#or something fit to send you to outer space (and i. do not mean the fun way i mean the 'what dimension are we in?????' way)

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Leonardo: Now, the recipe calls for 2 shots of vodka.

Dazai: *upends the bottle*

[tanjamikaelson]

UNEXPECTED HEAT | Rafe Cameron x fem!reader |

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you returned to the Outer Banks early, only to find Rafe—an old crush—unexpectedly staying in your home. Seeking solace and a distraction from your heartbreak, you boldly ask Rafe to help you forget your ex.

Warnings: unprotected sex, cheating.

When you decided to leave Sun Valley early and return to the Outer Banks, you were seeking comfort and familiarity. The vacation, meant to be a time to relax with your family and boyfriend, had turned sour after you caught him cheating. It had been a brutal end to what was supposed to be a refreshing escape, and all you could think of was getting back to your friends and the peace of your own space.

The moment you stepped into your house, something felt wrong. The living room wasn’t as you left it—clothes were scattered on the floor, and cushions were tossed haphazardly across the sofa. Your brow furrowed as you scanned the mess. You distinctly remembered tidying everything before you left for the summer, so why did it now look like someone had been living here? Your pulse quickened as your eyes swept over the disarray, unease building in your chest.

You shook off the strange feeling, telling yourself you were being paranoid. Maybe your brother had come home early without telling you. That had to be it, right? Taking a deep breath, you moved through the house towards your bedroom. The familiar creak of the floorboards beneath your feet should have been comforting, but instead, it sent a chill down your spine. When you passed by the guest room, you paused, hearing the unmistakable sound of water running from the shower. Anxiety pricked at your skin.

“Y/BROTHERS/N?” called out hesitantly, moving closer to the bathroom door. The water abruptly shut off, and for a second, your heart felt like it might leap out of your chest. Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay calm. Maybe he really had come back and just forgot to mention it.

You rapped on the bathroom door, trying to keep the nerves from creeping into your voice. "Who's in there?" you demanded, already scanning the room for anything you could use to defend yourself. Your eyes landed on a golf club leaning against the wall, and you quickly grabbed it, holding it up as a makeshift weapon.

There was a long pause, and the door creaked open. You braced yourself, muscles tensing for whatever—or whoever—was behind it.

But it wasn’t an intruder or some stranger.

It was Rafe.

"Rafe?!" You exclaimed, the golf club immediately dropping to your side in shock. The boy you’d had a crush on for years stood in the doorway, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, his skin still glistening from the shower. His chest, all muscle and tan skin, was on full display, and for a moment, your thoughts scrambled. You couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting down to his abs, the sight sending an involuntary jolt through you. Your breath caught, and you quickly licked your lips, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You managed to ask, though your voice came out a little shakier than you'd like.

Rafe looked just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. He nervously ran a hand through his wet hair, his eyes flicking around the room as if searching for an answer. "I—I thought your family was at Sun Valley," he finally stammered, clearly not expecting you to walk through the door.

Your brows furrowed as the confusion deepened. "So you thought to move into our house?" you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes, demanding some kind of explanation.

Rafe’s eyes darted everywhere except towards you, his usual confidence replaced by awkwardness. "Yeah… I didn’t have anywhere else to go."

"What do you mean by that?" Your confusion was palpable now, the pieces of the puzzle not fitting together.

Rafe was quiet for a moment, his jaw clenching as if he didn’t want to admit whatever it was he was about to say. "My dad—he kicked me out of the house. So I’ve been staying here. I didn’t think your family would come back so soon."

Your heart softened slightly at the vulnerability in his tone. You had heard stories about Rafe’s complicated relationship with his father, but seeing him like this—uncertain, exposed—it tugged at something deeper within you.

You let out a slow breath, your arms uncrossing as your body relaxed a little. "Well, actually, I came alone."

Rafe shifted on his feet, looking like he was ready to bolt at any moment. "I will leave—" he began, moving towards a duffle bag by the bed, clearly ready to pack up and disappear.

But before he could continue, the words were already spilling out of your mouth. "You don’t have to—"

The sentence hung in the air for a moment, Rafe freezing in place. His head turned towards you, confusion and something else flickering in his eyes.

"I don’t?" He asked, his voice tentative, as though he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying.

"Um, no," you said, your voice coming out steadier than you felt, "Actually, I would like you to stay." A strange surge of confidence swelled within you, and the shift in power was tangible. You smiled lightly, your mind racing with a plan that you hadn’t even realized you were forming until the words left your mouth, a seductive edge creeping into your voice as you locked eyes with him. “But… in return I need you to do something for me.” 

Rafe’s eyes brightened slightly, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. He gave you a cautious smile, clearly unsure of where this was heading. "What do you need?" he asked, his tone more confident now as he took a step closer to you. His body language had shifted, too—he was more comfortable, leaning into whatever dynamic was evolving between you two.

You stepped closer to him, heart racing, your mind swimming with thoughts of your ex, your disappointment, and the undeniable attraction that had always been there with Rafe. Your voice lowered, becoming almost a whisper. "I need you…" You took another step closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "I need you to fuck me so I can forget about my ex."

The shock was immediate. Rafe’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly as he struggled to find words. "You… You really want that?" His voice was hoarse, unsure if he’d heard you correctly.

You nodded, your lips curling into a smirk as your hand reached out, gripping the towel still wrapped around his waist. "Yeah, Rafe. I want it. Badly."

Before he could react, you tugged the towel free, letting it drop to the floor. Your eyes took in his full length, and your hand wrapped around his thick cock, beginning to pump him slowly, relishing the way his body responded to your touch. You had imagined this moment more times than you could count, and seeing him like this, feeling him like this was even better than you had fantasized.

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto yours as your hand moved up and down his length. His cock twitched and hardened further in your grip, and you couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction that bloomed inside you. He was reacting exactly how you wanted him to.

"Faster," Rafe murmured, his voice laced with desire, his gaze never leaving your fingers as they worked him.

You smirked up at him, not needing any further encouragement. A few moments later, you sank to your knees, the anticipation building inside you like a fire. You needed to taste him. You stroked his cock a few more times before leaning in, your tongue flicking out to taste the tip before pulling him into your mouth.

The moment your lips wrapped around him, Rafe groaned, his head tipping back slightly as he gripped your hair, guiding your movements. His body was tense, and you could feel how much he needed this—how much you both did.

"God…" Rafe breathed out, his voice thick with pleasure. "I guess it’s my lucky day."

You smiled around his cock, loving the way he was unraveling beneath your touch. His breathing grew ragged as you took him deeper, and his grip tightened when you swallowed around him, choking slightly but loving every second of his reaction. You could feel him hardening even more inside your mouth, and it sent a thrill through your body.

"Open wider, baby," Rafe whispered, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you further onto his cock. You did as he asked, taking him deeper, letting your throat relax as you swallowed around him.

As his climax neared, you pulled away abruptly, leaving him on edge. The need between your legs was now unbearable. He gently tapped his cock against your cheek as you gasped for air, your eyes meeting his, filled with lust and a newfound power over him.

"Stressful day, huh?" You asked breathlessly, smirking up at him as you wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Yeah," Rafe replied, his voice still heavy with lust as he gazed down at you, catching his breath. There was something darker in his eyes now, a need that went beyond simple release. He needed more of you, and you could feel that raw energy radiating off of him.

“How close are you?” You asked, your voice filled with both curiosity and anticipation as you looked up at him.

“Close,” Rafe answered instantly, his eyes narrowing as they focused intently on your face. He looked like he was holding onto control by a thread, his breathing ragged, his muscles tensing and relaxing in time as you ran your tongue along his length. But that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted him fully, entirely. You needed more than just him in your mouth.

Without breaking eye contact, you stopped, watching as the realization crossed his face. His brow furrowed slightly, but before he could say anything, you stood up, your confidence in the situation palpable as you began stripping off your clothes. Each layer hit the floor, revealing more of your skin, and Rafe’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched you.

Once you were completely naked, Rafe didn’t waste any time. He grabbed you by the hips, pulling you roughly against him, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. It was hungry, desperate, filled with the kind of urgency you both felt. His hands roamed your body, squeezing and exploring, while his lips devoured yours as if he couldn’t get enough.

Without warning, Rafe spun you around, pressing your front into the bed. Your breath hitched in your throat as his hands grabbed your hips, pulling your ass up into the air. The cool air hit your exposed skin, heightening every sensation, every touch.

Rafe wasted no time. His fingers slipped between your legs, and the second he felt how wet you were, he let out a low groan. “Shit… You got this wet by sucking me off?” he growled, his voice a rough whisper as his fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow, teasing circles.

A loud moan escaped your lips, your body already aching for him. "Yes, Rafe. Fuck me… Please," you whimpered, pushing your hips back into his hand, craving more of his touch, more of him.

That was all the encouragement Rafe needed.

With one swift motion, he thrust into you from behind, and you cried out at the sudden fullness. His cock filled you completely, stretching you in a way that made your whole body tremble with pleasure. Rafe let out a deep groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he set a punishing rhythm, thrusting into you hard and fast.

"Oh my—fuck!" You gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets as Rafe’s thrusts became more powerful, each one hitting deeper than the last.

Rafe’s hands roamed up your body, his palm gliding across your spine, pausing to squeeze your ass before moving up to cup your breasts. He shifted your hair out of the way so he could lean over you, his mouth brushing against your neck, your shoulder, anywhere his lips could reach. His breath was hot against your skin, uneven and ragged as his hips continued to pound into you.

You could feel your insides clenching around him, the pleasure building higher and higher, but you were holding back, trying to prolong the feeling as long as possible.

"Don’t hold back, baby," Rafe whispered into your ear, his voice low and teasing as he leaned down, his hand slipping to your clit once more, giving it another few delicious rubs.

That was all it took. The orgasm hit you hard and fast, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. You buried your face into the bed, muffling your cries of ecstasy as your body trembled beneath him.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his own breathing ragged as he continued to move inside you, his thrusts growing more uneven as he neared his own release. "Fuck, you feel so good around my cock," he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could go.

With one final thrust, Rafe let out a deep groan, his body shuddering as he came, filling you completely. He leaned over you, his sweaty forehead resting against the back of your neck as his chest heaved with each breath. For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, bodies entwined, breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.

As you both came down from the high, you panted heavily into the bed, your limbs trembling from the intensity of it all. Slowly, Rafe pulled out of you, and you whimpered at the loss of him. You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath, and Rafe collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to steady himself.

"Thank you for that," You whispered, your voice soft as you turned to look at him.

"I'm not done with you," Rafe vowed, his eyes darkening as he raised an eyebrow at you. "I could feel how neglected that pussy's been." He tsked dramatically, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "I do believe I can make up for that, Y/N."

"God, I hope so," You sighed, grinning when he nodded in agreement.

Rafe knelt between your legs, his hands tracing your inner thighs slowly, savoring the sight of you laid out before him. His gaze lingered on your flushed face, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. “You're gorgeous, Y/N," he repeated softly, his voice carrying a reverence that sent warmth through your chest.

His fingers brushed over your sensitive clit, causing you to shudder under his touch. He spread the wetness around, teasing you, drawing out soft gasps as he watched your body respond to him. Every small touch sent shockwaves through you, building the anticipation that pulsed between your legs.

Rafe braced himself with one hand next to your head, his other hand guiding himself to your entrance. He moved slowly, pushing into you with deliberate care. A groan escaped his lips as he filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming for both of you. His breath was ragged, and you could see the strain on his face as he fought to keep himself in control.

You gasped softly, your hands sliding up his arms and over his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your touch was gentle, urging him to move without pushing, letting him take his time. Rafe’s eyes squeezed shut as he held still, savoring the feeling of being inside you, the way your body gripped him so perfectly.

When he finally opened his eyes, the intensity in his gaze nearly took your breath away. The need, the desire, the unspoken connection—it was all there, written across his face as he looked down at you.

Rafe leaned down, pressing his lips to your neck in an open-mouthed kiss that made you arch beneath him. Then he started to move, slow at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax with each movement, and your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer. His lips found yours, and the kiss was soft, almost tender as if something unspoken was being exchanged between you.

"Faster," You finally whispered against his lips, the need inside you growing unbearable.

Rafe obliged, his pace quickening, each thrust now hitting a spot deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. Your bodies moved together in perfect sync, every touch, every kiss intensifying the connection between you.

"I’m so close," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as the tension built in your core.

"Me too," Rafe groaned, his voice strained as he fought to hold on just a little longer. His thrusts became more urgent, and you could feel the heat coiling in your belly, ready to snap.

When the climax hit, it was overwhelming. Your back arched off the bed, your body convulsing with wave after wave of pleasure. Rafe’s name spilled from your lips in a breathless moan, and as you tightened around him, he followed right behind you, his body shuddering with release.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy breathing of the two of you, your bodies still tangled together, hearts racing in sync. Rafe collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, and you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it began to slow.

The reality of what just happened started to sink in, but there was no regret, only a warm, satisfying calm. You felt safe here, in his arms, and maybe that was what you needed most. Not just the distraction from the heartbreak, but the feeling of being wanted, of being cared for.

Rafe turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowed slightly, a question on his lips. "So… you broke up with your boyfriend?" he asked quietly, his voice soft and cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up now.

You turned to look at him, nodding as the weight of your break-up settled back into your chest. “Yeah. He cheated on me.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening slightly as he processed what you’d said. "Seriously?" he asked, disbelief coloring his tone. He blinked, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite understand. To him, the idea of anyone cheating on you was unfathomable. You were perfect to him—strong, beautiful, everything he could want.

"Yeah," You said, your voice heavy with sadness as you recalled the memory. "I caught him… and then he confessed it wasn’t the first time."

