew he wasn’t doing that. 

By the time you had finished speaking, he had reached your waistband, fingers dipping beneath it to brush against your skin. He hummed like he was truly thinking deeply over your words. “In that order?” If it was meant to be teasing, you couldn’t tell. 

Words died in your throat as you struggled to speak, your newfound confidence nonexistent. König, thankfully, took some pity on you, realizing that this was all a bit much. “Would you like me to take care of you?”

That you were able to respond to. “Please.”

An appreciative groan reverberated through his broad chest. “Sehr gut.” You weren’t certain what he was saying, but the infliction sounded like a praise, and your body responded as it would if it had been spoken in a language you knew.

You expected him to continue speaking, so imagine your surprise when in one strong tug, he tore your shorts off your body, before throwing them somewhere in the room. You heard an audible gasp from him when he saw you were completely bare underneath, completely exposed to him. You watched his hands flex from where they hung in the air, momentarily taken aback, his restraint pulled tight. 

He recovered quickly, blue eyes obscured by black irises now staring at you. “No underwear?” It was a redundant question, yet he asked anyway, wanting you to admit to it. Sheepishly, you nodded, your reward being a low chuckle. “Gott, you are trying to kill me.”

That was the last thing he said before he was settling at the end of your bed, right where your feet sat. His unoccupied hand grabbed your ankle, pulling your legs apart so that he could settle between them. With both thighs resting on his shoulders, you could no longer close your legs, unless you wanted to suffocate the man between them. You doubt he would complain, though. 

His face was inches from your center, and you could feel the heat radiating from him with each breath he took. His eyes had left your face, now drinking in the sight before him, and you could tell he was pleased with what he saw. Quite pleased, if the groan he let out told you anything. 

“So wet already,” he murmured as if he was surprised. You had little time to feel any sort of embarrassment, before two wide fingers ran through your folds, collecting the arousal there. You watched, then, as he brought his fingers below his mask, and you were able to fill in the details as his eyes fell shut with a hum of appreciation. 

Very much distracted, you’d momentarily forgotten about the device in his other hand until the unmistakable buzzing noise filled the air. Your breathing was labored as you waited for his next move, where he would touch you next. You, luckily, did not have to wait long to find out, as those two fingers returned, this time working to spread you open. His eyes finally shot up to yours, his desire evident, and there was an unspoken question in the gesture. More?

You would take all that he could give you, greedily. If he gave you scraps, you would take scraps with a thankful smile. If he gave you a goddamn meal, then you would savor every moment, every drop. With a shaky smile, you gave him a nod, not needing to use your words this time. 

The first graze of the toy over your clit made you jump, eliciting an amused shake of König’s head. “Relax, Schatz.”

And you tried. Taking a deep breath, you went through the breathing exercises you were taught when you first enlisted. Either it was thinking about the breathing exercises, or the exercises themselves, but you found yourself relaxing a bit, your muscles not as wound up as they once were. 

So when König once again pressed the vibrator against the bundle of nerves, you still jolted. Not out of shock, but because of the pleasure that action brought. And instead of pulling away like last time, he kept his hand in place, making you squirm. 

Soft whines and gasps of air were heard from you, hands fisting the sheets beside you. You wanted to hold on to him, but you were worried that once you grabbed on, you wouldn’t want to let go. “König…” you moaned, trying to express just how good he was making you feel. Every nerve in your body tingled, that unmistakable tightness growing in your abdomen. You weren’t close, but you didn’t think it would take long with how worked up you’d been waiting for him. 

The hand holding you open ascended, your back arching into his touch as he dragged his fingers over your stomach, your ribs, before encapsulating one of your breasts in a large, warm hand. “Du bist so schön,” he murmured, a glint of something in his eye. It quickly turned mischievous, though, when you just nodded along, his words meaning nothing to you. “Du hast keine Idee, was ich sage.”

When you neither confirmed nor denied his observation, he laughed, much to your confusion, but you were too caught up in your pleasure to care much. “Oh, Schatz.” It almost sounded patronizing, something that shouldn’t have gotten you as worked up as it did. Another plea of his name tore from your lips, the pressure in you building and building. 

Glancing down between your legs, you were surprised to find his eyes already on you. A squeeze of his hand had you keening, König making a noise that almost seemed proud. “So responsive. Nur für mich.”

What could you do besides nod? Even if you could understand him, you doubted you’d be able to process his words. And besides, hearing him speak his native tongue was always a treat, so hearing him like this was melting you, another thing setting your body alight. Your thighs were beginning to shake, something that did not go unnoticed by the man between them. 

“König… fuck, just a lil’ more…” You failed to see the plan he was formulating, your eyes screwed shut as pleasure overtook you. That tension was becoming unbearable now, and just on the verge of snapping. Your hips rocked and twisted, your fingers cramping with how hard you were gripping the sheets. You were on the edge, just teetering. All you needed was a little push, and-

The sound of silence was deafening as König turned the toy off, setting it on the bed beside you. Your eyes flew open, nowhere near expecting him to pull away just as you were about to cum. It would’ve been embarrassing, the frustrated noise you let out, but all you could think and feel was your waning orgasm. You went to try and finish yourself, but a strong hand caught your wrist before you could move. 

“König…” you warned, pleaded. Like sand, you could feel your release escaping through your fingers. “Y-You said you would help me relax.”

“You are distracted, nein?” 

It was true, your mind was far from the stresses of the day. But a new stress was building, one that was being caused by him. “König-”

“Lay back down.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d sat up, and with a sigh, you sunk back against the pillows, hoping he didn’t see the way your cheeks darkened at the way he commanded you. You could feel yourself continue to come down from that delicious high, body still strung tight like a string on a violin. König played you so well, that you doubted it would take long for you to reach that precipice again. But would he give you what you wanted, or continue to dangle it above your head, just out of reach? You both loved and hated the game he was playing, but your patience was bound to run out eventually. 

He settled in between your legs again, both hands empty this time. A few minutes passed, König lazily tracing his fingers across your bare legs and stomach, truly letting the embers of your previous orgasm burn out.

After what felt like an eternity, he began to drag his touch inward, making you gasp lightly. Like he did before, you felt him pass his fingers through you. The stimulation was almost too much, but it was the best thing you’d ever felt, a soft whine leaving you. That whine turned into a moan when he pressed a digit into you, aided by your arousal. 

He wasted no time in working his finger in and out of you, setting a slow yet intense pace. Your previous decision to not hold on to him quickly fell apart, desperately reaching down to him. There was a second of surprise before he gave you his other hand, your fingers immediately locking with his. It was a startling difference, the innocent gesture of handholding versus the way he was making you see stars with every crook of his fingers. 

His fingers were wide, much wider than yours, so the stretch burned when he added a second. He gave you a moment to adjust before moving, murmuring soft words of praise. “Gutes Mädchen,” he purred. “Gott, look at you, taking me so well.” Each word was enunciated with a thrust of his fingers, pulling noises from you you didn’t even know were possible. 

As amazing as his fingers felt, you need more. Wanted more. Glancing down at König, you gave him as wide eyes as you could, and he seemed to get the message. “You want more?” Upon your fervent nodding, he shook his head teasingly. “So greedy.”

For a moment, you were convinced that he wasn’t going to fulfill your request. That was until he pulled his hand away from yours, reaching for the base of his mask. Your heart damn near stopped when you realized what he was doing, and with a shocked gasp, you shut your eyes, unsure if he wanted you to see. 

You felt him pause, the rustling of fabric ceasing, before his voice rang out. “Look at me.” For the first time since you’d met him, you’d heard his voice clearly, not muffled by his mask. 

Cautiously, you opened your eyes, still partially convinced that this was a test of sorts. All of those worries disappeared when your eyes landed on him. His mask wasn’t fully off, not like you expected, and a part of you was relieved. You don’t think you were ready for that. 

Instead, it was pulled up just past his mouth, revealing most of his lower face, and any image you’d created of him in your mind was immediately forgotten, replaced with the sight in front of you. He had a wider jaw, with a decent amount of stubble adorning his cheeks. His lips were full, the top smaller than the bottom, and pulled into a small smile that made your stomach erupt into butterflies. He was, without a doubt, one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on, and this was only a part of his face.

But what stuck out to you the most, and would stick out to anyone who saw him, was the large scar that cut upwards on the right side of his upper lip, disappearing under the mask as it continued. The rest of the skin had healed together, except for on his lip, where, similar to a cleft lip but smaller, there was a gap, exposing a sharp canine. It was like his lip was turned up in a constant sneer.

You had no idea how he got that scar, and knowing the job you both did, it was probably quite traumatic. But the scar, alongside the rest of him, had desire churning so strongly in your gut that you nearly felt ill. It felt almost too good to be true, yet here he was, in between your legs, staring at you like you were the best thing on this forsaken planet, his hips grinding against the bed as he pleasured you. 