Rafe’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with anger at the thought of someone treating you that way. "What a fucking idiot," he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. His fingers gently brushed over your arm, comforting and grounding. "He didn’t deserve you."

You smiled, appreciating his words more than you could express. "I thought things would change when we went on vacation together," you explained, your voice tinged with sadness. "But nothing was different. He was still distant."

Rafe shook his head, his anger giving way to something softer, more protective. "Well, his loss," he said, his tone firm, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah," you murmured, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you said it out loud.

The comfortable silence stretched between you for a moment before you glanced at Rafe, a playful glint in your eye. "You know… I actually liked you way before I ended up in a relationship with him."

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise flashing across his face. "You did?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

You nodded, smiling. "Yeah. You were always hot… especially now." You reached out, your hand brushing over his toned abs, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingers.

Rafe smiled a genuine, warm smile that made you feel like maybe everything was going to be okay. "You know, if I’d known you felt this way…" he trailed off, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. "I’ve always thought you were… well, you’re amazing. More than amazing."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Really?" you asked, your voice small.

"Really." His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped to a near whisper as his hand moved to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. "I’ve wanted you for a long time."

The confession hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. You could see the truth in his eyes, and it made something inside you shift, your feelings deepening in ways you hadn’t expected. This wasn’t just about forgetting your ex anymore. It was about something new, something real.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Maybe we can make up for lost time."

Rafe smiled into the kiss, his arms pulling you closer to him as he whispered back, "I’d like that."

The air between you shifted again, the playfulness giving way to something more intimate, more real. This time kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate like before—this kiss was filled with something deeper, and in that moment, the world outside faded away. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, with a future that suddenly felt a little less uncertain.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Undercover ~ Nine ~ Princess

Pairings: Jake Jensen and OFC Samantha Matthews

The Losers have made it back to their families and are out. Well, almost. A threat against the British crown needs to be handled and the CIA has tapped the Losers for one final mission. And they are sending in Jensen.

Jake Jensen hasn't been a civilian in years but now he's undercover to find out why his target is where he is and who he's after.

Enter Sam, someone who Jake doesn't expect and well, he didn't know he was looking for.

Can Jake handle his mission and falling in love? Especially when the truth leads to a bigger mission than expected?

*~* A Jake Jensen Story *~*

Author's note: this story continues after the events of the Losers. I may weave other characters into it but they are all minor. THE TAGLIST IS OPEN.

The playlist is available on Spotify.

cover photo by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: angst, death, smut, and a bunch of stuff a can’t say because it gives away the plot!

Previous: Eight - One Hell of a Coincidence

Story Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Jacob David Jensen is smart.  He may act like an idiot but it’s a ruse. Because he’s smart.  Degree and everything.  

He’s never felt dumber.  

He is staring at his girlfriend like she is an alien from outer space. Because she’s not just his girlfriend. Nope, it can’t be that simple.  

His girlfriend is the heiress to the throne of England.  

A country.   

A Fucking country.  

Her father is a king.  What does that make her mother?  Was he supposed to bow to Sam now?  Oh god, does he now have to refer to her title?  A million questions are now running through his head.  

“JJ, please look at me.”  His head snapped back to her face.  Her beautiful face was turned sad and some tears are in her eyes.  “Please don’t look at me differently.”  

“Princess, I, shit, I’ve been calling you that the whole time. Princess, you’re a princess.”  

Sam nods. “Jake, what are you thinking?” 

Jake swallows. “I... I don’t know. You’re my girl and you’re royalty and I feel like your brother is going to have me beheaded or something for... shit, your dad is a king!” He starts to pace. “I don’t know what this means for us.”  

“It means nothing JJ.  Its still just you and me.” Sam looked at her man, wishing he would stop and just kiss her so he can ground himself. But she can see his panic, his anxiety, his uncertainty in his eyes and she knows she needs to stop him.  She tugs his arm and pulls him towards her.  She kisses him hard, and Jake deepens it, letting the familiar pull of desire take over.  As she slowly pulls back to breath, his eyes remain closed. “JJ?” 

His eyes flutter open. “Sorry, I just... I don’t want to lose you Sam.”  

“You won’t.”  

“How do you know that?” 

“Because I’m not that important.”  

“Why do you say that? Of course you’re important.  You’re important to me.”  

Sam smiles softly. “I know that. Its why I love you. But to my brother, I’m not. Can I explain?” Jake nods and the sit on the couch. “Tony is the king, yes but my position is only mine until he starts a family.”  

“So does he have kids?”  

“No. Not yet. But they are working towards announcing his engagement.  See, my mother didn’t want me to be brought up with all of the royal stuff. Her and my father had hit a rough patch when I was born and they decided to separate. My father visited as much as he could while we lived in England but when we moved to New York, that became harder.  When I was ten, my father discovered that he could no longer have children.  So, it was just me and Tony.  Tony was going to inherit, and I was the spare.”  

“Ok, but you’re still important.”  

“I guess so. When Tony has kids, they will unseat me as the heir to the throne, which suits me just fine. I don’t want to be queen of anything. I just want to be Sam Matthews. Or maybe...” she stops. “Anyways, the Duchy was set up so I would never want anything from Tony. I rarely touch it but that is where my title comes from.”  

“So, you are what Fitzgerald is after?” 

“I guess so.  The real question is why. My mother never made waves when she separated from my father.  She was never crowned queen or anything because they never got married. But because my father recognized me to the Prime Minister but kept it hush, not a lot of people know about me.”  

“Ok,” Jake smiled, “ok. Then we just need to figure out who is bankrolling Fitzgerald and expose them. When does your brother plan on announcing his engagement?”  

“Three months.” Sam leaned into Jake. “This is so weird to tell someone else my secret.”  

After their conversation, Jake held Sam as she slept, finding comfort in her warmth. Her soft breathing as she slept formed a lullaby that sent him to sleep.  

Waking up alone he panics slightly until he heard her speaking on the phone.  

“Papa, I don’t know what happened. Fitzgerald just... no, Jake made me get into the panic room... yes he built one... he’s in the military... papa, please... no I don’t want to go... in a safe house, Jake’s team is taking care of us... no they don’t know who... is mama ok?... ok... no I promise to give you updates, I’m sure inspector Hart will always update you and Tony... is he mad at me... ok... yes papa... love you too.”  

Jake watches as Sam puts the phone down and wipes a tear from her eyes.  “Princess?” 

“Hi Jakey.” She barely holds it for him to cross the room before she crumples in his arms.  She sobs uncontrollably for a bit, Jake stroking her hair, whispering sweet nothings.  After a few minutes, she calms to a small hiccup.  

“Wanna tell me what these tears are about, my princess?” 

“My dad is angry. Very angry that I was found and that I was so close to being taken away.  He wants me to come home.” Another tear falls. “I don’t want to go.”  

“But, if it keeps your safe...” 

“Without you Jake.  They want me to leave without you.” She sobs again and leans into him.  

Jake hurts. He doesn't want to lose Sam. He kisses her head. “Listen to me Sam. We are going to get through this, and we will be together on the other side, ok? I love you and nothing will change that, you hear me?” 

She nods but Jake can see she is still scared.  He cradles her face before kissing her gently. When he feels her kiss him back, he moves to deepen it a little more.  She moans into the kiss and it's like a hot wire to his cock. Without breaking the kiss, he moves her to straddle him.  They pull back and he can see her sparkling eyes and kiss-swollen lips. “God, you are so beautiful,” he whispers.  He pulls her back into another kiss and then lifts her up, wrapping her legs around his slim hips.  He walks them back into their room and lays her down. He sits up slightly and she whimpers from the loss of his heat on her body.  

No words.  Jake pulls her camisole off, leaving her top bare to him. Sam reaches to pull his shirt off as well, drinking in the few tattoos on his body. Jake lays over her, nipping at the spot behind her ear and down her neck as Sam plays with his hair. He kisses a path down her body, tasting every inch of skin. He gets to her panties and he kisses around the lace edge. “Jakey, please,” she whispers.  

He grabbed the sides and pulled, guides down her legs. He inhales at the apex of her thighs, enjoying her unique scent.  He places kitten kisses and licks, enough to rile her up, begging for more in whines and cries.  He finds her little nub and licks it deep. She wails at the sensation.  Jake doesn’t stop until he can feel with his tongue that she’s close. “Let go Sam. Let me drink you, princess.”  

She denotes around his tongue, crying out in a rush of pleasure. Jake works her through it before pulling away and sliding his boxers off.  He gently cages Sam in to look into her eyes. “I love you.”  

“I love you,” she gasps as he pushes into her.  Jake groans as her warmth surrounds him.  

“God baby, I love being inside you.”  He moves his hips softly, not wanting to just fuck his girl but make love to her. Make her feel how he feels. He made love to her, making sure she felt good. Her eyes floated close.  “Open them, princess. I want to watch you fall apart.”  

Sam slowly opened her eyes as she stared in this pool of blue looking back at her.  “Jake,” she mewled.  

“Let go, my princess.  Take me with you.”  Sam felt the desire about to overflow and she squeezed Jake so hard that he choked with satisfaction.  She cried out as her orgasm washed through her.  She barely registered Jake meeting his own end, slowing to make sure every drop stayed inside but not wanting to overwhelm her.  

As Sam drifted off to sleep, Jake continued to hold her. His phone beeped with a message.  

“We need to talk.”  

John Fitzgerald was fuming. He completely missed his chance at snatching Sam from her home.  She had gotten into the pantry and then the door didn’t move.  “A fucking panic room,” he growled. “That fucking IT nerd asshat built a fucking panic room!” 

The man sitting with Fitzgerald swirled amber liquor in his glass.  “Did you even do recon on the prick?” 

“I didn’t think I had to.  He was just some IT shit.”  

“An IT shit that outsmarted you. Have you found them?” 

“No, their last signal was some neighborhood 50 miles out of town. I sent some men to scout the area but so far no luck.”  

The man stood up and looked out to the river behind his home.  “You had one job to do! I need her to complete this part of my legacy.  She is the only one who is in the way!” 

“I understand, sir...” 

“No you don’t.  And you will address me as Your Royal Highness from now on.”  Edward Davenport spun around and looked at Fitzgerald. “I am still the son of a King.  My brother may have been King and I should have been if not for his ungrateful brats.”  He began to pace.  

“Yes, your royal highness.”  

Edward took a breath.  “Find the girl.  Bring her to me.  The assassination should be executed in the next month or so.”  He looked at John.  “Don’t fuck this up.  Otherwise, it is your head that takes her place.”  

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@kandis-mom

@lokislady82

[obeymematches]

Hello! Are you taking matchup requests? If yes, I'd like to send one in for Obey Me. I'd like a pina colada please

I'll go by ⭐. My pronouns are she/her and I'm demisexual

Appearance: I am South Asian with long wavy black hair. Usually tie my hair in a half ponytail at the back because I like how it looks and I don't really like the feeling of hair on my shoulders. I am 165 cm tall and reasonably fit

Personality: I'm calm, collected and hardworking. I can be a bit aloof and arrogant sometimes, but I make sure it doesn't get out of hand. I am curious and perfectionistic, and I'm also pretty academically smart (though I sometimes struggle with impostor syndrome lol). The gifted kid burnout syndrome is catching up, though. People say I do have a bit of a cold facade, but once they get to know me, they say I'm much warmer and gentler than they initially thought. I care deeply for my friends and my family, so I'll do whatever I can for them. I do face a lot of pressures too from having to be the perfect oldest daughter, the therapist friend (despite psychology not being my major, more of a special interest) and from having to do well in school (as much as I enjoy engineering, it is kicking my ass low-key). It may not look like it, but I'm very much a romantic, but I'm more practical about it if that makes any sense 😅😅

I often bake my closest friends and family a cake on their birthday with a silly message written on it. I also has a soft spot (special interest) for outer space and love to stargaze wherever the skies are clear. Don't know if this is important, but I do make some pretty mean South Asian food if I do say so myself

Likes: Books, herbal tea, art, lofi hip-hop, video games, anime, drawing, spicy food, affogato, outer space

Dislikes: Incompetence, unnecessary conflicts, bullies, fake friends dishonesty, cruelty, dog-eared book pages, anyone who dares threaten my family, loud noises, itchy fabrics

oh! we've done an exchange not too long ago.

I've decided to match you with Solomon.

• Your academia vibes definitely match his; don’t get me wrong, although he is a master of many things, unfortunately he isn’t a fashion icon (yet?) but he thinks academia style looks elegant / cute depending on the day. • It just means that he is attracted to you at first sight. Which is always a good start, even if you don’t elope into a long talk the very first time you meet. • (Bet she looking 🔥 when she feels comfortable and cute!) • To be fair he isn’t here to make friends with humans; he was fine neglecting the human world for several decades. He isn’t going to care more, now that another human is here…. but curiosity got the best of him and eventually he made sure to meet you before classes. (No. He didn’t attend that class.) • After your quick chat it became a weekly habit of his, to meet you there and then, start some kind of conversation (you’d think he was awkward and you’d be very wrong. Listen he communicates and manipluates his ways into forming a pact with almost every person there.) • It only starts getting awkward when he starts to like your personality for real real. For example this week he arrived 5 mins earlier and was waiting for you. • After a while you two found yourselves in front of your class’s door 20 minutes (!) before it would begin. Huh. • He liked your cold facade ngl, he likes a challenge. However, his ice cold frozen heart slowly, very slowly starts to melt as you warm up to him more and more. • He learned that you are reliable and trustworthy, which he very much appreciates. It lowkey made him want to get closer to you, I mean spiritually. Please help him with this or that, let me show you something, you must see this, etc. • This went on for months, you were truly good friends when he asked you the question you were excited to hear; Would you date me? Shall we go on a date? • Of course he jokes about it being a human thing and at first you can’t tell if hes just being funny or he is serious…. • By now he figured out that you like romantic stuff so if you agree to date him he is going to make the first date romantic just to please you! Possibly stargazing as you like that, or maybe a museum if you are not comfortable with meeting at night. • He secretly craved for a long time to have this level of intimacy with someone and so he’d make sure to please you; whatever you r love language is he does it to make you feel loved and secure! • The fact that you can and will cook is going to be life saving in the long run! • Some downsides of this relationship include him making dog ears to some of the books, he is always up to no good, very known public image so it’s hard to go out in public without anyone stopping you two (in the devildom, the human realm is safe).

My second option for you was Barbatos, honestly the only downside of that relationship is that neither of you is going to start and try to have a good conversation…. so it’s a rocky beginning, but if you get past that phase somehow, it’s going to be pretty solid if I do say so myself.

[sevi007]

Also, also - apart from annoying aliens - the entire space trip in FF8, while a little confusing (why are we suddenly in space, up until now, everything felt a little old-timey apart from weapons and stuff) and Rinoa going zombie-mode, was really cool in terms of character development and emotions.

I mean here you have Squall - mister “I can do it alone, I don’t talk about stuff” literally freaking out over the prospect of Rinoa. He carries her through half a country, goes to space, and basically begs Ellone on his knees to send him back so he might save her. That’s a huge leap, and I can totally see how the sudden influx of emotions, for someone who has tried so hard to keep them all at bay for half his life and just function, is a bit too much, which might be why they come bursting out of him like that.

But then you also have Ellone, who was tormented for and by her abilities her entire life, suddenly realizing - for good - that she had been loved. That she is probably still loved. That Laguna would never fault her for “being the reason” he wasn’t there when Raine died. And finally coming to the realization that the present is so much more important than the past.

These guys can fit so much character development it’s insane.

And the outer-space rescue? Hey, look at that, FF8 did this way before GotG made it cool. XD

Also, for some really strange reason, german translation turned Rinoa’s “give me a hug, I need to feel that I’m alive” into “mwah, mwah! Let me feel I’m alive!” instead, which... doesn’t sit right with me. The first one is clearly a girl asking to be held after she nearly freaking died in outer space and now needs to be held for a bit. The second one is the almost silly question for a kiss, which draws this entire situation into something more funny than serious. Translation didn’t do this one justice imo.

[kiwicopia]

Hello! Mind if I send in an Obey Me matchup for an OC? Her name is Parvana. I'm gonna write this as if she's speaking, so... here you go.

Appearance: I am South Asian with long wavy black hair and tan skin. Usually tie my hair in a half ponytail at the back because I like how it looks and I don't really like the feeling of hair on my shoulders. I am 165 cm tall and reasonably fit. My favourite colours are purple, blue and black, and most of my closet gives academia vibes. I like academia fashion since I feel the most comfortable in it and it looks cute.

Personality: I'm calm, collected and hardworking. I can be a bit aloof and arrogant sometimes, but I make sure it doesn't get out of hand. I am curious and perfectionistic, and I'm also pretty academically smart (though I sometimes struggle with impostor syndrome lol). The gifted kid burnout syndrome is catching up, though. People say I do have a bit of a cold facade, but once they get to know me, they say I'm much warmer and gentler than they initially thought. I care deeply for my friends and my family, so I'll do whatever I can for them. I do face a lot of pressures too from having to be the perfect oldest daughter, the therapist friend (despite psychology not being my major, more of a special interest) and from having to do well in school (as much as I enjoy engineering, it is kicking my ass low-key). It may not look like it, but I'm very much a romantic, but I'm more practical about it if that makes any sense 😅😅

I often bake my closest friends and family a cake on their birthday with a silly message written on it. I also has a soft spot (special interest) for outer space and love to stargaze wherever the skies are clear. Don't know if this is important, but I do make some pretty mean South Asian food if I do say so myself.

Likes: Books, herbal tea, art, lofi hip-hop, video games, anime, drawing, sweets, spicy food, affogato, outer space.

Dislikes: Incompetence, unnecessary conflicts, bullies, fake friends dishonesty, cruelty, dog-eared book pages, anyone who dares threaten my family, loud noises, itchy fabrics.

As for what I like to do on Valentine's day, I'd rather do something to unwind, like sharing a cup of hot chocolate with my partner at home, or in a cozy little coffee shop.

I hope this is enough information. Take your time, and thanks in advance if you do this.

Belphegor is the one for you. He'll waste no time in offering to go stargazing with you and will point out each constellation, if you don't mind him doing so. Would love to unwind with you. Belphie would much rather sleep than go to a coffee shop, however, he'll definitely make the effort and more on such a special day. At the end of the day, though, he'll snuggle with you in his bed, his head on your chest as he practically clings to you like a pillow. He'll loosen up if you need him to, but at least let him rest his head in your lap. He just wants to be as close as he possibly can to you on this special day.

[inazuman]

My Queen (let me confess my lust to you)

The pro-hero event features an exclusive pre-viewing of the royalty display at the museum. The party is a success, and the crowd oohs and ahhs over the marvellous jewels. As the party moves from the display to the bar, you go to shut off the lights and make sure all the security is running perfectly when your boyfriend, Aizawa, decides he’d like to keep you company – and you both get a little… distracted.

Words: 4.4k Content and warnings: Aizawa Shouta x Reader, smut, reader-insert, reader identifies as a woman with a vagina and goes by she/her, THRONE SEX, Aizawa is your boyfriend, he calls you his queen, Dom!Aizawa, sub!reader, though I think the dom/sub tendencies are medium to lowkey, not an au – he’s a pro-hero, oral (both f and m receiving), you ride Aizawa on the throne, semi-clothed sex, plot what plot / plot no plot, use of a variety of other nicknames as well: baby, baby girl, kitten, not proof read Author’s note: thank you so much for your support my last fic! I hope you enjoy this one and I hope to be writing more <33 cheers!~  

“You’re mine.” He says roughly into your ear, his breath ghosting over. “You’re a queen, but you’re my queen. Mine to touch. Mine to give pleasure to. Mine to make cum. Mine to fuck.”