“Hallo, Schatz.” You were entranced by the way his lips moved as he spoke, and he noticed it, a cocky grin now on display. God, the effect that smirk had on you was immediate, his smugness immeasurable when he felt your body react on his fingers. “You know how to make a man feel good.”

You managed to roll your eyes, not wanting to bolster his ego that much, making König laugh in response. But his playful mood was quickly replaced by one of pure desire, moving forward until you could feel his warm breath hit your center. His fingers had resumed their motions, that tension once again building in your abdomen. It felt stronger this time like your body was punishing you for not allowing the tension to release last time. 

Not once did his eyes break away from yours, not even as his tongue flicked out to taste you, and you could feel his smile, never once dropping. He did it again, this time nudging your over-sensitive clit, making your hips buck. Letting his mask fall on your body to keep it held up, his now free hand splayed across your lower abdomen, keeping you in place, unable to escape the onslaught of pleasure. 

Even quicker than before, you found yourself careening toward that edge, your nails digging into König’s arm, likely leaving marks. His name replayed like a chant on your lips with each crook of his fingers, each flick of his tongue, every suck from his lips. You couldn’t see him any longer, your head thrown back against the pillows.

“König… please.” You almost didn’t want to tell him you were close, afraid of him taking your release away from you again. But you figured he didn’t need you to tell him to know, with the way your thighs shook and walls fluttered around his fingers. You felt him smirk again, a sense of dread washing over you at its implication. “Please, König… let me cum.”

Forcing your head back down, you watched as he considered your plea, and for a second, you thought you were in the clear. That was until he pulled his mouth away, his lower face glistening, that smirk still there, before the mask fell back down. His fingers pulled away next, groaning when he watched you clench around nothing.

Frustrated was nowhere close to how you felt, tears now prickling your eyes as yet another orgasm was withheld. The torture was delicious, yes, but you were going to lose it if you didn’t get to cum soon. You’d wanted this for so long, to fall apart under his ministrations, and you were tired of waiting. Your voice wavered as you whined his name, but there wasn’t anything either of you could do now, as you felt that almost high fade away again. 

With a defeated sigh, you let your head hit the pillows again, your legs sliding off König’s shoulders. You didn’t get to relax long, though, before his accented voice hit your ears again, unfortunately muffled. “Roll over.”

Without trying to hide your displeasure, you complied, glaring at him as you turned. You hoped he couldn’t tell how excited you actually were, fighting back an eager smile. He chuckled from behind you as you settled on your hands and knees, trailing off when he took in the sight before him. “I will ignore that attitude. This time.”

As you thought over the implications of this time, you felt König stand, followed by the sound of rustling fabric, as well as the crinkle of plastic. Something stirred in you at the fact that he came prepared, meaning he wanted this as much as you did. You’re not sure why you still believed he didn’t, but the reassurance was nice, to say the least. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you managed to catch a glimpse of him, the sight making you nearly snap your head back around. Nearly. He had shed his pants, his black shirt rising enough to reveal a pale, muscular abdomen, created from years of intense labor and exercise. He radiated power, and a part of you wondered if that translated into more intimate aspects like his authoritativeness had. Would he be rough with you? Or would he be more ginger, like his touch had been for most of the night; not gentle, but not on the verge of hurting?

You would take either way, as long as it was him doing it. 

“It is rude to stare.”

His tone was teasing, yet it still pulled you out of your shameless ogling. Caught red-handed, an almost sheepish smile appeared on your face. “You can’t blame me when you look like that. You’re a sight, König.”

For the first time that night, König seemed at a loss for words, staring at you like you’d grown a second head. If his mask was still pulled up, you figured you would see his lips struggling to form words, and, if you were lucky, a blush creeping up his face. It was a beautiful image in your mind, one that made you smile harder. 

Clearing his throat, König shook himself out of whatever daze he had been in, and you pocketed his weakness away for later. Checking you for any last-second hesitations, he let the rest of the clothing on his lower body fall away, effectively shifting the power back into his hands. And despite yourself, a small noise left you at the sight, further stroking his already massive ego. 

As to be expected for someone of his size, he was large, and painfully hard, if the hiss he let out told you anything. He was proportional to his hand as he took himself in it, stroking himself a few times, but you knew you’d struggle to hold him in yours. Just like the rest of his body, he was pale, with an almost purple tip that leaked precum. 

Turning your head back around before you lost your nerve, a few seconds passed before you felt the bed creak again, assumedly to put on the condom. One hand pressed between your shoulders, wordlessly pressing your face and chest into the bed. His other hand grabbed your hip, pulling your ass against him, another small noise leaving you when his cock pressed into you. You let him maneuver you as he wished, surprised with how much you were enjoying him taking the lead during this. 

“Ready?” His voice sounded relaxed, but the fingers digging into your hips told a different story. Still, the sincerity of his gesture made your heart thrum happily.

“Yes.” You’d never been more ready for something. 

A strangled moan tore from your lips as he pressed in, obscured by the mattresses your face was currently being pressed into. Tangling your fingers into the sheets around you, you could do nothing but take him as he sheathed his length into you, inch by inch. Time seemed to slow, your breathing ragged, when it wasn’t interrupted by noises of pleasure. 

The pain wasn’t as bad as you initially thought it would be, and for a moment you were thankful that König had worked you up so much. But that tension returned again, König still not fully in you yet. A whimper of his name had him stilling, an almost painful-sounding breath leaving him as he steadied himself, using every ounce of restraint to keep going slowly. 

The words tumbled out of you then, unable to stop yourself. “I-I can take it… please.”

“Scheiße.” The expletive was not unknown to you, nearly turning smug with the fact you made him lose control again. And just like before, he was quick to put you in your place, any comment dying on your lips when he bottomed out with a sharp thrust of his hips.

You swore you saw stars, unable to make any noise besides a soft oh. König, trusting that you were telling the truth, didn’t wait to give you time to adjust. He set a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping against yours with a slick noise. You could cum just from this alone, still so worked up, and König knew this.

The hands on your body shifted, wrapping around the front of your body and lifting you effortlessly until your back was pressed against his chest. He wasted no time tearing off your shirt, groping and toying with your breasts as he continued to thrust up into you. His voice was like gravel as he spoke, his covered mouth speaking right in your ear. “Du fühlst- Gott, mein Schatz.”

Even though your brain was hazed with lust, there was one thing that stuck out to you when he spoke. Never before had he added the word “mein” before calling you Schatz. You had no idea what it meant, but it certainly sounded like an English word you’d been dying to hear from his lips. Mine.

“Yours?” You knew you were probably connecting dots that didn’t exist, but the idea of being König’s was too appealing. 

König stuttered in his movements, an absolutely sinful moan being pulled from him, a sound that nearly pushed you over that edge. “Smart girl,” he spoke while regaining his breath. “Cum for me, mein Mädchen.”

That was all you needed, reaching your release the hardest you’d ever had in your life, the relief you felt immeasurable. Your head threw back to his shoulder, and because your eyes were screwed shut you couldn’t see the way he stared at you with awe. Every muscle tensed and then released, causing you to go slack in his arms, your nerves buzzing with pleasure. 

Your ears rang too loudly to hear him groan your name as he felt you cum, and a few more thrusts of his hips was all it took to reach his own end. The sensation of him spasming inside of you rode out your waves of pleasure until it became too much. König, thankfully, seemed to realize this, and he pulled out of you, then easing your limp body to the bed carefully. 

Completely blissed out, you didn’t feel as König got off the bed, nor know how much time passed before he returned. All you knew was that suddenly the blanket was torn out from under you, before covering your bare body.

Even though every muscle in your body didn’t want to work, you forced yourself to sit upright and watch the large man, who was currently in the process of getting redressed. “You’re not staying?” You didn’t try to hide the obvious disappointment in your words. 

König stilled at that, turning to face you slowly. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Of course.” The words came out so easily, so honestly, that you nearly startled yourself with your honesty. 

Something like relief sagged his broad shoulders, and before long he was back beside your bed. You let him lay down first, as he did take up more space, before settling yourself in the crook of his arm. Well, it was more like you were half lying on top of him to keep from falling off the bed, but neither of you were complaining. König certainly wasn’t, his eyes crinkling in a poorly concealed smile. 

A few moments passed in silence, simply savoring the afterglow and the feeling of being in each other’s arms. Then, “Are you relaxed now?”

You snorted at that, lifting your head to look at him, shaking your head lightly. Fondly. “I suppose I am,” you agreed. “Though I am gonna be sore tomorrow for… other reasons.”

It was König’s turn to laugh now, the sound lighter than you expected. “I hope you are not expecting me to apologize. You were the one who asked for it.” You merely shrugged your shoulders in response, knowing he was right, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of verbally admitting it. 