What a wonderous and successful event. You are the incredible go-to event planner for all hero events, with a keen eye for graceful colour palettes and an expertise on luxury. And no one could deny how well this event has gone. The theme is royalty, and the ballroom is filled with displays and high-security casings of the most expensive jewels and jewellery made fit for kings and queens. The crowns and tiaras are placed softly on plush cushions. People filter through to see each displayed item and gawk at the price of them. Heroes and their helpers fill the room. You’re proud of the event, and proud to be here with Aizawa Shouta, a pro-hero and your ever-loving boyfriend. You’re wearing a beautiful, midnight blue gown with a thigh slit and gold jewellery. The velvet material is soft at touch and comfortable. The main event ended about an hour ago and all the guests have now left, moved on to the open bar downstairs to drink and dance. You lead all the remaining people out and guide them to the bar, and your boyfriend joins you to check up on all the items and lock up the room. The ballroom is stunning, and the displays are even more luxurious. Without the crowd filling the room, you can see each detail in all its glory. Delicate moulding scatters the walls like a gentle breeze, and the jewels sparkle under the chandelier like the night sky. There sits a grand throne at the back of the room. You take the opportunity to fully enjoy each display now that the room is empty. When you grace in front of one of the crowns, you take the crown from the plush cushion it sits on and place it over your head. It balances precariously on the top of your head, and you turn around to show Aizawa with a pose and a large smile on your face. He chuckles and smiles back lovingly. “Fit for a queen like yourself.” He says. You walk up the stairs at the back of the room and take a seat on the throne, sitting with your back straight and crossing your legs whilst looking at your boyfriend, who somehow looks both happy and serious all at once. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he’s watching the way your thigh exposes itself to him when you cross your legs, knows exactly how it would feel in his mind when he runs his finger up and down the area and squeezes the supple flesh with his fingertips. Your heels trace around your ankle and elongate your legs, and the skin glimmers softly in the moonlight. It does something to him, the sleek expanse of your leg and the crown on your head, and he can’t help but think it’s both absolutely adorable and breathtakingly sexy all at once. The room dresses you in a hazy glow, and in that moment he realises he doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have the most stunning woman he’s ever seen right in front of him, fully loyal and belonging to him and him alone. His forearm and hand tenses, almost imperceptibly but enough to illustrate he’s bothered. You look at him curiously, and when you make eye contact you notice that he’s looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do with you. Aizawa comes to the edge of the bottom step, smiles at you and bows deeply to you, and you giggle. He slowly waltzes up the stairs with each graceful step, the noise of his dress shoes echoing across the room, to stand right in front of your throne. He places a finger under your chin, tilting your head up at him, and bends down to kiss you softly. It’s gentle, loving. Perfectly shows the utmost love and respect he has for you. He pulls away, and then kisses you again, deeper this time. He places a hand on the armrest of the throne so that he can more fully bend over you, and runs his tongue over your bottom lip before kissing you again. Your heart starts beating faster, and your hands move to his neck to pull him closer to you. You breathe in his scent – musky and deep. You feel the way his skin moves over the bones of his jaw as he kisses you, the way he swallows when he takes a moment from the kiss to breathe – like he’s just slightly hesitating. Like you’ve taken his breath away. He moves his hands to your hair, and you go to move the crown off your head to give him more freedom with the action. “Keep it on.” Aizawa says as a demand, and the tone sends warmth down your spine. His voice is deep and rough, and the short statement sends something straight to your core. You look at him curiously. You know this tone means he’s serious, and there’s no room for disobedience. You put your hands down from where they were in the middle of the action. He kisses you again, placing his hand on your waist. “My queen.” He states it simply, but sees the way your pupils dilate at the name. He smirks, glad it has the effect he wants on you. He kisses your neck, leaving a mark at the base of your scalp so that it’s easily hidden by your hair. He continues to kiss down your neck and moves down to your cleavage, where your breasts are pushed up oh-so-prettily thanks to the dress. He places a kiss on each breast, and carefully pulls the straps of the dress down to flip over the material and expose the white lace material underneath. He carefully reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, throwing it over the backrest of the throne. You spread your legs to give him space between them as he focuses his attention on your breasts. He swirls his tongue around one of your now-exposed nipples, then uses the tip of his tongue to flick it. He notices the way your hands tighten around his strong triceps when he does so, and does the action again. He places his other hand on the cool skin of your other, unoccupied breast, and rolls that nipple slightly between his thumb and pointer finger. He then engulfs the nipple he’s been toying his tongue on into his mouth and sucks, whilst his other hand gropes your breast. You run your hands into his hair to move his face closer into you at the sensation, feeling yourself getting wetter. He then swaps to do the same again to the respective breast, tonguing at it whilst his fingers pinch and pull at the other now-wet nipple, the slick of his spit giving him the lubrication for him to be more aggressive with it. He takes the nipple between his lips and sucks harder than he did the first time, until he hears your quiet whimpers above him. He then moves to place kisses and hard sucks on the underside of your breasts. He makes his way down your body, kissing your navel until he’s down on his knees in front of you. He spreads your legs so that one is over the arm rest of the throne and the other, the leg with the thigh slit, is gently thrown over his shoulder. He turns his head to place a kiss on the inside of your knee, then another at the bottom of the inside of your thigh, another one a little higher. He keeps going up slowly, looking up at you and making perfect eye contact as he teases you. He places a kiss on your clothed core, breathing in the scent of you, and the way he’s looking at you is as if it trances him. It makes you feel like the world is tilting on its axis. He notes that the fragile material of your underwear does nothing to hide how wet you are. Or the sweet scent of you. Or the ridges of your labia and cunt, which are now blossomed open due to the arousal you were feeling. He runs three of his fingers up and down the garment, pressing into it with each finger individually over and over again like a wave. He slides the underwear down your legs and over your heels, then pockets it into his suit jacket. Your legs presume their previous position. Aizawa sighs at the sight of your pussy in front of him. He runs his hands up and down your thighs, pressing his thumbs into your inner thighs. “Shouta...” you start to say, wondering why he’s just looking and not doing anything, “what are you-“ “I’ve always wanted to know what royalty tastes like,” Aizawa says, and then takes a long swipe of his tongue from the bottom to the top of your slit, moaning at the sweet and salty taste of you on his tongue. It reminds him of strawberries and a sea breeze, and he just can’t get enough of you. “Oh,” you speak, your voice airy and breathy as you immediately coast your fingers through his long locks, lightly scratching at his scalp, “oh, fuck. Oh, Shouta.” He runs the tip of his tongue over the outer lips before moving back to the inner portion, then swipes his tongue up and around your clit, careful to avoid your clit so that he could tease you just a little bit. He’s very much the brat tamer, and if you were both at home he would be edging you over and over and over again for the public indecency you’ve led him to right now, but you’re still in public so he’ll save that for later. He zigzags his tongue from the bottom of your cunt all the way to the top, making you wait as he gets closer to your clit and does a singular swipe over it, the anticipation making the sensation all the more extreme. Then he repeats it again, loving the way your body is getting frustrated at him. He lets you off on it and changes tactics before you get too frustrated. He moves his tongue towards the part of you that’s tensing around nothing, and you feel the warm muscle enter your canal. He takes a short pause to take his fingers and put them into your mouth, and you can smell yourself on him from when he was touching you over your underwear. He then inserts one of those fingers inside of you slowly, and you feel every inch of his long finger slide into your tight hole. He very gently and slowly curls his finger towards himself, catching on an area that has you gasping and moaning. He returns his mouth to your cunt to lick around his finger as it plummets into you, still purposefully avoiding your clit. He finally, finally, pays some attention to your clit as he traces the tip of his tongue around the nub. He’s taking his time, wanting to feel every crevice of your pussy glide over his soft muscle. He circles again, and then again. He then takes a soft kitten lick at your clit. He varies pressures as he continues to kitten lick slowly over and over again, testing to see your reaction to it so that he can give you the right pressure without overstimulating you. He finds the perfect way, and slowly increases his pace. You moan louder for him, nails digging into the back of his head and pulling his face towards your hot core as the pace increases and the pressure gets just a little bit harder. He’s listening carefully to the way your breath catches each time he licks the sensitive bundle of nerves. He looks up at you and sees the way your back arches and your neck is thrown back to expose so much of your decolletage, breasts exposed out of you dress. Your nipples are hard and aching, with light stimulation from the breeze. Aizawa is unbelievably hard under you, enamoured by your soft thighs and the way that your breaths and whimpers sound. He’s unconsciously rutting just slightly into the air, craving for stimulation that he won’t let himself have until he makes you cum hard over his tongue. Which he knows he’s close to. He can feel the way the thigh that’s over his shoulder is tensing and releasing over and over again, how you’ve now moved the other leg that was previously on the armrest to instead rest on his other shoulder as you can’t resist from closing your thighs. He can practically see your heart beating out of your chest as your breathing becomes harboured your breaths coming hard and fast like the way he’s ceaselessly lapping at your clit, your hips tilting towards his mouth more. He takes your clit between your lips and sucks lightly, making you moan at the sudden feeling. Your thighs fully tense, your head tilts up and into the back of the chair, your knuckles grip hard in Aizawa’s hair and moves to grip the armrest. For what feels like almost a whole minute your mind is blank as you hold your breath for a moment before your orgasm crashes into you and you’re crying out his name. Aizawa smiles slightly at the sound of his name bouncing off the walls. He is relentless underneath you despite the fact that you just came all over his mouth. He’s lapping into you from your tensing hole to your throbbing clit, collecting as much of your slick into his mouth as he can as you’re coming down from your high. The feeling ebbs away slowly, and you begin to register the sound of his mouth’s actions as they continue, as well as your own harsh breaths. You start to feel the stimulation on your oversensitive pussy oversensitive pussy. “Ah, ah…” you begin to say softly as you come back to yourself, moving Aizawa’s hair out of his eyes, smiling euphorically at him from your orgasm. And then you realise he’s still not slowing down. “Ah, Shouta… Shouta! Sensitive, so sensitive, too sensitive!” you start, and move the palm of your hand to push his forehead back a little. Aizawa continues regardless, but eventually lets up, smirking at the way your legs are still shaking a little and your pants are slowing. He shifts his weight from his knees to the bag of his heels and looks at you. The length of your dress is draped carelessly away from you and he can see the whole expanse of both your legs. He stands up and scoops you into his arms, sitting on the throne with you on top of him straddling him, crown still placed on your head. Your cheeks are flushed, matching the rubies on the crown that are reflecting the soft starlight coming through the windows. You unbutton his shirt to expose his muscular figure, fingertips raking down his abdomen to feel the muscles there. You run your hands back up his arms, sinking your fingertips into his triceps and watching the way the dress shirt glides over it. You move your hands from his shoulders to either side of his cheeks and jaw, and place a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on him. You move down his body to kneel in front of Aizawa, similar to how he did to you earlier, taking note of his thick thighs that shift under his dress pants. You unzip his pants and take his cock out, smiling as it springs towards you. It’s girthy, and you wrap your hand around it and move it up and down his shaft with a few strong, slow strokes, listening to his breathing deepen at the sensation. He has a masculine scent, and the hair is trimmed back and well-kept. You almost wonder if he was planning for something like this to happen tonight. You lick the slit at the head of his cock, and Aizawa lets out a groan above you. You lick either side of it a couple times and feel his hand at the base of your scalp tightening. You then take the head of his cock into your mouth, pull away, and then take more of his cock – again and again, until you’ve taken as much of it as you can. You take the base of it into one of your hands, and run your hand up and down his member as you bob up and down it. You can feel Aizawa’s thighs tense around you. All Aizawa can think is that it is such a sight to see his queen, crown and all, looking up at him and taking his cock so well under him. He’s so aroused by this that you don’t do this for long before he’s pulling you back up and over his lap. He gives you a deep kiss, and you feel his tongue swirl in your mouth. As he kisses you, he swiftly takes a condom out of his wallet that he swears is just for emergencies that he didn’t think he had to prepare for, chucking his wallet to the side of the throne. He breaks the kiss for a moment to slide it over his hard member, and you watch the way the edge of the rubber slides over each ridge of the veins wrapped around delicately. As soon as it’s fully down, he smashes his mouth back onto you, running his tongue over the gums right behind your teeth, which has you moaning into his mouth and grinding over him. He can feel how wet you are over his cock, and as you grind again your clit catches onto the head of it, making you gasp. He’s gripping your hips tight, his self-restraint slipping as his urge to just be inside of you increases. He pulls you back from the kiss for a second to lift you up so that he can press the tip of his cock against your cunt. He slowly pushes it in, and you both gasp at the feeling of just the head being inside of you. Your breathing shallows as you sink inch by inch, lower and lower onto him until he’s fully sheathed inside of you. You stay there for a bit, adjusting to his size, and he takes this pause as an opportunity to grab at your butt cheeks, stroking the smooth skin there before gripping hard. “Gods, you look incredible.” He says, and you look down at him and make eye contact. You gasp, as you see so much emotion in his eyes, so unlike what most people think they know about him. He looks at you with love and lust, like you’re a wondrous beauty he caught from the sky. It brings a pang to your heart, to be the reason for it. His eyes are encompassing the view before him, dark blue velvet dress shimmering in the moonlight, your breasts spilling out of the dress from when he pulled the straps down. He can’t help but run his thumb over your erect nipple, making your legs tense and causing you to grind just a little onto him.You can’t take it anymore. You use the armrests of the throne to start to raise yourself up a couple inches, relishing in the way his cock inside your velvety walls, and drop yourself back down, moaning as you feel the head brush your cervix – the pain-pleasure of it feels like a shot of electricity in your veins. And then you do it again, Aizawa watching you the entire time, enraptured by the way you look on top of him. He can feel your slick all around his dick, the way it moves and trickles down as you ride him. He grabs the back of your neck to set a steady pace, nails digging into you as he grits his teeth. “You just had to do all this and look like that, didn’t you?” Aizawa starts, his voice deep and his breaths shallow. “Looking so fucking hot in that dress and that crown, and you expect me to look at you like that and not take you right here.” It amazes you, to listen to him say this. Aizawa, a man of restraint and infinite patience, and yet you did this to him. It spurs you on, making you pant as you continue to ride him. “You know this isn’t my style, baby girl,” he grunts, “fucking you whilst we’re out. But since we’re here, I’m going to give it to you like you deserve. My queen.” And with that his hands move to your thighs, nails digging into your skin, moving you up his member and slamming you back down. He momentarily takes one hand and pulls your face towards him so that it’s right next to his, his lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re mine.” He says roughly into your ear, his breath ghosting over. “You’re a queen, but you’re my queen. Mine to touch. Mine to give pleasure to. Mine to make cum. Mine to fuck.” He emphasises the last word with a considerable thrust of his hips upwards towards you, causing you to arch your back and push your chest towards him. He takes the opportunity to take one of your nipples into your mouth, sucking it roughly. You feel the cold air as his mouth unlocks from it. He’s tightening his grip on your hips hard enough to bruise. You turn your head into the crook of his neck, encompassing yourself in the scent of his musky cologne as you near your peak. He can acutely hear your soft whines, he can tell purely from the sounds you make when you’re close to your orgasm. He knows it like he knows the back of his hand, like he knows how each strand of your hair falls on your head and wraps around his face as he pulls your face a little away from him. He pushes a strand of hair back behind your ear, and places his hand at the base of your scalp. “Look at me.” He says, and you open your eyes to look at him. You can see a slight sheen of sweat covering his neck. Despite how much impact is being made as he’s fucking you, his voice is calm and even. And he’s looking right at you, honeyed gaze fierce and desperate. “You keep your eyes on me the entire time, you got it?” His demand sends a feeling down your spine and you nod feverishly, unable to speak from the stimulation of how hard he’s fucking you, focusing on making both him and yourself feel good. “I expect a response when spoken to, kitten. Don’t tell me you’ve dumbed out so much you can’t even respond with a simple ‘yes’.” You don’t even fully process what he’s saying. Nevertheless, you softly say “yes”. And then you say it again, and again. Yes, yes. You touch foreheads with him as you say this, and you can feel his breath against your mouth. “Good girl.” He shows a soft, genuine smile at your obedience. He rewards you by taking his thumb into his mouth, and then moves it down to your clit. You whine at the extra stimulation, moving one arm to around Aizawa, fingertips digging into the bottom of his scalp and twirling into his hair. You press the other into the top of the throne, using it as leverage to keep riding him. You can feel your impending orgasm, the way your mind blanks out to just the stimulation. All you can hear are Aizawa’s grunts and moans, and your own heartbeat getting faster. You can hear each gasp and deep groan that you elicit out of him. You can feel the way he’s throbbing inside of you each time you lower down onto him, the pace getting faster. You don’t even register the sounds you’re making as your own, but every whimper and moan spurs Aizawa on. He can feel your soft, velvety walls tensing around his hard member every time he twirls his thumb a little over your clit. “Please, Shouta. Please. Please,” you whimper, the last please almost sounding like a whine, letting him know you’re about to reach your peak. “Yeah? You wanna come, queen? Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. Come, my queen. Come for me.” Aizawa says, and you finally let yourself go. You take one deep breath in, fingernails dig into him hard. And then you clamp around him, back arching, letting out a scream as your orgasm hits you. Your body feels like it’s finally releasing days of tension that it’s been holding on for so long, and you feel his large member so noticeably as you release. At the feel of your tight cunt squeezing him, his thrusts start to falter and slow, and he comes with a grunt. Both of you breathing hard into each other, hearts beating heavy as you slump down over him. He takes your face into one of his hands and pulls you towards him, kissing you softly. You giggle at the intimate action, mind still floating with the aftershocks of your orgasm and the dopamine running through your veins. Aizawa smiles at this. “Thank you, my queen,” he says into your mouth. He looks up at you, and notices how the crown now sits slightly lopsided on the top of your head due to the force of your encounter. You both laugh softly at the predicament whilst taking time to catch your breaths and come down from your high. After a while of being held by your loving boyfriend, his soft cock still inside you, you begin to raise yourself on your knees, placing one foot on the ground with wobbly legs. Aizawa holds you up with his arms to help you stand properly. You take your bra from where it’s been precariously thrown over the throne, and loop your arms back into it. Aizawa removes the condom to discard downstairs later. As he gets up to buckle back his belt and button his shirt, you sit back on the throne to put on your heels. You both laugh and chat as you skip arm-in-arm back to where the crown once was. You go to place the crown back on the plush, velvet cushion it sat on, and lock up the ballroom. You both go down to spend the rest of the party with your now very drunk friends, whilst the both of you are drunk on something else entirely. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author’s end note: Thank you so much for reading! This is very much self-indulgent, I love the idea of throne sex. Also my ex-fwb called me his queen all the time, and he’s very good at giving head and had an oral fixation and used to eat me out for hours so this is lowkey reminiscent of the sex I used to receive irl lol

[emeraldiis]

Mirrorball // I

A/N: there will be a part two!! dont worry!!

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Reader hides her insecurity under a guise of unwavering happiness, but Loki ends up finding out the truth. Meanwhile, Loki struggles with feeling worthy of love.

Warnings: suicidal ideation, insecurity, misunderstandings, angst

Loki wasn’t sure why you lived with the Avengers. Sure, you were one hell of a good cook, and you bartended at Tony’s numerous parties, but surely you could do that while having a place of your own. Normally, Loki wouldn’t have given a second thought to where somebody chose to reside--even if he couldn’t understand people’s willingness to be anywhere near Stark--but you were driving him insane.

When Loki had first arrived at the tower, it had been a cruel and unusual punishment. House arrest at the very place that he suffered a humiliating defeat, with the very heroes that had defeated him. Of course, not many people were very welcoming. He was permitted to roam about the tower as long as he stayed on good behavior, but that didn’t mean all residents were alright with it. 

Stark was the easiest to deal with; his jokes and quips about Loki’s unfortunate ventures to rule, well, anything stung, but the malice behind them faded with every passing day. After all, it had been a long time since New York. Banner and Wanda were another story. They treated him politely enough, but the fear behind their eyes whenever he passed by made something rotten stir in his gut. No matter how much he attempted to redeem himself, people still saw him as evil. A villain.

It seemed as if Steve and Thor were the only ones glad to have him there. The Captain’s open arms had come as a surprise, but Loki was intuitive, and very quickly realized that Steve saw him in the same light as he did the Winter Soldier, Bucky. And in a way, Loki could see the similarities. They had both done awful things--albeit under far different circumstances--and were now working on gaining the trust of the ones kind enough to give them a second chance.

So Loki found himself seeking out Bucky’s company far more often than any of his other acquaintances. It was a strange sort of companionship, but it worked; Bucky usually opted to listen instead of speak, giving Loki the opportunity to ramble on about whatever grievances he held that week. There were usually a lot, and Bucky was the only one who didn’t offer him useless advice. He simply nodded along, fixing Loki with that thousand yard stare until he had finished.

And then, of course, there was you. All smiles and playful energy, with a raunchy sense of humor and a sharp tongue. You were much smaller than him, in terms of height and stature, but he often felt dwarfed when you were in the room. You just took up so much space with that reckless attitude and need for everyone in the room to be laughing. In an odd sort of way, you reminded him of a clown. Not because you were goofy, or funny looking, no. You just...made people smile, held their attention and made it your dying goal to be there for entertainment. 