Every part of your body wanted to lay back down, but you had a different idea as you continued to observe König. He tracked every movement of your eyes, and you could see his brow furrow in confusion. Before he could say anything, though, you were speaking, so quietly you wondered if you had merely thought the words.

“Can I kiss you?”

And for the second time that night, König was at a loss, blinking at you like a deer in the headlights. But it seemed he’d already made up his mind, nodding lightly, the mask creasing with every movement of his head. 

Letting the blanket fall off you, you were quick to straddle his abdomen, eliciting a gasp from the Austrian. Tentatively, you let your fingers reach for the hem of the mask, scanning his eyes for any hesitations. When you were met with none, you flashed him a gracious smile, before pulling the cloth up right to his nose, not going further than he had before. 

His hands, which had fallen to his side, now ran up your thighs, before settling on your waist. Blue eyes danced across your face and your body, not able to decide which sight he liked better. You were quick to keep his attention on your mouth, though, as you planted one of your hands on his chest and leaned forward.

Taking your other hand, you let it trail up his neck before settling on his lower jaw, his stubble tickling your hand. He shuddered under your touch, lips parting in a soft gasp. Even with everything the two of you had done tonight, this felt the most intimate. 

When you pressed your lips against his, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged yours when he made another audible noise. A part of you wondered how long it had been since he’d been kissed, been touched this softly. If he’d let you, you’d remedy that. Gladly.

You kept the kiss short, but it promised more to come. Setting the mask back down, you pressed one last peck to his covered lips, unable to help yourself, before laying your head on his chest, keeping any comment about his fast heartbeat to yourself. “I hope you know I’ll be getting my revenge,” you said instead, hoping he didn’t realize it was just another way of saying you wanted this again. 

“I am looking forward to it, Schatz.”

Translations:

Schatz - treasure (term of endearment)

Sehr gut - very good

Gott - God

Du bist so schön - you are so beautiful

Du hast keine Idee, was ich sage - you have no idea what I am saying

Nur für mich - only for me

Nein - no

Gutes Mädchen - good girl

Scheiße - shit, fuck

Du fühlst- Gott, mein Schatz - you feel- God, my treasure

Mein Mädchen - my girl

[burningblake]

the gift of lost memories | by burningblake

Summary: 4x10 AU Tag. Jane did go on a date, instead of taking the ride with Teresa. Halfway through the evening, he realizes that replacing the CBI agent with another light-eyed brunette isn't going to help the attraction he feels for her.

Read: AO3 | FFnet

Excerpt:

Nothing makes sense, he thinks, as Tamara drains her third glass of wine, giggling endlessly at a joke he just made. Underneath the table, her bare calf slides across his thigh. He should be enjoying himself. This is his recipe for some good fun, followed to the last letter. And it's working. Yet he cannot shirk the feeling that he's wearing another man's skin, part of him constantly screaming in his head— Get me out of here! 

Nothing makes sense. 

Except for her. Somehow. 

Teresa. 

And that's terrifying for an unfathomable reason. A fear so stark it's ingrained into muscle memory, warning him to run away from whatever it is he feels when she traps him into those emerald eyes of hers. Whatever it is that has trained this kind of reaction to something so simple as attraction. His so-called tragedy.

"Patrick, are you listening to me?" Tamara's voice finally breaks into his consciousness. 

He grins. "Sorry, babe. I was just distracted by how well the red of your dress flatters your skin."

Another giggle.

Red. Why does that color suddenly make him feel like he's standing on the precipice of a great discovery? What does he know about red? Red: the color of passion, of great desire. The color of blood as well. Some eastern cultures use red wedding dresses as a sign of good luck or fertility. If you want to bed a woman, buy her red flowers. 

The memory palace is intact, her voice appears in his head, unbidden .

"Tell me more, I wanna hear more," his date purrs, her eyes glinting beneath a curtain of lashes. 

"Oh I could go on for the entire night, Teresa." 

He only realizes his slip after he sees the smile fade from his escort's lips. Crap.  

"It's Tamara," she politely corrects him. 

"Of course, Tamara—you must forgive me, I did almost die ." 

And she's back to laughing. Patrick takes a sip of his wine, a veiled attempt to calm down his nerves. 

It's lucky that the names are so similar. In fact, it's more than just the names in which the two women share similarities. Any professional mind-reader would read his choice for what it is, from Tamara's chestnut bangs to the light color of her eyes to the slightness of her build—a desperate effort to relieve himself of pent-up emotions accumulated throughout his time with Teresa. 

But of course, Tamara is nothing like the CBI agent. 

For one thing, she has dodged none of his flirtations so far. And for another, there is no honesty—or dignity, for that matter—in her eyes. And the fact that he's still thinking about Teresa means that he has utterly failed in that little plan of his to burn out his attraction for her via more conventional means. 

He drains his glass in sudden haste, gesturing at the waiter to bring the check. Tamara frowns with confusion. 

"Excuse me, my lovely lady. I just remembered something very important that I must do."

***

Funny how crime sleeps when she can't. She'd give anything to be dragged to a crime scene across the state right about now. Then again, she doesn't know how she will react to not meeting him there.

She sighs, grabs the remote and turns off the TV. It had seemed like a good idea to fill the silence with some comforting background noise, but The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is the last movie she needs to watch right now, and she does not care for a random reality show either. 

She switches off the light and turns to her side. If she doesn't sleep, at least her body and eyes will rest. That's something. 

Her phone buzzes, and she thinks— Of course. Of course, how didn't I think of it earlier? I had to taunt the criminals with just the threat of closing my eyes. But no, she reconsiders—If this was about the job, there would be a call. Not a message. She sits up, turns on the light again, and grabs her phone from the nightstand.

Are you sleeping? 

It takes her a moment to grasp the reality of having an actual text from him. She checks the time. 1.34 AM. If he's texting her from that woman's bed because he randomly craved some chit-chat, he's so going to regret it. But no —a sudden worry prickles her chest. This might be important. What if he… ? The question barely forms in her mind as her fingers blaze across her phone's keyboard. 

Not yet. What is it? 

The buzz of his answer comes almost immediately. 

I am kinda outside your apartment. 

Continue reading.

[argetcross]

Can I hear your thoughts on Guardians of Ga’Hoole??? I forgot that movie/those books existed until you mentioned it in your tags!

Of course! I only had the first book so that's the one that sticks with me the most. I think the scenes where they're resisting the moon sleep and learning how to fly were really ingrained in my memory. I was very concerned about brainwashing and also the themes of freedom versus cult indoctrination as a kid, haha. The bits where they really had to develop their flight muscles, that it was something they could be prevented from doing, really captured my imagination too. What does it mean when an owl is denied their ability to fly?

I think the later books had a lot of fantasy owl language (I remember using their curse words a lot) and I just loved the idea of a knightly order of owls. Everything from their silent flight to the way they cough up pellets of their undigested meals was definitely catnip for me as a kid.

[tarabyte3]

I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 24/27 (3.9k words)

-> start at chapter 1 <-

<- Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 ->

Summary: You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst, orgasm denial, humiliation, slut shaming, references to domestic abuse, discussion of domestic abuse, minor violence, discussion of violence, description of violence, come eating, discussion about sexual assault, allusion to sexual assault

A/N: Hello, friends. It has been many months, but here I am working on finishing this fic. I split what was originally going to be 1 chapter into 2 parts (it got really long, which was overwhelming 😅). So this chapter is a little shorter with no smut, but a week from today will be the rest of it and that will have PLENTY of smut. After not posting something in so long, I just wanted to get something published to stimulate the Kino center of my brain to inspire me to write more. That way I can get this finished sooner rather than later! Also PLEASE take note of the new tags. There is a discussion about hypothetical harassment and assault in this chapter, but no description or specifics are mentioned.

Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "Delicate Dream" by Shana Halligan.

AO3 Link

Chapter 24 - Well, you reap what you sow, and I know that you know what we have is a chance to get off while we can

"Okay, so tell us again exactly how you knew about the fucking floors. Because I'm still confused," Alis says as you both work the joint cylinder into place. He's clearly gotten over being angry at you at this point, which means he's circled back around to being chatty. Not that you're complaining.

"Yeah, I'm actually really curious about it as well." Taybus perks up across from the two of you. "Considering, well, you know…"

"Don't look at me! That was all Threl." You jerk your head in his direction.

Everyone peers over their work to eye Threl expectantly. Even Jevid gives him a bored look, which translates to downright curious when it comes to the grizzled, older man.

"It wasn't that difficult." Threl shrugs off all of your stares without even looking up.

"He's being modest. It was fucking brilliant," you say to the rest of the pod as you pick up your wrench. "Come on, tell them! If I do it, I'll just mess it up."