The first time Loki had seen you, he was quick to notice your easy beauty. It was rare that he found a Midgardian woman to be attractive, but he couldn’t deny that something about you just appealed to him. You weren’t a supermodel, nor were you drop-dead gorgeous in terms of Midgardian standards, but you had a very real-life grace. You didn’t look like those dolled up actresses he often saw on the television, you looked more natural, something that instantly caught Loki’s eye.

He had been reading quietly in the common room of the Stark Tower, having been forced out of his room by Thor to “at least be present, brother.” The other Avengers droned on about petty events while he attempted to tune them out. And then you stormed in, bringing a sense of excitement to the room with your very aura.

You greeted each person individually, making sure no hero was left out, until your eyes settled on him. Loki felt a heat rise in his cheeks under your intense gaze, and shifted uncomfortably. He brushed off the feeling as it simply had been a while since he had spoken to an attractive woman, not wanting to admit to himself the effect your presence had on him.

“New guy, Loki, psycho murderer,” you rattled off, still staring him down. Loki felt as if you were a cat, and he was the poor mouse that you had selected as your new plaything. “Which do you prefer?”

That caught him off guard. While he was still somewhat unfamiliar with Midgard’s social customs, he was at least sure that this was not a normal way to greet a stranger. That, and the disrespect warred with what he was used to: women on Asgard bowing to him, treating him with the dignity that a prince deserved. Despite the surprise, Loki’s aloof outer demeanor was not shaken, and he let the strangeness of it all roll off his back as he replied, “How about ‘God of Mischief?’ Or, if that is a bit too wordy, I would be open to ‘King Loki.’”

 Your eyes lit up, and Loki found himself having to fight back a smile. His unconscious reaction left him feeling confused and slightly frustrated. Why was this mortal girl sending his emotions in a whirl? Loki scrambled for some sort of reasoning that didn’t have him looking pathetic, and settled on the idea that it had been a while since he had bed a woman, and you were particularly attractive. It only made sense that his body would react in ways that he had not expected.

Lost in his head, Loki barely noticed you were speaking again. “I like this one!” You said, clearly excited that he had matched your banter with ease. “New best friend acquired.”

Once again, you had left Loki reeling. Best friend? He wasn’t sure if he had ever had one of those before, and certainly not with someone he had just met. In fact, he wasn’t entirely positive that he even wanted one. Especially in the form of some over-enthusiastic mortal. Before he could protest, you plopped yourself down next to him on the couch. It wasn’t a very big piece of furniture, so when you settled into your seat, you were only a couple inches away from touching Loki. 

He could feel the heat radiating off of your body, and once again, his heart fluttered. The urge to lean into you overwhelmed him, and Loki furrowed his eyebrows. God, had it really been that long since he had been with someone? The frustration at his stupid body for its stupid needs grew, and Loki made up his mind then and there. He would court you, then fuck you, and get over this silly little infatuation. With your earlier outburst at wanting to befriend him, Loki figured that it would be a breeze. With his silvertongue and charming good looks, he would have you squirming under him in no time. Easy.

But, of course, nothing was ever easy for Loki. You had managed to prove him quite wrong over the next few weeks. Your obliviousness to flirting was quite impressive, Loki found, despite even his most direct attempts. Every advance he made was thwarted by complete, and utter ignorance, coupled with the fact that you had probably not taken a single thing seriously in your entire life. 

Loki would compliment you, and you’d grin wolfishly and twist it to make his words sound insulting, then cackling madly. And then was the time he “joked,” about getting you into his bed, to which you burst into a fit of giggles and said, “No way! I don’t want to be the other woman to Bucky!”

Loki had recoiled in bewilderment, and decided that enough was enough. Obviously you weren’t worth the effort, considering you never actually listened to anything he said. He’d just have to find someone who was capable of holding a conversation without turning something into a joke.

But...he couldn’t deny that he was constantly having to fight back a laugh at your remarks, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that you were annoying, not funny. And even when he had abandoned his plot to seduce you, Loki found himself gravitating towards you. Truth be told, he knew how to be direct, to really get what he wanted, but every time he worked up the courage to just lean in and kiss you...something stopped him. Deep down, he knew that if you actually rejected him, then the game would be over, and something about that just seemed devastating to Loki. So he continued with cat and mouse, letting you deflect his advances time after time, because at least you weren’t actually saying no.

He’d wander in the kitchen while you were cooking, sit down to watch your favorite shows and movies, and had even taken to sitting on the roof with you late at night when neither of you could sleep. Loki couldn’t avoid it anymore. It wasn't a simple attraction that he felt, it was adoration. You, a mortal of all creatures, had captured his interest. Maybe it was your wit. Maybe it was your unshakable happiness, the ability to keep everyone’s spirits up in any situation. Maybe it was the crushing need to protect you, to protect that pure soul from the viciousness of the universe. Whatever it was, you had actually ended up as Loki’s best friend. And somewhere along the line, he had fallen in love.

You sat in the living room alone, knees curled up to your chest on the couch. The four walls of your room had felt confining, like a prison cell that kept getting smaller. Your usual place of refuge would be the roof. But you didn’t dare venture up there like this. With your luck, Loki would find you there, and you weren’t sure if you had the strength to keep up your carefree persona.

Loki had never seen you upset before, never seen you weak. No one had, if you were honest. You fought hard to keep a smile plastered on your cheeks to keep up the appearance of a girl who never faltered with her high spirits. In a way, it wasn’t entirely fake. Joking around and being joyous was your real personality, but it was also a defense mechanism. If you never took anything seriously, nothing would ever hurt. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. The anxiety that wrecked your brain stayed constant, though, making your life a constant war with your own mind.

Your friendship with Loki was a fragile one, or at least it felt that way. You often felt as if you were walking on eggshells; every word that came out of your mouth risked driving him away. He had seemed to enjoy your wild and snarky personality when you first met him, so you didn’t dare try to be anything else. You were afraid that he would lose all interest when he discovered that you were just as fragile as all mortals were.

It was risky having your breakdown out in one of the main rooms, but the risk was better than dealing with the claustrophobia of your lonely bedroom. Besides, it wasn’t like you were going to sleep anyway. Better to just wait for daylight where you could at least feel some modicum of safety.

In your misery, you had forgotten that Loki was not an easy being to hide from. You were pretty sure that it was damn near impossible, actually. He seemed to...sense...your emotions, when you were in distress. And though you never showed it, kept that unwavering smile plastered across your face, he always appeared when you needed a friend to sit with. Tonight was no different.

Like a shadow, Loki emerged from the hallway in front of you, piercing eyes quickly landing on your curled up form in the darkness. He raised an eyebrow at you when you refused to even acknowledge him. “Dear, would you like to go up to the roof? Away from prying ears?” He offered.

You shook your head, and shrunk further into yourself when he crossed the room to sit next to you. Loki looked a little uneasy, as it was rare that you were silent. Usually, he had to fight to get a word in when you were on a tangent. Not that he minded too much. Though he liked to talk, he held a certain fondness for listening to you.

Loki tried again to engage you. “Why not? I know it’s a bit chilly tonight, but you’ve never minded that before."

It was clear that the god wasn’t going away until you gave him some kind of response, so you gritted your teeth and lied. “Sorry, bud. I just feel sick, that’s all.” You forced a laugh, but it sounded strained. “I’d rather stay close to the bathroom. I’m not sure Tony would be too excited if I puked on his roof.”

Blue eyes stared into yours, and you could literally feel Loki not believing you. Of course the God of Mischief would be able to spot a lie from a mile away. Still, he didn’t push the subject, something that you were grateful for. “Alright,” he said, leaning back into the couch. “Would you like me to sit with you?”

Fuck, you didn’t want to have to reject his company a second time, but you really needed to be alone right now. Loki seeing you have a meltdown would be the last straw, and you’d just end up throwing yourself off of the Stark Tower. No, it was better this way. “That’s okay, you get some rest. I’m not gonna keep you up for something so small.” You still hadn’t looked up, afraid that Loki would see the glimmer of tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. “Besides, you need your beauty sleep,” you tried to tease, but your voice came out flat and dull.

Loki thought for a second, then sighed. “As your king, I override your decision. I will be staying here until you’re feeling well enough to sleep.” He waited expectantly, obviously ready for you to make some bratty quip about not being one of his subjects, but it never came. You just didn’t have it in you.

Now that Loki had fully sunk down on the couch, his body was only inches from yours. You wanted so badly to lean into the heat of his side, to bury your face in the crook of his neck and let him cuddle your fears away. Instead of following your instincts, you squashed the daydream like a pesky bug. Nothing about Loki indicated that he was the cuddling type. Hell, he’d never so much as hugged you. He probably wasn’t a big fan of physical touch.

Deep breaths, you told yourself. Just keep it together until you’re on your own. That’s when you stiffened. Loki had stretched a long arm around you, and was looking at you intently to gauge your reaction.

“Is this okay? Humans are very social creatures, touch can help provide some comfort if you’re feeling ill.”

Loki’s scientific approach to the entire situation almost made you break out into laughter. Almost. Regardless, it was too hard to resist when you had such an open invitation. You scooted closer to the god and leaned against him, letting Loki hold you tight.

Before you could even try to stop yourself, you had burst into sobs. Something about being held had just broken the dam, and you were weeping uncontrollably into Loki’s shirt, sputtering out apologies all the while.

Loki shushed you and held you tighter, and you could’ve sworn that you felt an aura of possessiveness in his embrace. “It’s okay,” he murmured into your hair. “I’m here to help.”

You didn’t know how long you cried for, but when you were finally able to rein in the tears, you were horrified. Loki’s shirt was soaked with snot and tears, and your face was most definitely swollen and blotchy with red spots. And, worst of all, you had just proven to him that you were weak, and not worth his time. This was a disaster. 

Loki, hearing your sniffling come to a stop, pulled away to look at you, and bit his lip nervously before beginning to speak. “There’s something I must confess to you. Seeing you now, trusting me with your vulnerability-”

You cut him off by jumping up from your seat, knocking his arms away from you. Like hell you were going to listen to the rest of his rejection. You already knew what he was going to say. That you were weak, that he no longer wanted anything to do with you. “Listen, Loki,” you snarled, unable to mask the pain in your voice. “You don’t have to say it, I get it. I’m gonna go to bed, you don’t have to hang out with me anymore,” you said, rushing to get the words out before you died from humiliation.

Loki watched in bewilderment, his words of affection dying on his lips and you turned tail and ran out of the room. Rejected? By a mortal? He had never known such embarrassment. And you hadn’t even had the good graces to let him finish. His heart began to darken with rage and shame. Of course you ran away, of course you didn’t want to be with someone like him. No one did, he should be used to this kind of treatment by now. How foolish of him to think that you would be any different.

[genesisrose74]

𝕤𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕠𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕖𝕤 ▸ 𝕜. 𝕥𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕦

| the piggyback passages series |

Installment 2: in which a visit to the gym after practice leads to bubbly fits of laughter and dizzying shenanigans.

Pairing: Kuroo x Reader

Getting to see the Nekoma gymnasium right after volleyball practice ends was always an interesting sight. Players cleaning up, putting things away, and occasionally bickering with one another never failed to entertain your inquiring eye, one that managed to catch the remnants of their training session nearly every time you stopped by.

With a swift set of knocks on the gym door and a welcoming nod from Coach Nekomata, you enter into the vast space that’s become all too familiar to visit after school hours. The handle of the brown paper bag in your possession sways back and forth on your finger until it’s placed down on a folding chair near the boys’ practice bags, the smell of nikuman wafting through your nose as you crouch down to set it aside. Hopefully the team was hungry — which they almost always were post-practice.

Turning to the court, you’re met with an assortment of kind but tired out faces as numerous team members wave hello, at which you flash a kind smile of greeting. Your eyes finally settle upon a familiar figure leaving the storage closet, his voice easily distinguishable even in the midst of multiple as he converses with a (clearly disinterested) Yaku.

“I’m just saying that science is much more interesting than history,” he remarks airily, at which the libero scoffs.

“You’re clearly incorrect,” he responds matter-of-factly. “At least history is somewhat applicable to my daily life.”

“You say that as if everything around you doesn’t exist and work based on scientific principles—kitten!”

The Nekoma captain is pulled from his little debate for the moment as his gaze finds itself lingering on you, who’s currently snickering at one of many constant disagreements that the two aforementioned third years seemed to instigate on the daily. At your next words, however, his own growing smile at seeing you drops into a dramatic frown.

“Sorry Tetsu, but I’ve gotta agree with Yaku here,” you shrug with a cheshire grin, skirting around a casual greeting in favor of poking fun. “History is far superior to science as a core subject.”

Yaku smiles back at you, raising an arm in your direction with a smug flourish. “Case in point, rooster ass.”

Despite your disagreement on which academic course was better, Kuroo can’t help finding your expression adorable as you start to laugh, a bright tone that has your cheeks puffing out ever so slightly. On his right, Yaku simply rolls his eyes at his clearly captivated classmate, watching for a moment before pushing him towards the court’s sideline with a knowing look. “I’ll get the rest of the shagged volleyballs and put them away, because clearly you’re not going to be much help.”

Ignoring the lighthearted jab thrown by the libero, Kuroo takes advantage of his offer and quickly starts on his way over to you, still standing on the outer edges of painted court with a smile so pretty it just might kill him. You note that his tall stature only becomes more apparent when he stops only a foot away from the sideline, reminded once again why he was chosen to be one of Nekoma’s towering middle blockers. If not for the knowledge of some of his teammates, you would have thought he was the largest player in the entire school’s sports department. He’s probably still up there, in all honesty.

“You hurt my heart with that science thing,” your boyfriend chides, bringing a hand to his chest. “I thought our bond was closer than that.”

He pouts when you huff out a laugh. “Unfortunately for you babe, I could never lie to that cute face of yours.”

“You might just regret siding with Yaku when you figure out what’s coming next.”