"Alright. If it will get you all back to work, then fine." Threl lets out a sigh of resignation. Then he straightens up, pulling himself to his full height—the muscle memory of Threl the engineer still ingrained within him, even years later on the other side of the galaxy. It gives you one more glimpse into what he must have been like before prison. "Look, you all know I used to build starships. The construction of the interior rooms and halls isn't that much different than the way they designed this place. Different function maybe, but I know how they think in terms of utility and cost. So when I look at the layout of this place and what kind of things made it into the final blueprints, I know what would have been scrapped to save time and money. You know?" 

"I absolutely do not know," Taybus laughs, "but keep talking and pretend I do."

"Okay. Everything from the layout of this room to the connecting bridges and the design of our cells was once a blueprint. The first draft was rough and bulky and contained a lot of extras. Probably amenities that would have made our lives a little better," he frowns at that last part, "but no one was going to approve it. They don't care about us and they want cheap, so every draft afterwards was more streamlined. They kept cutting and cutting until it was as basic and functional as you can make it without losing value."

"So they…cut more floors?" Taybus's face is scrunched in a nearly comical attempt at concentration.

"Don't hurt yourself, dude," you mutter. Alis chokes on a laugh next to you and coughs politely to cover it up.

Threl sighs through his nose and shakes his head in disappointment at you before turning his attention back to Taybus. "You're half right. Bare tunqstoid steel panels on the floor, easy to install. Reliable. You know exactly how much electricity they conduct and that they'll do exactly as intended. They're necessary to keep us in line. It's also expensive to cover every inch of this place. Not to mention the extra weight of the panels and structural support needed to compensate for it…that drives the bill up, too." Threl pauses so everyone can take a step back.

"Clear," Jevid grumbles. The center console comes to life as the next piece lifts to slot into place. You all move in unison, like a well rehearsed dance, to lift it so it can be rotated.

"Do you see bare panels up the walls? Or anywhere in the cells other than the floor?" Threl glances around the group, waiting for an answer.

"No," Sorrek responds quietly from across the table. There's a pensive look on his face and you can tell he's curious about where this explanation is going.

"That means, if they were there, they would be under the molded plastic where we can't see them."

"And they don't work under plastic?" Taybus hesitates before getting back to work.

"Correct!" Threl smiles widely at him. There's a hint of pride on his face as he glances over. "When you put plastic over metal, it's usually as an insulator. Because plastic doesn't conduct electricity…unless you mix the plastic with something that does conduct electricity during the molding process. Then the electric current travels along those particles instead. But doing that makes the parts more expensive. The current that can pass through the plastic also isn't as strong as the bare metal. That makes it unreliable. So you tell me what's more likely. That the Empire paid to have the walls and benches in every inch of this place lined with tunqstoid steel and a composite plastic of conductive filler or that they saved money by cutting those plans for the final blueprint and just wanted us to think they put them there?"

"They're definitely cheap. Hence," you add, "no panels or sensors in the benches."

Jevid and Sorrek exchange a look of shock. You wonder how many years both of them have been living with the acceptance of the lie. You also wonder what else about this place has been blindly accepted as truth.

As you glance around, you can't help but notice that the walls don't seem quite so oppressive anymore. Especially now that you understand on a much deeper level that that's all they are.

"Damn, Threl." Alis lets out a long whistle.

"See? Told you. Fucking brilliant." You give Threl a stare that says 'I told you so,' which he pointedly ignores.

"Wow dude. You're really smart." Taybus gapes at him.

"Yeah," Threl laughs as his posture finally relaxes back into the man you're more familiar with. "I know my way around this shit. I did it for over a decade."

"Wasted in here on this bullshit," you grumble.

"Don't disagree." He shrugs. "Unfortunately, when you start sabotaging the Empire's plans and they catch you, they don't just slap you on the wrist and let you keep your job. I'm lucky I didn't end up someplace worse than this."

"Well, I appreciate it a lot," Taybus says with a sincerity that makes him look almost sweet. Almost. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, kid." Threl puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a gentle shake. "Just enjoy it."

"You get laid?" You smirk at him.

"No." His cheeks redden, but it doesn't hinder the look of excitement that spreads across his face. "We finally made out, though!"

"Hell yeah, man!" Alis stands on his tiptoes as he reaches over the table to give Taybus a high-five.

"Congratulations!" You beam at him. "Nice, isn't it?"

"Yes." He ducks his head as he blushes some more, and a strand of hair comes loose from his ponytail to hang in his face. He tucks it behind his ear and breaks out into a goofy smile. "It's really nice. I get why you were so annoying now."

"Hey!" You protest, only mildly offended. It's not like you disagree.

"Were?" Alis pipes up next to you.

Scratch that. Now you're properly offended. "Oh, is this what we're doing now that we got the excitement about the floors out of the way?" You yank the soldering gun off of the table. "Picking on me?"

"You make it really easy, to be fair," Threl teases.

You let out a noise of disgust. "Fine. Go ahead. You can't hurt my feelings because I know Kino will just kiss them better later."

"Gross," Taybus mumbles. You smirk at him.

"Yeah, that's right." You lean in his direction and lower your voice. "Keep teasing and I'll talk about how good he is at it, too."

"I'm pretty sure most of us have heard already." Alis gives you a knowing look. Next to him, Sorrek shakes his head in disapproval—though whether it's directed at you or Alis, you're not sure—while Taybus and Threl snicker at your expense. "Besides, you think that will deter me? You're going to have to try harder than that."

"God, you're obnoxious. Why are we friends again?"

"I grow on people." He grins.

"Like a fungus, maybe," you mutter.

"Fungus is very useful, so thank you for the compliment." His grin widens to an intolerable degree.

You roll your eyes as you work the soldering gun on the joint. While you do, you're surprised to find that, despite how much you brushed it off, being teased about last night bothers you. Not on your own behalf, though.

On Kino's.

When you finish, you straighten back up and clear your throat.

"Listen, since Alis brought it up, I know all of you heard me last night and I want to apologize for it. Clearly we got complacent and weren't being as respectful as we should have been. I'm really sorry. It'll never happen again." You can feel your face burning with embarrassment as your expression turns sheepish. "I'm absolutely mortified. So you guys are welcome to tease me about it if you want. I deserve it, honestly. Just…do me one favor and please make sure he isn't nearby to accidentally overhear when you do. Alright?"

Jevid grunts, which you assume is an agreement, and Sorrek nods, also looking a little embarrassed at the memory. You can't imagine what shade of red he turned after it happened. You also can't imagine either of them—or Edii—doing the teasing. They aren't the ones you're worried about.

"No problem, kid." Threl says easily. And it's no surprise he would agree to something for Kino's benefit. Or yours, for that matter.

Next to him, Taybus makes a face. "Why? He overhears us teasing you all the time."

"Because," you shift your attention to the part as you get back to work, "this will actually upset him."

"What's the big deal? Is he embarrassed because people know you're having sex in your free time now?"

"It's a big deal because it's him." You say it as though that should be obvious.

"He's still gotta be the shift manager after this." Threl tries to explain when Taybus continues to look unconvinced.

"Do the managers take a vow of celibacy or what?" He scoffs.

"No, but there's an inherent power imbalance between him and her." There's the cranking of a wrench as Threl works through the conversation. "That's enough to get people focused on them more than, say, you and your boyfriend. No offense."

"Plus," you interject when you see Taybus opening his mouth to protest, "if people are gossiping about us, he'll think of it as a distraction. Distracted people work slower, get lower numbers, and make mistakes. Mistakes lead to injuries or worse. They draw attention. He'd rather they didn't think about us at all. We're all safer that way."

"And he's right," Jevid adds in his gruff voice. "The last thing you want in here is them keeping tabs." He jerks a crooked thumb up towards the viewing window for emphasis. "That's why Kino runs the floor the way he does. Good numbers mean they leave you alone."

"Besides, you all remember what Wem pulled. Not everyone is gonna politely gossip or chuckle about it. Some of them are definitely pissed." You shoot a dark glance over at Wem's table.

"Why would they be pissed?" Taybus follows your line of sight, but with less subtlety.

"Jealousy, do you remember?" Edii finally speaks up. "There are some who did not look happy for her last night."

"Let me guess," you sigh. "Table 4 again?"

He nods. "Most. I see others, too. A few."

"Jealous of what? Of Kino?" Then after another second of thought, Taybus nervously adds, "Of her??"

You choose to ignore his last comment. Because they should be jealous. Kino is a fucking catch.

"They think he plays favorites. That because of her, he favors our table best." Edii stares at Taybus with a hint of his old irritation, clearly bothered he has to spell it out. "They are also mad they do so poorly in their numbers, so they blame us because that is easier than accepting they work bad together."

"Okay, so they bitch about it. So what? I seriously don't understand what the big deal is." Taybus still looks confused and you know it's because, for him, it is that simple. He's still young. The world hasn't taken on as many shades of grey yet.