“Yeah well...” your sentence trails off awkwardly, contemplating what Kuroo just said with slightly furrowed brows, whereas the third year in question watches quietly as playfulness swims in his eyes. “Wait, what do you mean by—TETSUROU!”

Without a word of warning, Kuroo sweeps you off the safety of the solid gym floor and into his arms, throwing you over his shoulder with ease. He only cackles when you shriek loudly, reaching pitifully for the hem of the back of his shirt as some weaker form of revenge. He’s got a secure hold on the back of your legs despite their halfhearted flailing, running around the court’s perimeter like a middle schooler.

Anyone who walked in wouldn’t even fathom that your idiot of a boyfriend was the captain of an up-and-coming powerhouse team. You would tell him that his playfulness is a quality you loved about him, if not for the fact that you were currently hanging upside-down as a result of his antics.

“I swear Tetsu, as soon as you put me down I am going to kick your ass!” you warn — although the growing smile in your voice doesn’t escape the ears of your ‘captor’.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep you like this then,” he hums, chuckling when you whine exasperatedly.

“But I still have to give the boys the snacks I brought for today!”

At the news of food, the remainder of Nekoma’s team perked up, a good number of them already watching your shenanigans as they finished cleaning.

“Fuck yeah!” Yamamoto cheered from across the floor. “Have I ever mentioned how much cooler you are than Kuroo?”

“What the hell, Tora?” the captain of topic snapped back, turning on his heel and making you squeak from the sudden change in direction. “I thought I was your favorite upperclassman!”

“Nah, that’s Kai,” he waves dismissively, sending you and Yaku into another fit of laughter.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, “you just keep getting thrown under the bus today, huh?”

Kuroo sways your still-suspended body lightly in retaliation. “Do you want me to hold you like a sack of potatoes for longer? Because just for that I will.”

“Ugh, please no more. I can feel the blood rushing to my head now.”

With that statement, he gently picks you up by the waist and brings you down, keeping his hold there as you wobble slightly on your own two feet. You meet his eyes with a partially twisted expression, nose scrunched up as you try to regain composure. “Gimme a minute.”

He only grins softly back at you, bringing one hand up to smooth out your tousled hair. “I might have overdone it that time; sorry kitten.”

“It’s alright — I thought it was fun for the most part, but now you might actually have to carry me for a second.”

“Wanna help me hand out the food you brought for the team, and I can have you on my back?” he offers, and he quickly crouches down when you nod affirmatively.

You hop on easily, Kuroo having no problem hoisting you up and waving the rest of the Nekoma boys over to the sidelines where the bag of nikuman still sits. Lev is the first one to bound over at the mention of snacks, and he smiles warmly at you before scouring through the available assortment of meat buns.

“I ‘dunnow how you put up wiff him tsum-times,” the tall Russian first year remarks as he stuffs his mouth full.

“The first time I agree with Lev on something,” Kenma murmurs as he approaches the gathering group of players, and Kuroo snorts at their mutual agreement.

“For your information, I’m a great boyfriend, thank you very much. Isn’t that right, babe?”

From a comfortable spot against his shoulder, you hum in agreement with the third year’s words, gently pressing your cheek against his. “He’s pretty alright, I suppose. Better when he’s not carrying me around like a ton of bricks.”

Kuroo snickers, offering the paper bag he holds out to an awaiting Fukunaga in front of you. “Maybe just piggyback rides like this from now on, then.”

“Sounds good to me.”

[zemodaddy]

Shades of Him

Chapter 6

I just wanna say I’m sorry.

Warnings: violence, swearing, fluff

Word count:

Chapter 6

You follow the girl into a building which supposed to house Karli. She points to a doorway signalling that she’s just up ahead. “You got ten minutes, then we’re doing things my way” Walker pushes Zemo against a wall and handcuffs him to some kind of machinery. “Aggressive, but I get it” You try your best to ignore the urge to send Walker flying out of a window. “Go ahead Sam, we’ll stay here” you say.

You all wait in silence. Bucky and you blocking the doorway that Sam went through, Zemo restrained opposite you, Leemar was sat on a ledge and Walker kept on walking up and down. He was restless, he hated not being in control. A woman having dominance over him must irk him to the core. You smile to yourself. You look at Zemo to find him looking at you already. He tilted his head lightly, glanced at Walker, and grinned in amusement as if to say ‘what’s wrong with this guy’. You shake your head widening your smile.

Walker now walks up to Bucky and you, looking over your shoulders as if he could see through walls and see Sam. “No no no this is a bad idea” he states, walking away again. “Sit tight john it hasn’t been ten minutes yet” Bucky says calmly. “Don’t do that, don’t patronise me” what is with this dude. “He knows what he’s doing” you say. After a second Walker goes “I’m goin in”. You both stop him, yet he’s persistent. “Your partner needs back up in there, do you really want his blood on your hands?”

“Bucky really?” He had let Walker and his friend pass. Luckily you had snipped the keys to Zemos handcuffs from his pocket before he left. After discreetly tossing them to Zemo you follow Bucky after Walker. A commotion was already happening between him, Sam and Karli. Fuck. Karli looked betrayed by Sam and quickly started running for the nearest door. Bucky pushes past everyone and follows her.

“See what you did Johnny” you shout. He flings the shield at you to which you duck. He is really testing your patience. Before you could find the best way to take him out he had already disappeared after Karli. “That little git”. You run after him.

Arriving just in time, you find Zemo smashing some blue vials on the ground. Walker was taking a few swift steps towards him before lifting his shield to Zemos head. Correction, Steve’s shield. Before you could stop him he launches it. “What the hell, Walker” you rush over to Zemo who now lay on the floor. However, while examining his face for any serious damage you don’t notice Walker bending down and picking the one vial that wasn’t destroyed.

Luckily, Zemo wasn’t hurt, just knocked out. You move to Walker and as he turns around you punch him in the face. “You’re going to regret that” he says. You laugh “am I?” you summon flames into your hands, daring him to make his move. At the sight of your hands he seemed to back down a little. The others rush in. “What did we miss?”

“Somethings not right about Walker” Bucky walks into the main kitchen/lounge area. “Yeah he’s batshit crazy.” You say, earning a chuckle from Sam. Zemo was lying on one of the couches, with a wet flannel you had given him upon your return to his house on his face. “You shouldn’t have given him the shield” Bucky aims this statement at Sam. “I didn’t give him the shield.” “Well Steve definitely didn’t.” You were walking over to Zemo to check on his face when the front doors fly open. “Fucking hell”

“Alright that’s it let’s go, I’m ordering you to had him over.” Walker struts into your space. “That’s not going to happen”you say. Zemo gets up behind you and begins to walk to the outer edge of the room. “Shield or no shield the only think your running in here is your mouth” sam says. You follow Zemo and whisper “this can’t be good”. Seconds after you say this a loud thud noise sounds. A long spear had wedged itself before Walker into the wall. The Dora Milaje enter. “Release him to us now” Zemo seems to be in high demand today. “Hi, John Walker, captain America” the leader doesn’t say a word. “Well, uh let’s put down the pointy sticks” “you might want to fight Bucky before fighting the Dora milaje Johnny boo” you say. “Yeah well the Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here”. Now the woman speaks “the Dora milaje have jurisdiction wherever they find themselves to be”

A fight was to be expected. Walker gave them too little credit. “We should do something” Sam voices. “Looking strong John” Bucky shouts over the chaos. You pour yourself a drink while watching everyone fight. It didn’t seem fitting to I interrupt them just yet. Bucky and Sam had now got themselves involved meaning that they’d probably need back up soon. However you hadn’t notice Zemo slip into a bathroom and lock the doors behind him, you were too focused on wondering who to help.

You decide to aid Sam in his struggle against one of the Dora Milaje. She overpowered him way to easily. After some struggling both parties stopped fighting as the leader found that Zemo had left. Somehow Bucky’s arm had been removed and was lying on the floor. They soon left leaving you all of bit dishevelled. Walker looked as if he’d dropped his favourite toy in the toilet.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El chapo” the three of you were gazing at the uncovered hole in the bathroom which Zemo had escaped through. “I can” Bucky says. “Ill follow him, you guys focus on Karli” “no” they both say at the same time. “I can track him and make sure he is secured while you guys finish the mission” there was no other way and they both knew it. “Fine, but be careful.”

You waste no time in finding Zemo. However, instead of going underground, you follow the tracker Bucky had placed on him when he first escaped from prison. He had travelled far already. By the looks of the screen in front of you he was heading for Sokovia. He knew he was being tracked, yet used his one opportunity of freedom to visit his old home. You guess it was time to ask another favour from your old friend.

“Hey Sharon its me again.” You speak into your phone “Y/n? Is something wrong” “Zemo snuck out and I’m finding him now but he’s in the air” “Do you happen to have a plane I could borrow?” You hear Sharon sigh over the phone. “Head to your nearest airstrip, ill get one ready” “Thank you so much I owe you one Sharon” “The things I do for you three” you could hear the eye roll in her voice.

As promised, you find yourself on a jet plane, heading for Sokovia. You receive an alert on your phone. It read ‘Captain America brutally murders civilian’. “What” you knew he was insane but you certainly didn’t expect this. You quickly dial for Sam. “What happened?” You couldn’t get the words out quick enough. “We went to talk to Karli but Walker followed. Leemar got killed in action and he went mad” “Shit are you guys okay?” “Yeah, Karli got away though. Have you found Zemo?” “I’m nearly at his location” “Okay, we’ll meet you there” and he hung up.

The Dora Milaje must be searching for Zemo too, so you had to get to him first. Finally, the plane lands. You knew exactly where he would be, it was obvious, you didn’t have to check the tracker. The whole of the flight you thought over some options on how to get Zemo away from the Dora. Each time you came to the same conclusion. They would never stop searching for him, not until he breathes his last breath.

You find Zemo standing in front of the memorial that was built for the grieving friends and families after Ultron. You walk next to him. “I thought you’d be here sooner” he says. You ignore him and wrap your arms around his torso. Theres no other options you remind yourself. He places his arms around your shoulders. “I can’t believe you slipped away unnoticed like that” “That house has many secret escape systems, I just used that situation to my advantage” he certainly did. You part from him a little, creating enough space for you to lean into a kiss. “Sam and Bucky are on their way here, and so are the Dora” you press your forehead against his, both your hands leant against his chest. He looks down. You don’t have the strength to look into his eyes.

“We can leave, together, right now.” You stroke the back of his head. “I know”. “Will you come with me?” You sigh parting from him a little further. “Do you trust me, Helmut?” Tears begin to fill your eyes. It felt like a million knives were stabbing into your heart. You knew what you had to do but every inch of your body told you not do it. You hug him one last time and whisper “Close your eyes”. “Why are you cry-“ “Helmut please” you cut him off. The fight against yourself was hard enough already.

He does as you say. You press a kiss between his eyebrows and slowly move way from him. You walk 3 or 4 meters before turning to face Zemo. Reaching behind your back you pull out the cold, black weapon from your strap. You hesitate before pointing the barrel of the gun towards the man you had come to trust despite his past. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as you place a finger on the trigger. A single tear slips down your cheek as you stand there, your arm raised. Time seems to slow, it didn’t feel real anymore.

Never had you imagined it would come to this but he left you no other choice. An aircraft flies over head; Sam and Bucky must have arrived. “Y/n what are you-“ Zemo was looking at you now. You have waited too long. His eyes widen when he realises what you wanted to do.

“I’m sorry” you pull the trigger.

@killsandthrills @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @noavengers @arianalilyblack @your-pixels-are-showing @kenna-1904 @mochminnie @the-lil-spud @starssscary @safiakillspop

[oneisallallisone]

All I Know, All I Know Greedling x Reader fic Chapter 3

In a land ruled by alchemy, there are some who would call you a sorcerer. You intend to understand what this means. Along your journey you end up getting mixed up with two strange brothers, a military conspiracy, a potentially world-ending event, and the avarice of something more than human.

Previous

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

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All I Know, All I Know

Chapter 3: What Is and What Isn’t

You, Edward, and Alphonse made your way to the Fifth Laboratory under the blanket of night. Standing in the shadows of a nearby alleyway, you surveyed the scene; a few street lamps were on, illuminating a quiet road and a ‘Keep Out’ sign that was posted in front of the laboratory. Also posted in front of the facility was an armed Central soldier. 

“A guard stationed outside of a supposedly abandoned building,” Ed observed, low enough for only you and Al to hear. 

You frowned. “Definitely strange.” 

“So, how do we get in?” Al asked. 

The three of you snuck closer to the wall that surrounded the laboratory, hugging one of the sides that was in the guard’s blindspot. 

“We could use alchemy?” Ed suggested. 

Al shook his head. “The light from the transmutic reaction would give us away.” 

“Is there a way we could go over?” you wondered. 

Ed studied the height of the wall. “Hey Al, give me a boost.” 

Al cupped his hands together and flung his brother up to the top of the wall. Once there, Ed grabbed the barbed wire with his automail hand and cut a line to send back down to you and Al. 

“You can hold onto me if you want to, so the wire doesn’t hurt you,” Al offered. 

“That’s very kind of you,” you said, taking his hand. 

Ed pulled the two of you up to the top of the wall and wasted no time jumping down to the lawn surrounding the Fifth Laboratory. Al leapt after him, somehow landing just as quietly as his brother. You doubted you could land as gracefully, having never been trained in any sort of martial art and not knowing the correct way to fall. 

From the grass below, Ed looked back up at you. He raised an eyebrow. 

Your power wanted to fly through your fingertips again. You could feel it; rising up to meet you as you were rising up to meet a challenge. With a calm exhale you jumped, and, right before you hit the ground, soft purple waves rippled from your hands and slowed your fall. 

Ed almost had a smile on his face. “Nicely done.” 