You toss your soldering gun down heavily on the table to get his full attention. When his head jerks in your direction, you give him a serious look—though you do your best to keep your tone patient despite the frustration.

"I'm gonna forgive the ignorance here, Taybus. I know you don't mean anything by it. It's easy to forget some things when we're over here bullshitting half the shift. But take a look around you and remember one really important detail. Something I have to keep in the back of my mind every moment of every day." Taybus glances around the floor while you continue talking. "I am one woman trapped in here with a bunch of men."

The rest of the table freezes. You watch them exchange uneasy looks out of the corner of your eye while Taybus processes what you mean.

"Now, I feel completely safe around you guys, and I'm lucky we're usually stuck together. I think some of the other guys out there seem like decent men, too. The shitty thing about being a woman or someone vulnerable is that thinking someone is decent doesn't always keep you safe. What if someday some asshole decides bitching isn't enough? What if they think that I, or Kino, need to be taught a lesson? Or they want to take out some frustration in a more active way, so they sneak back while I'm taking a shift break?" You let the implication hang in the air. Taybus's eyes finally go wide in realization and horror.

"Then one of us takes our break with you!" He protests.

"You know we can't, kid. It's one at a time from the tables so we don't get behind." Threl gives you a regretful look. Your face softens in appreciation. You know he's right, but you also know that he would do it in a heartbeat if he could.

"That's bullshit! Surely Kino would make an exception for her." Taybus jabs a thumb in your direction.

"Then he's seen as playing favorites for sure and that pisses them off further." You put a hand on your hip as you step back from the table. "Clear."

"If they touch you, I'll deal with them." Sorrek stares at you with that cold rage you've seen a few times now. The kind that sends an uneasy shiver up your neck. You know it isn't directed at you. That's not why. You worry for him and how he would feel afterwards if he did something he couldn't take back. Or if he got stuck in here longer, away from his wife. From his daughter.

"I know you would." You give him an affectionate, sad smile. "But that would just prevent it from happening a second time."

Sorrek's face falls, the dangerous threat immediately shifting into helplessness. Jevid shoos him away from the machine before he can protest. Or start tearing up.

"It's not just that. What if a group of them decides they don't have to listen or be respectful out of spite? Maybe they even do it on purpose to make it look like Kino can't control his men and isn't fit to lead because they want the guards to replace him as shift manager. Imagine having an asshole like Wem as a manager. Sure, Kino's a hardass, but he's fair and he's a good man. But someone cruel with the perks and the power of that position?" Not to mention the ability to keep the two of you apart out of spite, you think to yourself.

"Wait, they could really do that? Put someone else in charge of the floor?" Taybus is starting to look even more worried.

You turn to look at Sorrek, Jevid, and Threl with an eyebrow raised. "You guys have been here the longest. Could they?"

"They choose whenever a floor needs a new one. I guess it's possible." Sorrek answers carefully.

"They could." Jevid gives you a confident, hard stare. "Not only could they, it wouldn't be good for him either. Never seen it done, but they'd probably add more shifts to his sentence and he'd be back at a table."

Taybus stares at him in shock, as if he's waiting for Jevid to suddenly take it back. When he doesn't, he stares dejectedly down at the table. "Damn. That's all fucked." 

"It's all fucked indeed," you sigh.

"Okay. What should we do, then?" Taybus glances around at the rest of you for answers. "We keep an eye on her, obviously. Especially during breaks. Then we also…keep an eye out to help Kino so our lives aren't even more miserable?" Taybus's face scrunches in disgust. "God, never thought I'd say that."

Edii waves a dismissive hand at him. "I will keep an eye out on ones that look…what is the word? Suspicion?"

"Suspicious," Taybus mutters to him.

Edii continues on like he didn't hear him. "If they say or do anything, I will know."

You smile fondly at him. "Thank you, Edii."

"I was going to do so anyway. I keep a look out a lot of the time I have been in here already. Many people ignore me. I hear a lot." He turns to stare directly at you. "Incredible hearing." And then he nods seriously.

"You're damn right," you chuckle. "Sorry I ever thought it was a curse."

"It is alright. Makes people uncomfortable when they realize what I hear." He gives you a piercing, knowing look. You shift awkwardly in your spot as you remember that morning and all the filthy things you and Kino did and said to each other. You're confident no one else heard. You're now far less confident Edii didn't.

"Hey, wait!" Taybus perks up like he just remembered something. "I know Vage's table would be on our side. Table 1 is pretty cool."

"Oh, we drawing battle lines now?" Threl teases him.

"No!" Taybus protests. "Just, you know, in case."

Alis gives him an exaggerated wink and a nod of encouragement. Taybus gives him, what he thinks, is a subtle thumbs up in return.

"No, none of that," you gently scold both of them. "Look. I'm not saying any of that is going to happen, it's all just worst case scenario. I'm not saying someone will definitely try to corner me or harass me or hurt me. Or that suddenly me getting laid will turn into a riot. In fact, I'm not actually worried about any of it. All I'm saying is…" Your face softens with affection as you turn to look where Kino is standing on the other side of the room, bent over his tablet. He's frowning intently at something, and the way his forehead wrinkles and his lips pout in disapproval makes your heart flutter. "He is. There's a lot that could go wrong every single day and he's stressed about it. All the time. Because he thinks everything is his responsibility. I just don't want to remind him of what happened and add to that." You turn back to them with a pleading look. "Okay?"

"You love him very much." Edii gives you a rare, half smile.

Your cheeks burn hot and you look down at the table, embarrassed, because now the entire pod knows and is staring at you with various degrees of amusement and softness. It's almost too much attention, and it feels worse than when they all learned you were having sex. Because this is exposing your heart and laying bare your vulnerability, while sex is just sex. 'Which was also because of Edii,' you internally grumble. Okay, maybe his hearing is a bit of a curse.

"I do," you respond quietly.

Edii nods, as if he already knew the answer and you were simply confirming it for him. Then he returns to work, just like that. You do still admire his ability to readily accept something and move forward. However, you're less enthused about him bluntly supplying the table with updates about your love life. You wonder if that's just an Edii thing, or if it's a natural, open topic where he comes from.

"Fine, alright," Taybus relents with a huff. "I'll keep my mouth shut."

"I was never going to let him hear anyway, are you crazy? The man could probably toss me halfway across the room if he wanted." Alis shudders. "And if he heard me making fun of you, he would definitely want to."

"Oh, yeah, he would definitely want to." You grin wickedly at him. "And I promise, from experience, he probably could."

Taybus groans again.

The rest of your shift continues on with more teasing until they finally get bored with it. Partially because you threaten to supply them with more intimate details since they're clearly so interested in your love life. Alis is, of course, the last one to relent, but only after Sorrek has turned a concerning shade of red and looks dangerously close to tears.

Then they start badgering Taybus to tell them the plot to another one of Vage's holonovels. Not because Taybus is a particularly good storyteller—he'll frequently forget a detail and have to backtrack to fill in the blanks, making everyone else groan in frustration—but because it's something to pass the time.

And the easy camaraderie really does make the time go by faster rather than focusing solely on the work. As you talk and listen, your hands move automatically over the parts, expertly repeating the pattern almost as an afterthought. It would be easy to lose yourself in the rhythm.

You don't, though. You can't help but be aware of every passing hour. Nine.

You laugh at one of Alis's terrible jokes so hard your stomach hurts. Kino has to walk by the table to scold all of you and tell you to stop messing around and pick up the pace. You glance up at the clock. Eight.

Sorrek tells a story about one of his fights in a house so packed, the crowd ignored their seats to push and shove against the ring to get a better view of the main event. He was convinced the ropes were going to buckle under the pressure and that the match would be called when the crowd swarmed the ring. Jevid's heard this one before. Seven.

Threl once altered ship blueprints to include hallways that went nowhere and closed ventilation systems that cycled back into themselves rather than properly vent through the filters, which would cause a steady buildup of carbon monoxide. They caught the first one before construction began. They didn't catch the second one until afterwards, and whole sections had to be scrapped and rebuilt. "That's the trick," he says. "You distract them with one hand so the other can do more damage." You notice a look on Edii's face—a thoughtful concentration—and you wonder what he's thinking. Six.

One more down. Five now, and soon that will pass, too. You smile around your table.

One less hour until the end of your shift. One less hour in your sentence.

One less hour separating you from Kino.

A/N: As a reminder, the next chapter is coming out a week from today! And as a heads up: There are only 3 chapters left before the fic is over, so 27 chapters total. (I know 😭)

Also I have the most rudimentary understanding of how electricity works, so please do not @ me if I'm wrong because I simply don't care that much. What I do know is the floors in Narkina 5 shouldn't work at all, but they do because space magic. So anything I got wrong is clearly just more space magic 😂 I just wanted to take the opportunity to give more of Threl's backstory and show off how cool he is. He's from Naboo and he worked for Theed Engineering (for the other Star Wars nerds: they built Governor Tarkin's personal starship.)

NEXT CHAPTER->

[bullet-prooflove]

The North Star - Part Two: Case of the Ex - Terry Bruno x Reader

Welcome to mine and @the-hinky-panda The Bronx universe featuring our favs Terry Bruno & Mike Duarte.

This story takes place several years after 'Blood Out'. Terry still lives in the Bronx and works in Manhatten SVU.

Following on from @the-hinky-panda story 'The Dog' Mike has retired from the NYPD on medical grounds due to seizures causes by the attack. He has a therapy dog called Bono and lives with @the-hinky-panda character Meredith.

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @legit9thlunaticwarrior @bbyxoo @the-adzukibean @xoxabs88xox @crazy4chickennuggets @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu @anime-weeb-4-life

Part One: Moments

You make it over the threshold of your Squad Room with a few minutes to spare, the conversation from the car still playing in your head as you secure your weapon in the individualised gun locker and drop your lunch bag off in the kitchen. Your actions are mechanical, your body running on auto pilot because you’re struggling to process. There’s a disconnect in your brain between what you want and your prior experiences.

“It’s ok.” Terry had reassured you before you left the car. “I’m not mad, you’re not ready and that’s ok.”

It’s more complicated than that you wanted to tell him. It was an impulse ingrained into your psyche, a remnant of a trauma you had spent years trying to bury.

He turned in the driver’s seat to face you, his eyes meeting yours as he leaned in close. The scent of his aftershave was in your nose, lavender and sandalwood, it clung to his skin as his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek tenderly.

“It doesn’t change how I feel about you.” He told you with an honesty you felt in the very depths of your soul. “I can promise you that.”

You were in a haze of memories as you made your way to your desk, your thoughts ricocheting like bullets in your mind. Then and now, Paul and Terry, two different men. The past and the present. Sometimes in the dead of night you wake up in a cold sweat and you hear that laugh, that distinctive and hearty sound. It rebounds in your brain and it’s like you can hear it all over again, echoing in your ears.

You freeze, your muscles seizing because you are hearing that sound again, only it’s real and it’s coming from your workspace. There’s a small huddle of detectives lingering in the vicinity, they’re hanging on every word that emits from Detective Paul Russo’s mouth as he perches on the corner of your desk. You have to hand it to him it’s a power move, a way of claiming territory in an unfamiliar battleground. It’s just like Paul, a subtle way of trying to put you in your place. You didn’t see it back then but hindsight in a fine thing and you see it now. The same man, playing the same games, years later.

“Don’t you guys have cases to solve?” You said, breaking up the congregation. “Leads to follow up?”

The detectives scatter like school children caught out on the playground, heading in different directions. Only Paul remains. His blue eyes meet yours, they are clear and vivid, his pupils reactive and normal. He doesn’t flinch from your gaze; he knows what your seeking and he allows you to have it.

“I’ve been clean for over a year now.” He informed you, his gaze still on your face.

“Good for you.” You told him before dropping into your seat. “Now get your ass off my desk.”

He complied, slipping into the visitor’s chair instead. He was still in your proximity, not far enough away for you to be unaffected, it made your skin prickle and not in the good way. You removed the paperwork from your satchel before setting it down upon the surface of your desk, followed by your laptop.

There was a silence between the two of you, you let it hang, hoping he would get the message and disappear elsewhere.

“Aren’t you gonna ask what I’m doing here?”

“You are here to consult on my Robbery Homicide case.” You said, pressing the power button on your work laptop to bring it to life.

“That is the correct answer.” Paul informed you, clearly surprised. “But I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks Sarge.”

He pronounced the last word with an air of respect, praise rolling off his tongue. It felt like an ice pick being driven into your skull as you twisted your head towards him. His large hand reached out, covering yours momentarily, his thumb trailing over the gold stacking rings that graced your fingers.

“I’m proud of you.” he said quietly. “You said you’d do it, and you did.”

You remembered this version of Paul. Charming and alluring, gentle touches that lingered and a smile that seduced. How easy it had been to fall in the beginning, to get caught up in a man that seemed so handsome, so thrilling. It had been exciting, having all of his attention focused on you.

You withdrew your hand from his, dropping it into your lap because you remembered the other part too. The mania, the blown pupils and the red rimmed eyes, his excitable moods, his excruciating lows. The nights you’d wake up alone, because he was out God knows where, doing God knows what with God knows who.

“Detective Sinclair will take you through the case.” You told him, indicating to the workspace across from yours. “I have to be in court in an hour.”

His elbow came to rest on the corner of your desk as he leaned in close. He was clean shaven these days, his chiselled cheek bones no longer as gaunt as you remembered. Flecks of auburn shone in his hair from the fluorescent lights from above, and you wondered how many women he had corrupted since you. How many more notches lined his bedpost. The scent of his cologne was in your nostrils. It was one of the Ralph Laurens, something with bergamot and sage. It tasted bitter on your tongue.

“We’re going out tonight.” He told you, those bold eyes meeting yours as his voice lowered just an octave. “You, me, that place we used to like. We can see where the night takes us.”

His tone was dark and full of promise. It reminded you of the beginning, slow fingers drawing down the zipper of a little black dress. Fabric falling to the floor as that hot mouth plundered yours. It had happened quickly, your descent into madness and it ended in a storm of agony, blood and broken glass.

“I’m seeing someone.” You informed him, your eyes fixed on his.

“Oh Darlin...” He tutted, the edges of his mouth twitching up into a small smile. “He can’t do the things that I do for you…”

“No.” You said softly. “He does it better.”

It was a low blow, but it was worth it to see the devastation on those handsome features of his. For a moment he looks crestfallen, and you drink it in like a fine wine because what he is feeling right now is just a sliver of the pain, he’s caused you. The scars are still etched into your skin, they play out in your nightmares and invade your thoughts, stealing away your hopes and dreams because you can’t stand to lose yourself like that again. You won’t. What happened between the two of you ripples out from the initial point of impact and it affects everything. You were never the same after that.

“We’ll see.” Paul says as he raised to his feet and fastens the button on his suit jacket. “There’s plenty of time for the two of us to get reacquainted.”

Love Terry Bruno? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[meetinginsamarra]

Whumptober Day 11 "Captivity"

Sherlock, what have you done? Giving yourself into Smith’s captivity?

John did not actually need to count the times he had to apply pressure in order to restart Sherlock’s heart. Resuscitating people by performing cardiac massage had become such a deeply ingrained muscle memory that John’s thoughts could wander.

Back at Bart’s that first day you returned my life to me. Now let me give you back yours.

John switched to pressing his mouth firmly over Sherlock’s cold lips, inhaling deeply and breathing two times into the lungs. The touch was clinical and sterile but still, something tingled deep inside of John. He forbade himself to further think about it.

At my marriage you swore to always be there for me. Mary told you to save me because nobody else could. So you tried. You kept your promise.

Going through the cycles of pressure and breathing, John felt a rib breaking. He cringed inwardly, asking himself if he had just damaged the one he had already broken by kicking Sherlock again or if he had cracked a new one.

You deliberately trashed yourself on drugs and went to catch a serial killer all on your own. You rendered yourself helpless in any possible way to make me help you.

Breaking ribs was not important right now. They would heal in time. Sherlock needed to breathe. John had to avoid brain damage happening at all cost.

But I denied. I failed you. In every possible way.

John continued with chest compressions, hoping against all hope that he would succeed in inducing a heart rhythm again.

—

find the fic on AO3 HERE

chapter 2 is up now (prompts 6 to 11)

----

Please tell me if anybody wants to get tagged or untagged (just say it, I won’t get mad).

@helloliriels @calaisreno @7-percent @lisbeth-kk @inevitably-johnlocked @peageetibbs @gaylilsherlock @totallysilvergirl @alexisnoir @blogstandbygo @jobooksncoffee @missdeliadili @kabubsmagga @mary-johnlocked

[aragarna]

If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

For the fic ask game ^^

oooh what an interesting question. *ponders* I'd pick some of the most plotty fics. Maybe the Person of Interest/Counterpart crossover (One Path or the Other). The POI/Forever one (Though They Sink Through the Sea, They Shall Rise Again) would be great too! Most of my WC fics are episode tags, so they *almost* already exist, but maybe a post-season one. Or my main post-finale one (The Color of the Wheat Fields)

(side note, it's 2023 and my fingers still type "Peter" every time I try to type "Person"... My fic history is ingrained in my muscle memory)

2. Oh titles... The bane of every writer's existence. Very randomly for the most part (especially back in my White Collar days). Sometimes they're lines/references from the fic itself. One is a theater play title I saw on a poster and wrote a whole fic around. Some are inspired, some are not. Then more recently I decided to have more fun with titles, so all my Person of Interest titles are actual lines from the show. My Forever titles are lines from Dylan Thomas' And Death Shall Have No Dominion. And for Zorro fics, I try to make titles that sound like titles from the show's episodes or the movies.

thanks for asking! :-)

[yarnlegend]

Tumblr changed the location of the add tags button and my year and years of ingrained muscle memory is literally throwing up screaming about this wtf PUT IT BACK IN THE BOTTOM RIGHT HAND TUMBLR

[hawkuletz]

I always take notes in a plain text file (it's searchable, and my handwriting is a mess). I use (g)vim because I grew used to it. For a while when I was using Windows I also used Notepad++ which was a good fit for purpose but my vi(m) muscle memory is much too ingrained.