You nodded in thanks. 

Al led the way to what appeared to be the front door, but the three of you found it was boarded up and blocked off by more rows of barbed wire. 

“Man, they must be hiding something big in there,” Ed said. 

Your stomach sank a little. The closer you got to the lab, the more it felt like you were sticking your nose in a place it didn’t certainly belong. Al pointed over to a grate embedded in the side of the building. 

“There!” 

On Al’s shoulders, the young state alchemist was able to pry the grate off the wall and toss it aside. “Al, you need to wait out here. (Y/n) and I can continue on.” 

“You two will be fine?” Al asked. 

“Whether we will or won’t isn’t really the question,” Ed said, already climbing into the duct. “You’re too big to fit in here.” 

“Well I didn’t ask to get this big,” Al said, dejected, as he helped you into the crawl-space after Ed. 

You and Ed crawled in silence for a while, nothing but the dark and a few cobwebs surrounding you. You’d never experienced a particular moment of claustrophobia before, but it was unnerving being pressed in on all sides like this. 

“Damn it’s an even tighter squeeze than I thought,” Ed said. “If I was regular sized I probably wouldn’t even be able to get through.” 

A tense beat of silence struck the air. 

“DAMMIT I JUST CALLED MYSELF SHORT—” 

“Ed!” you hissed. “Shut up! What happened to us ‘not getting caught’?” 

“Right, oh, right. Sorry.” 

A few moments passed before you and Ed came upon another grate, this one bolted to the floor of the duct. The alchemist kicked through it, and you and he jumped down into the hallway below. The corridor was almost as dim as the crawl space, save for some faint yellow lights along the ground. 

“‘Abandoned building’ my ass,” Ed said. 

“Do you think anyone’s here right now?” 

“No way to tell for sure. Just stay on your guard.” 

The energy you carried surged beneath your skin on instinct. “Right.” 

The symbol on the ground was composed of circles and pentagons all nestled within each other. In the center was a cylindrical altar that bore more alchemic iconography. Blood, dark and crusted with age, was splattered in many areas around the large outer circle. 

“What is all this…?” you asked, dull horror filling your core. 

“I’m not sure,” Ed said. “But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s what they used to transmute a Philosopher’s Stone.” 

“That is correct.” A third voice. From the shadows. 

You and Ed turned quickly to see a figure emerging from a hall on the other side of the room. He wore heavy plate armor and a helmet covered his face. “I don’t know who you fools are,” he continued, “But you’ve figured out a lot just by looking at a transmutation circle.” 

“Yeah, I’m just good like that. Who are you, pal?” Ed snarked back. 

The man’s armor clanked as he spoke. “The one in charge of guarding this place from curious brats like you. Let’s just say my name is Number 48. And believe me, I am not your ‘pal.’ My orders are to dispose of anyone who ventures in. Try not to take it personally.” 

“Alright, I won’t,” Ed said. He clapped his hands together and the blue light of an alchemic reaction flashed through the air. His automail arm extended into a large blade. “As long as you don’t take it personally when this ‘fool’ kicks your ass!” 

“You’re an alchemist, are you?” Number 48 said. With speed you didn’t think possible, the armored man lunged towards Ed. It was like he crossed the span of twenty feet in the blink of an eye. “Let’s see what you’ve got, then.” He swung his massive two-haded sword high over his head. 

In one motion, Ed pushed you out of the way and leapt backwards from the guard. He blocked the tip of the sword with his automail arm, and the knight stumbled back. 

“It seems your automail just saved your life,” Number 48 said. “No matter, my sword can pierce steel as well as flesh.” He rushed at Ed again. 

“Wait!” you screamed. Extending your hand forward, partially reaching for Ed and partially focusing your vitality, a violet blast of energy sprung from your hand towards the man in the armor. It struck him in the shoulder and he spun from the impact. 

“Another alchemist?” he pondered, turning towards you. 

Wide-eyed, chest heaving from the outburst of power, you shrugged. “Sure?” 

Number 48 changed direction and charged you next. It was instinctive, what you did. Raising both hands in front of you like a shield, only to watch your energy take shape and mold an actual shield in front of you. The barrier was small, just barely enough to stop the guard’s sword from piercing your heart, but it held strong. 

“No…” Number 48 said. “This is not alchemy. What a strange opponent you make, but how excited I am to fight someone like you.”

To your dismay, the sturdiness of your shield began to diminish as Number 48 dug his blade in harder. Nothing about the position of your hands and body had changed, so you weren’t sure why it was shrinking. But you clenched your jaw in the vain effort to keep it intact. 

Ed landed a swift kick to the guard’s torso, knocking him away from you. You allowed your shield to fall. Gave yourself a brief moment to heave more air into your lungs. And then stood tall next to the fullmetal alchemist again. 

“Have you seen something like this before?” you called to Number 48, despite your better judgement. 

To your surprise, he remained where he was. “No. But I’ve fought enough alchemists to know what is alchemy and what isn’t.” 

“Well, speaking of what people are and aren’t,” Ed interjected, “I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that you’re hollow inside?” 

“Very perceptive.” 

“I could tell by the sound,” Ed said. “I spar against someone like you all the time.” 

You turned towards Ed. “Wait, so you’re saying he’s—” 

“Just like Al,” Ed nodded. 

“So there are people like me on the outside?” Number 48 asked, a strange earnestness in his voice. 

“Unfortunately.” Ed said. “It makes me sick to think there was another idiot out there who came up with the idea of bonding a disembodied soul to a suit of armor.” 

“Perhaps I need to re-introduce myself, then,” the guard said. “48 was the number I was assigned when I was a prisoner on death row. Back when I had a living body, I was known as Slicer the mass murderer.” 

“Tell me something, then,” Ed started. “Does this laboratory use condemned prisoners to make Philosopher Stones?” 

“That I cannot tell you. I was simply recognized for my skills and appointed to be a guard dog of this place. Now then,” he shifted back into a battle-ready stance. “Which one of you would like the pleasure of being killed first?”

[collecting-stories]

One Sunset - c. 08 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Your birthday keeps getting closer.

A/N: Two more chapters to go! 

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ Oh, my love, she waits, so long overdue ✰

The baby, Hope, the youngest, so far, of your sister’s six children, was propped on your hip. Clingy, she pressed her face against your collar, head tucked in your neck as you bounced just slightly from foot to foot. She‘s been crying when Esther handed her off, a passing comment that “there was something different about you” as she rejoined the conversation your older siblings were having. You carried Hope outside when the fussing started again, threatening to interrupt your father’s reading from the bible before dinner. She wasn’t the youngest of all the babies there, Jubilee’s son took that honor, being just three months, but Hope was the most restless.  

“You used to be like that,” your mother teased, coming out to bring you a bottle for Hope as she squirmed in your lap. You’d settled with sitting under the tree in the yard, letting your niece tear through the grass.  

“Destructive?” You asked, looking up through the sunlight to her.  

Ever since JJ had mentioned the possibility of leaving you had been thinking about what it would look like when you were gone. Knowing what was in store if you stayed, you had given leaving your mom and dad a lot of thought anyway. It would be just them in the house, plenty of grandchildren to take care of but just the two of them at night when everyone else went home. You would miss it, but it was these moments, so rare now that you were the last left in the house, that you would miss most of all.  

“Restless, unsatisfied.” The adjective stung when she said it, as if she resented the trait even in a baby. “The minute you were steady on your feet, you used to take off.”  

“Maybe I was just curious about everything around me?” You suggested, that bizarre fear that she knew something settling in your stomach. It was the same queasy feeling you used to get when you were little and you would lie, certain your mother would know.  

She nodded, though it was not in agreement, “and what does the bible say about that?”

“And he said unto them, it is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the father hath put in his own power.” You replied, all too familiar with the warning verse that your mother had kept taped to your bedroom mirror as a child, a reminder that your curiosity was as much a sin as anything else.  

“That’s right, we don’t need to concern ourselves with other, worldly things.” She replied.  

“I don’t think Hope is concerned with anything other than appreciating God’s creation,” you joked, an attempt to lighten the mood, as you looked down at Hope sill pulling at the grass and then staring in wonder at her dirty hands.  

“I’m not talking about Hope, I found a…very revealing outfit tucked under your bed along with a sweatshirt I’ve never seen in the house before.” She said, playing her cards. She did know something she wasn’t letting on, just as you had suspected. It was better than you thought, something you could play off easily.  

“They’re Kiara’s. She wore the dress on Sunday and I told her it was too revealing for church so she came in and changed. And the sweatshirt is her…boyfriend’s, she had it with her.” You lied. The dress was the one that JJ bought for you. For almost three weeks, since he’d first suggested it, you had been packing and unpacking a duffel bag, certain that you wanted to go but then unsure at the same time.  

Your mother’s observation of you was probably right, you were restless. They had raised you the same way they raised your siblings and yet, nothing about the church seemed to comfort you. It made you discontent just exist in the space sometimes but you had always assumed it was because of some deep fault of your own. Some sin you weren’t consciously aware of that ensnared you. Restlessness would follow you forever, it felt like. But then you’d never felt restless with JJ or Kiara or Pope. You never felt like you were trying to fit into something that wasn’t made for you.  

“I didn’t realize she had a boyfriend.” The tone was back, the disapproving one that silently conveyed the underlying meaning of her sentence. If your mom had known, she would not have let her hang around.  

“He’s very religious too. I think he goes to a non-denominational church,” you lied, pulling Hope’s dirty hands away from the hem of your dress.  

You had come outside with Hope because you wanted to be alone. Her crying was the perfect excuse to separate yourself from the rest of your family but then your mom had followed you out here, determined, it felt like, to deny you any moment alone.

“Your good with the kids,” she ventured, “It’ll only be a couple of years before you’re having little ones of your own.”  

“That’s what Esther said when she handed me Hope.” You replied lifting the baby with you as you stood up. There was no point in trying to hold onto your attempts at relaxation. Babies had been all your mother wanted to talk about since Timothy’s visit to the house. She couldn’t stop herself from mentioning your future imaginary family. “How did you and dad know you wanted to have kids?”

“We prayed and fasted and the Lord answered us by giving us Faith and I knew then that he was telling me to leave my womb in his hands.” She replied as you fought the urge to roll your eyes at the response, “How many kids you have is something you’ll have to talk about with Timothy but God will guide you.”  

“Yeah, I guess so.” You shifted Hope in your arms as she babbled, her dirty hands gripping your cardigan.  

Maybe JJ lying to you should have been the push that you needed to embrace this idea of Timothy and Zambia and the twelve children he was probably going to expect you to have. It should’ve put you back on the path of the Lord, that “most righteous” path, as your father called it during Sunday service. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just close off the part of you that loved JJ so much that you considered running away with him. He had lied but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that all of it was a lie. There were parts of it, you were certain, that had to be true. You had been thinking about him since you left John B’s.  

“What if...” you chanced, beginning to walk back to the house with your mom, “what if Timothy isn’t who I’m meant to be with?”

“Why do you say that?” Your mom asked, stopping. She didn’t look surprised or even bothered by what you thought sounded like your usual restlessness.  

“I just think...what if I’m not a good enough wife?”

“You have to pray, and have faith in the Lord and in your husband that they will guide you down that path and help you to learn how to serve your household.” She answered.  

Hope started fussing again and your mom took her from you, proclaiming that it was most likely time for a feeding and heading back inside with her. She called over her shoulder for you to check the church, the light in the nave was on. You wanted to thank her for the moment alone but then she might’ve stuck around and questioned you further.

You walked to the church, pulling the old wooden door open and heading inside to turn off the lights in the vestibule. Your father was known to forget and leave them on and you were sure that your mother thought sending you was some subtle way of telling you that you needed to reconnect with Jesus through prayer. You weren’t so sure that was what you needed but you would take the moment alone that you had been trying to get the first time you went outside.  

Before you could hit the light switch you noticed the familiar army green backpack leaning against one of the back pews. You hadn’t seen JJ since you left John B’s house but that was his backpack, sitting in the middle aisle. There wasn’t any reason for JJ’s bag to be in the church but you walked toward it anyway, curious as to its existence in that space at that moment.  

The bag, you quickly discovered, was not without its owner. JJ laid there on the bench, asleep, from what you could tell, his lip split and a horrifying bruise under his left eye. You knelt down by the edge of the pew, brushing his hair away from his face so you could see him better. Just the sight of him had your heart pounding.

“Oh my god, JJ,” you whispered, laying your hand on his arm. “JJ.”

He groaned, shifting on the pew before opening his eyes slowly, a smile gracing his features as he saw you there in front of him, the cut on his lip bleeding slightly at the motion. “Hey Ace.”

“JJ, what happened?” You asked, moving to sit next to him as he sat up. Maybe you should have been more apprehensive with him, considering what John B had told you, but all you could think about was the bruising on his face. You’d seen less noticeable bruising before that JJ had always brushed off and maybe it was unrelated but your mind was drawing connections as you looked him over, noting the large purplish mark peeking out from the arm of the cut-off shirt he was wearing.  

“Nothing,” he swore, shaking his head and shifting away from you slightly. “I’m sorry, I just needed to crash for a few hours.”  

When you reached for him again and he moved back, you felt an ache. He looked battered and you didn’t care about what sort of bet he made, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that for the last few days you had been thinking about him. “JJ, please, tell me what happened?” you asked, taking his hand in yours before he could stop you.  

“I fucked up everything.” He replied, leaning back against the pew and closing his eyes. “I didn’t...I should’ve told you about-”

-

Despite Pope’s attempts to reason with him, to remind him that the last person on earth you probably wanted to see was him, JJ couldn’t stop himself from moving forward with his original plan. He had offered you a way out and, whether you wanted it with him or at all, he was going to come through on that promise. He loved you and maybe it was selfish but he couldn’t stand the thought of you going to Tennessee.  