I have a few text files (broad categories: work, home, travel) that have grown throught the years, and have thought of maybe starting a tag system but didn't bother yet.

Almost the only thing that goes in the first column is the date in yyyy-mm-dd format (so that it's easy to jump to say june 2021 by searching for lines that begin with 2021-06; i.e. /^2021-06)

[svtskneecaps]

HEY

how are you?

i'm not ok from the comeback but it's ok because they made me feel loved

hope you had/have a good day tho

-patient person anon

MY GUY WE ARE SITTING SQUARE IN SEVENTEEN BRAINROT AND THE RAIN BIT OF THE MV GAVE ME HEART PROBLEMS, SO. NEVER BEEN BETTER <3

[low-po1y-princess]

It's been years since ive made one but if you put a piece of paper in front of me I'd still be able to fold a fortune teller

[abiik]

[taps chin] hmm i may only be here for a moment but i am thinking.

[starlightsylph]

(Fullview please, tumblr ate the resolution!)

I didn’t mean for this to get as detailed as it did, but it’s always nice to practice backgrounds. My darling druid Wren Avara is a delight to paint, even if her pose is a little stiff ^_^;

My Ko-Fi | Commission Info | Art Tag

[jen-with-a-pen]

Honeysuckle ❀ III

SERIES ❀ PREVIOUS ❀ NEXT

summary: You and Bucky reunite after he returns from a long mission. Apparently you missed eachother more than you thought.

pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: major fluff, missing eachother, reuniting, mutual pining, idiots in love, bucky picks reader up out of sheer happiness

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this is probably the fluffiest shit i have ever written. i mean its tooth-rotting, cavity-inducing fluff. simple yet effective. enjoy ♥

a/n 03/2024: hi! i have gone through and rewritten and reformatted a few parts in the fic in order to make it flow better and to ensure it has all-inclusive language in it (this was one of my first fics in the fandom and was not as educated as i am now.) if there are any mistakes, please feel free to DM me and kindly let me know :)

divider by @firefly-graphics | gif by @itz-me-aggie | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist

Read this fic HERE on ao3!- coming soon to ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

“Come here often?” A voice, rough and familiar, called out from behind you.

You whipped your head around, damn near giving yourself whiplash from being startled by the sudden intruder. Your stomach began to sink from the thought of someone finally finding your hiding place.

It’s kind of funny, though, how open your ‘hiding place’ actually is. The gigantic glass doors and windows leading back into the main boardroom of the Tower did very little to hide your silhouette stretching out over the balcony, illuminated from the hues of pink and purple of the sunset over Manhattan. Normally, you wouldn’t expect anyone to think of finding you out there that late. 

But Bucky wasn’t just anyone, though. 

A heavy, relieved sigh escaped you as you looked up to see him leaning against the threshold of the open entryway. Remaining rays of sun shone through the skyline at just the right angle onto him; you could almost see hints of Wakandan violet in his vibranium arm. His arms strained against his black t-shirt clinging to him like a second skin, dog tags shining just as bright as his baby blues.

Or, you considered, maybe it was his eyes that were brighter– like they always were when you were around. 

Or so you’d observed.

Bucky on the other hand was hoping the light was bright enough to hide the instant flush of red that spread across his cheeks and ears the moment you saw him. The sun haloed around you as he met your gaze. He knew he was a goner before opening his mouth.

A smile broke open and spilled across your cheeks as you left your perch against the terrace railing, practically running towards him. It was the first time you’d seen him since he got back from the ‘very important and top priority’ overseas mission that seemed to take a lifetime. It also was no help that you had been caught up in paperwork, debriefs, and local assignments, all of which hindered your time to call him via satellite phone– with an excruciating eleven hour time difference, on top of everything else. 

He met you halfway. His smile only widened as you connected with his solid form, outstretched arms locking around his neck as he hoisted you into the air. Your heart soared. Palms bunched up his shirt while you buried your face into his shoulder, melting as you inhaled the lingering scent of his cologne and the laundry detergent ingrained into every fiber of his t-shirt. One hand migrated to the base of his neck, fingers carding up and into his hair as if it was muscle memory. 

Bucky held onto you tightly, as if you were his last breath of oxygen on Earth. He found himself absorbed into your shoulder, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, reacquainting himself with the perfect fit. The two of you relished in eachother’s warmth, aided by evening sun spilling golden heat onto you both. Neither of you wanted to– nor could– let go of the other. To let go would risk this impossible dream ending. To let go would mean coming back down from Cloud 9. 

However, when Bucky finally set you down, the relieved gaze you shared with him solidified that he, in fact, was not in another one of your dreams. He was here. With you. For you.

Nothing could take the unyieldingly goofy smile off of your face now. Not even the speed in which words escaped both of you at once. 

“Buck–”

“Honey–”

You couldn’t help it. A surge of something on the brink of elation prompting you to throw your arms around him again. He mimicked you, squeezing you back, the swell of warmth and comfort and familiarity washing over you. You didn’t know what had gotten into you. 

He questioned the same of himself. 

“How, uh, how are you? How was the trip? When did you get back?” You spewed out every current thought at the forefront of your brain in a jumbled hurry. Bucky shook his head, debating which question to answer in his first interrogation home. 

“’m fine, trip was intense, and,” he looked down at his watch, “‘bout two hours ago. Jet landed and debriefing took a while.”

“Was it just you or did Sam ‘n Steve go?”

“Both, but I did most of the heavy lifting,” he winked.

Your cheeks ached from grinning, but you didn’t care. Everything in you, everything about him, made it impossible to stop. 

“Of course you did,” you snorted. 

“What about you? Do anything fun without me while I was gone?”

“Oh, ah,  just the best paperwork and ground missions a girl could ask for,” you rolled your eyes, elbowing him. 

“Sounds fun.”

“Had the time of my life.”

Silence– more or less a loss of words, really– wedged itself between the two of you as you struggled to string a coherent sentence together. Wandering thoughts, however, were racing on a different horse than your logical ones. He just looked so damn pretty in the light of the setting sun. You realized you were speechless because of him.

Out of ideas, you took his hand and led him to the railing you had left moments ago. “C’mere, I wanna show you my favorite spot.” You gestured with your free hand at the endless Manhattan horizon that swallowed the sun over its edge. Hand in vibranium hand, you admired the beauty of the city you both had grown to love.

The silence shifted into a warm, gooey-kind-of comfort. No need for words to fill the emptiness– you had each other's presence. 

You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder– a comforting motion shared between both of you regularly, but something about seeing him again after so long made it feel different this time. Heat rushing into Bucky’s face confirmed such a notion when he stepped back from the railing, allowing enough space to fit you in front of him. 

“C’mere, Honey,” he mumbled, stepping behind you and draping enormous arms over your shoulders, crossing them over your chest and resting his cheek against yours. 

Your stomach did an entire floor routine.

“You do know that Stark can probably see us on camera, right?” You turned your head against his chest, looking up to him.

“Mhm. Be prepared to never hear the end of it,” he sighed, shaking his head as a lopsided grin formed across his lips. 

You looked back out onto the skyline, sun began to finally dip below the horizon, leaving behind colored light waiting to be swallowed whole by the rising moon and city lights. Bucky pulled you closer, relishing in your warmth, hands crossed so tightly over your chest you knew he could feel your heart pounding.

You hoped there’s never an end to this.

[ynscrazylife]

Hey, here's a Marvel request that can hopefully help with your writer's block. Natasha x Reader where the reader is Tony's protege & a wiz with mechanics. Natasha first meets the reader when the reader is working on a car & she's immediately intrigued. Thanks

Grease Stains | n.r fluff fic

Summary: The story of how Natasha fell in love. 

Authors Note: Thank you so much for requesting! I loved this. 

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @sniktfam on pinterest

Being the woman she was, Natasha had grown to have quite a handful of memories ingrained into her mind — some so deep they left a handprint on her soul. Some were sad, others angry, and some happy. However there was one particular memory that soared above the rest. It was one of the lucky ones that painted a masterpiece of sunset colors on her soul, and it was the only one to grace her heart. That memory was one that always looped a smile on Natasha’s face, and it was when she met Y/N.

Also known as, the love of her life.

It had been a normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Tony had been talking about recruiting a protege - which the rest of the Avengers were against, because he was most definitely going to screw that up - who he’d teach about his technology. Little did she know - he actually did it! His protege was a young woman a couple years younger than Natasha who was not only mentored in the Iron Man and Avengers’ technology, but was a skilled mechanic. 

The spy learned all of this that afternoon when she had come back to Tony and Pepper’s house to drop Pepper off and spotted him and Y/N in the garage. 

“Tony?” She asked as she approached them, eyes furrowed in slight confusion.

Tony snapped his head up from his post where he was working on the coding for an update to Peter’s A.I, Karen. “Nat!” He said, his friend’s presence causing him to smile. He swung his legs over his workbench and jogged over to meet her. Y/N only spared a glance at Natasha, before resuming her work on Tony’s car.

“Who’s this?” Natasha asked, lowering her tone and gesturing to the mechanic with a nod. She couldn’t help how the butterflies began to swarm in her stomach, because the woman was absolutely gorgeous (and had muscles that even made Natasha a little jealous). 

“Oh!” Tony said, glancing over his shoulder. “That’s Y/N! She’s my protege.” 

Natasha blinked in slight surprise before she smirked. “Are you forcing her to fix your car?” She asked, crossing her arms. 

Tony chuckled and shook his head. “No. She was actually going to go on break but saw that there was a problem with my car and offered to fix it. Turns out she’s a mechanic!” He clarified. 

Natasha nodded, thinking, but before she could complete her train of thought, Tony lightly grabbed her arm and brought her over to Y/N to meet her. 

“Hey, Y/N/N! This is Natasha Romanoff, my friend. Nat, meet Y/N,” Tony said before stepping aside. 

Y/N’s head snapped up and she almost lost her balance. “Wait-” she said, glancing at Natasha before her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “You’re Black Widow! Oh my god, Tony told me all about you. You’re such an amazing fighter.” She stood up, smiling. 

Natasha nodded, chuckling. She liked this one already. “Thank you,” she said. 

Just then a loud beeping noise interrupted their conversation - and Tony whirled around to see Karen springing to life. “Let me go fix that - you two carry on,” he said, quickly getting right back into the zone and continuing his coding. 

Natasha just shook her head in amusement before turning her attention back to Y/N. “It’s very nice of you to work on Tony’s car,” she commented, leaning against said car. 

Y/N shrugged. “Yeah, well, why not?” She replied, continuing the small talk but catching a view of herself in the car window. “Shit.” She went to rub the grease stains on her forehead but only ended smudging it since there was grease on her hands. 

Natasha quickly scanned the room with her eyes and when she spotted a clean cloth, snatched it up and offered it to Y/N. “Don’t worry - it just shows you’re a hard worker and . . . it’s cute,” she reassured her. If Y/N didn't return the feeling, Natasha reminded herself she could just brush it off as being her usual sneaky self, but a large part of her hoped that Y/N would return the feelings. 

Y/N lightly scoffed, taking the cloth and mumbling a “thank you”. “Oh, I didn't know that. Guess I should get grease on myself more often,” she said casually, wiping her forehead. Natasha shifted the weight between her legs, thinking that Y/N might not know that she was flirting with her. 

She had to try again. 

The two fell into silence as Y/N resumed her work. Natasha watched her, feeling entranced. As time went by the redhead noticed more cute things about her. How her hair curls lightly bounced and framed her face. Or the freckles that dotted her nose. Time seemed to flow by like a breeze on the beach.

After a bit, Y/N leaned against the hood of the car, taking deep breaths. She was tired and sweaty, but Natasha didn't care. She leaned against the hood of the car as well as Y/N grabbed her water bottle and took a huge gulp. When she put it down, she ended up bumping her knee into the car and instinctively stumbling.

Natasha, who was always alert, easily grabbed her by the arms and caught her before she could fall. Now steadied, Y/N caught her breath and met Natasha’s eyes, just now recognizing that that warm, soft touch was her palms.

The two held their gaze for a couple moments. Time seemed to stand still and everything else fell alway. Y/N got a first hand look at just how stunningly pretty the Black Widow was, and Natasha felt herself captivated by her eyes, unable to look away even if she wanted to.

“Kiss already!” Tony’s yell of encouragement jarred Y/N and made Natasha send a sharp glare his way. But neither of them moved.

“Well?” Natasha asked, raising her eyebrows.

Y/N took a breath, in bliss, and then - not believing what she was doing - leaned forward. Natasha met her halfway and they captured each other’s lips in a meaningful kiss. Natasha pulled Y/N a little closer and Y/N curled her fingers around Natasha’s hands.

After a couple of seconds, they both departed. Y/N was in a daze. That kiss was probably the best kiss she ever had. Natasha was able to snap back to normal a bit quicker and smiled, the ghost of the feel of Y/N’s lips on hers causing a small ache.

“Is there grease on me?” Natasha asked in a whisper after a moment.

Y/N giggled, and then nodded. “Probably,” she answered, also whispering.

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[hard-technology-rock]

little drabble based off my warden emmet au

reblogging with your thoughts in the tags would mean a lot to me!

bl/nkshippers and other pr/shippers | /nti-/ntis dni you guys make me genuinely uncomfortable as a sibling 💚

writing under the cut

the wind's gentle touch on his face is what ultimately brought him back to himself. the wind stung his eyes, freezing small lines on his cheeks. had he been crying? he didn't know why he would be crying.

he blinked a few times, fully centering himself, eyes focusing on the nature around him. a mountain spanned his an entire vision as he took in his surroundings, tall and menacing.

this isn't where i should be.

the thought sent a jolt of fear through him, worsened tenfold when he realized he had no idea where he should be. a burning, tight feeling clawed it's way up his throat, stealing his voice and placing it under lock-and-key. subconsciously, he clutched at his upper arms and rubbed at them, attempting to self-soothe.

where should i be?

the wind batted at his face, and the tracks on his face felt ice cold. he reflexively buried his face in his coat, the tall collar protecting him from the wind and keeping the rest of his body warm. too warm, almost.

he couldn't stay here, his mind provided past the knot in his chest. his coat would keep him warm, but the sun was low in the sky as it was. he needed to find shelter before night fell and it became colder. he hesitantly dropped a gloved hand down to clutch at his jacket, near where it flared out at his waist, and he began to step foward- small and hesitantly, at first, but quickly growing into large strides.

that's how he continued for some time, pushing foward in the dwindling daylight. he could hear the occasional distant cry of a pokemon, serving to soothe his anxiety. a timer in the back of his head kept a steady beat, counting how long he'd been here, wherever 'here' was.

it is nineteen-hundred hours, thirty-nine minutes, and twenty-two seconds. i have been here for three hours, five minutes, and fifty seconds.

at six minutes and thirty-five seconds past twenty-hundred hours, he ran almost face-first into some weirdly tall blue-purple pokemon that almost resembled a sneasel (what was a sneasel?), especially with the long feather it sported. it turned and looked down at him, a feeling that unnerved him greatly.

he could analyze the feeling later. first things first.

"i am-" his voice cut off, a forgotten line to a script so ingrained into him it was habit. he felt the burning, tight feeling try to rise once more, but he plastered a stronger smile on and tried again. he could modify the script. that could work. it would be fine.

"i am sorry." he stated, staring at the strange sneasel's feather. the thought of eye contact made his skin crawl. "i am verrrry lost. could you take me someplace i can stay the night?"

the stretched out and purple sneasel eyed him, slowly bringing a claw up and investigating him. the strange touch set him on edge, instinctually making his muscles tense. the touch was warm- surprising him. but it wasn't as if he expecting anything else.

he was getting sick of his muscle memory expecting things he did not remember.

after a few minutes of infurating prodding, the weird sneasel appeared satisfied, and seemed to move towards him with intent to pick him up. instictually, he backed away, expression sharpening.

"please do not touch the conductor!" his mouth said. the weird sneasel looked surprised at his words, an expression he was sure was mirrored on his own face.

after a few confused blinks, the weird sneasel shrugged and started walking. when he didn't immediately follow, it turned around and made a 'follow me' gesture, huffing. or was it closer to a 'come hither'?

the sneasel growled and made the gesture again, snapping him out of his thoughts. he began to stride towards it, arms swinging a wide arc. this satisfied the sneasel, and it continued to move foward, leading him somewhere. hopefully a settlement, though he could probably deal with a cave.

as the sunset began to paint the sky stunning colours, blocked by the mountain, he allowed himself a moment to breathe. everything felt wrong and off-kilter here, and his body kept running on tracks he did not see, could not remember, but-

breathing in the air that felt foreign in its crispness, he could find his way again.

he couldn't keep ____ waiting.

or not, he internally groused. he really was getting sick of running on deactivated rails.