JJ almost never went home but he did a few nights after you had run off, after Kiara told him that you’d come to see her, he went back home again to get the keys for his dad’s boat. Luke always kept the keys on him and JJ hadn’t actually been on the boat since he was a little kid. The first time he had smoked weed when he was twelve and his cousin took him on the Phantom for a joy ride down the coast to buy some specially cut stuff from a friend of a friend. He had let JJ smoke it on the way home and the probably broken rib that he’d suffered the week before suddenly didn’t hurt half as bad.  

He wasn’t stealing the keys for a joyride this time though. He was stealing keys to get you as far away from the Outer Banks as he could. Pope had reasoned that you hadn’t really ever made up your mind and that by now you had probably definitely decided not to go off with some guy on a whim, but JJ had to believe you were still leaning toward going with him.  

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up.” Luke chided, sitting at his work bench. If there was anything that JJ knew about his father, it was that Luke could sit in front of his work table all day and nothing would ever actually get done.  

“I’m only here to grab some stuff.”  

If he said nothing, it caused an issue. If he said something, it caused an issue. JJ had spent enough years in his father’s home to know that it didn’t matter what he did, if Luke was in a mood then there was nothing, he could do to avoid it. And usually, he would just make his visit a short one but he needed that key and that key was hanging off his dad’s neck.  

It took Luke a couple beers and a trip down to Barry’s trailer before he confronted JJ’s return home with more than a snide remark. It started off with shouting about the electric bill when he tried to hit the light switch in the living room and realized that the darkness was unescapable. And that, of course, like all the other bad things that existed in his life, was JJ’s fault.  

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to do something before you actually do it?” He screamed, a string of insults following that would stay trapped in JJ’s head for what would arguably be the rest of his life. The rage was just what JJ needed though, his dad was erratic, distracted, and close enough that when he shoved JJ against the wall and tried to choke him, the key was in reach.  

He had the key and when he finally got his dad off him, he ran for the door, grabbing his bag and running through the woods. Still not talking to John B, he knew there weren’t too many places for him to go. He stayed on the beach for a while but then moved on, heading to the one place he knew he wasn’t technically welcome. JJ had seen your family’s cars in the yard and had ducked into the church, falling asleep on one of the pews.  

It wasn’t like you could’ve contacted him, you had no phone and you couldn’t exactly get away easily during the day and maybe that was what made it so easy for him to convince himself that he wasn’t beyond forgiveness. He needed to talk to you, had wanted to for days now. He needed to explain things to you, make you understand that he did love you and the bet was stupid, a mistake that he wanted to take back more than anything in the world.  

-

“JJ, I don’t care about any of that right now,” you said, brushing hair away from his face. “What happened?”

He sat up a little, pulling the makeshift necklace out beneath his shirt, the keys to the Phantom hanging there around his neck. “I got the keys.” He replied, “I don’t know if you even would still want to go, but I got the keys.”  

“Is that how this happened?” You asked, eyes still on his bruised face and not the keys he was holding up.  

“It doesn’t matter-”

You cut him off, “it does matter, JJ-”

“No.” He insisted, “no, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to base anything on feeling bad for me.” JJ had spent his whole life trying to make sure that nobody felt bad for him. Sympathy, charity, pity, it was all just fake and he hated it. He did everything he could to be sure that no one ever knew what kind of father Luke was because he never wanted them to look at him like he was broken.  

“I don’t want you to hurt.” You admitted, kissing his cheek.  

JJ didn’t protest the affection, though he wanted to laugh. Here he was with you worrying about him, telling him that you didn’t want to see him hurt while he had hurt you. For days he felt like he had been plagued by that moment, replaying the way you looked at him when you asked him if John B was telling the truth. Kiara told him to give you space and Pope told him to take things slowly but all he wanted was to be with you again, to make everything right.  

“You shouldn’t even want to talk to me right now.” He said, rubbing his hands over his eyes.  

“My propensity for forgiveness might surprise you.” You teased, then shrugged, “I don’t think that you lied to me about...about being in love with me,” you chewed on your bottom lip as you spoke, “I mean, I hope not-”

“I wasn’t.” JJ replied. “If Sarah hadn’t bet me to ask you out, I wouldn’t have, but everything else was real. I know I should’ve told you...I just, didn’t want you to look at me the way you did after John B told you. Everyone else already looks at me that way, I didn’t want you to. I’m so sorry.” It seemed like the only logical thing to say to you.  

The door to the chapel creaked open and JJ slid down to the floor as you stood up, moving down the aisle to keep whoever it was out of the church. Your dad stood there at the entrance, holding the door open with his foot as he caught sight of you. “There you are, your mom sent me out to find you, she said she asked you to turn the lights out here.”

“I was,” you replied, moving closer to him, “I just, stopped for a moment to sit in prayer.” An easy lie, one your parents were always all too willing to believe.  

He nodded, “do you need another moment? Some fellowship?”  

“No, no, I’m okay.” You promised. “I’ll be right there.”

The door swung shut behind him as he stepped back out of the church. You knew he’d be just on the other side of the door, waiting for you to turn off the lights and follow him in for dinner. Knowing the limited amount of time you had, you ran back down the aisle to where JJ was just standing up.  

JJ’s eyes went wide as you grabbed his collar and quickly pulled him into a kiss, “I have dinner with my family, come to my room tonight?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “yeah okay.”

As you left him you flicked the lights casting him in darkness as he dropped back down onto the bench, a small smile etched on his face. He’d come to the church because he needed to be close to you, especially after his encounter with Luke. But JJ had honestly thought that things between you were irreparable. Knowing they weren’t felt better than he could’ve imagined. Like he was floating above clouds. Stupid to think maybe but he didn’t care.  

-

JJ’s muscles tensed as you traced your fingers beneath a nasty purple bruise that stretched across his stomach to his side. You leaned over him, hovering like a ghost in the stillness, and placed a kiss just over the discolored skin, eliciting goosebumps over his skin.  

He stayed camped out in the chapel until the lights went off in the house and your family left for the night. There were too many smaller units these days to accommodate everyone when they came home to visit but your father was friends with a local motel owner who always gave him a good deal. JJ had tried to stay alert and awake but he’d fallen asleep, getting up later when the lights were off and sneaking across the yard to your window, knocking and hoping that you answered. That you meant it when you said you still believed he loved you.  

Your parents were asleep down the hall from your room and he knew that trying anything would be risky and dangerous but being back in your room again since the last time, since he’d slept with you, it was almost as if a switch went off for both of you. He climbed through the window and was already grabbing at your waist, pulling you into a kiss as you led him to your bed.  

He breathed out apologies and “I love you’s” between kisses, making sure that he took every opportunity to remind you both how sorry he was and how much he had missed being close to you in the few days apart. JJ had tried to tell himself that if you chose to stay with your family, he would be okay and understanding and he would force himself to be but he knew that he was lying to himself, if things ended between the two of you, he wasn’t sure how he would cope. Maybe that was unhealthy but he really didn’t care at all.  

“I was thinking, we could go to Florida,” you said, keeping your voice down as you sat on the bed, JJ’s shirt keeping you warm. He was laying on his back, covers pushed down to his waist, one hand behind his head and the other resting on your thigh.  

“Why Florida?” He asked.  

In all honesty it wasn’t that Florida was anything particularly special it was just that you were trying your hardest to think of anything to say so you didn’t start crying. When you’d seen him in the church earlier you had almost lost it and that was with only his face visible. The bruising on his stomach and sides made you feel ill. “I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to go to South Beach.”  

JJ grinned, hand squeezing your thigh, “you on a topless beach? Yes, please.”

“How about I conquer a two piece before I attempt going topless?” You joked, taking his hand in yours.  

“I don’t know, you look pretty hot...” he said, moving his other hand from behind his head and grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it up passed your chest. You swatted his hand away, stifling a laugh. The sound of it made him smile though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, that flicker of sadness still there behind them. There was nothing he wanted more than being here with you but he couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling of guilt that settled in.  

“What’s the matter?” You asked, registering the change in his demeanor before he was even fully aware of it himself.  

“Nothing, I-” he sighed, shifting around to sit up in bed, “I should have told you. About the bet, about my dad. I just...I know, under the surface, I’m not the most likable person. I’m loud and I smoke too much and I drink too much and I’m not that smart and I just...really wanted you to like me. So I didn’t say anything. And I know that’s not an excuse-”

“JJ,” you cut him off, “I was mad that you lied and didn’t tell me about the bet but that doesn’t change the way that I feel about you. And it doesn’t change the way I know you feel about me.” It was hard to explain, it had been hard to explain to Kiara when you had shown up crying at her house, but you didn’t think that JJ was lying to you about the whole of your relationship. He said he loved you and you believed him, there wasn’t a single moment that felt unreal to you in that sense, whether he had asked you out because of a bet or not. “You said you only asked me out because of the bet but everything else was real and I believe you.”

“I don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.”  

“Stop trying to sell yourself short.” You replied, leaning forward to kiss him, “it won’t work.”

Before he could answer you, the floor creaked and the you both looked toward the door as footsteps sounded down the hall. The light by your desk was still on and the footsteps came to a stop outside your bedroom door, a knock sounding, followed by your dad’s voice. “Ace, you awake in there?”  

You pulled JJ’s shirt off, grabbing your nightdress and putting it on as you got off the bed and went over to the door. “Yeah, hold on!” You were thankful that the door opened in, obscuring the twin bed from view. “Sorry, I was having trouble sleeping so I was just up reading some verses.” You lied.  

“Hmm,” your dad nodded, easily convinced, “what were you reading?”

“1st Peter, 4...uh, ‘and above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.’ Just felt like something I really needed tonight.” You replied.  

“That is a good one,” he contemplated, “I told your mom I’ve been a little stuck on the sermon for this coming weekend...it’s a big one, with Timothy’s family visiting and your birthday. But maybe I’ll put some focus on that verse, see if the Lord speaks to me about it.”  

“I’ll pray on it as well,” you promised, twisting the doorknob in your hand as you waited for your father to decide to head back to bed.  

“I’m just grabbing some water, do you need anything?” He asked, looking toward the kitchen.  

“No, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you replied, stepping forward to give him a hug, “love you, see you in the morning.”

“Love you too Ace,” he said, leaving you and heading to the kitchen.  

You shut the door to your room, blocking out the rest of the world again and nearly jumping when you turned and found JJ standing right there beside you. “My dad could’ve seen you,” you whispered, pushing him away when he tried to wrap his arms around you.  

“He didn’t.” JJ replied, voice low. His hand darted out from his side, grabbing the front of your nightdress before you could get away, using the leverage it gave him to pull you back to the bed. He flicked the light off on your desk lamp on the way to the bed, sitting when the back of his knees hit the mattress.  

“What are you doing?” you asked when he started to pull the nightdress over your head again.  

“Undressing you.”  

“JJ,” you fought a smile, biting your bottom lip, “you need to go...that was way too close.”  

He pouted in the dark, letting your nightdress fall back into place as he laid his hands on your hips. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I can walk to Heyward’s in the afternoon?” You offered. “Timothy and his family will be here on Wednesday...”

“When’s the party?” He asked, trying not to let himself dwell on the actual question, were you staying or were you going?  

“Saturday evening...I don’t know what to do.” You admitted. It was leaving home either way but one of those included the possibility of never speaking to your family again.  

“It’s your decision. I love you, either way.” JJ promised.  

-

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[vostokovasmelina]

— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢  |  𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson

word count: 3.1k+

warning: mentions and descriptions of alcohol, death, grief, trauma, therapy, depression – i call this post-snap realism

series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.

a/n: the ending is a dark unedited mess, so proceed with caution

Taking a cautious sip of your hot beverage, you watched this absolute gatecrasher of a man trying to make up his mind about whatever he was so confused about – Sam kept looking all around your apartment as if searching for something he had left there, his slightly lost and disoriented expression sending a sudden wave of guilt rushing over you. Now that you thought about it, it really must have sucked absolute cheese for him to come home hoping he could finally have that huge cup of strong black coffee he had been anticipating ever since having defeated that enormous purple bastard from Outer Space, only to find that his coffee machine was long gone and now this random lady with a philodendron problem and a judgmental cat were inhabiting the place with absolutely no room left for him whatsoever. It did sound tragic when you put it that way.

However, it really wasn’t your fault that you had needed to find a brand new residence approximately five years before. He really should have checked in with someone to make sure he still had somewhere to go home to. You were quite clearly the real victim here. And Lord only knew how poor Archie was going to process all the excitement of the day.

For a few seconds, you contemplated whether or not to put your thoughts into words, and eventually decided against it for the time being. The man had just helped save the world a few days before, after all, and out of what? Good conscience? Personally not for you, but you could appreciate it in others. And it would have been a real shame to die right when your fan-favourite succulents and killer new posting schedule had been attracting more Instagram followers than ever before. Thanks to the savior complex flaming inside of the gentleman standing before you though, the regular civilian had luckily escaped such terrible hardships. And special thanks to approximately a thousand and one other superheroes. Oh, and to an African country filled with similarly public-spirited people.

For a few awkwardly long seconds neither of you said a word. Sam kept looking around and you watched him look around, slowly lowering your mug onto the table and tilting your head slightly to the left. Weird how Sarah had never mentioned the brother believed to be dead for the last five years was this handsome. It is unfair, really. Some people are just naturally gorgeous no matter the shitty kitchen lighting, that tiny confused frown that had been sitting on their face for the last half hour, or those shiny black bugs for eyes tearing up ever so slightly to snitch on a long repressed yawn.

“Now that the drama is over and the Avengers as such are non-existent – have you considered a career in modeling yet?”

Sam snapped his head towards you with such force and speed that for a moment you were afraid you’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon sewing it back on his neck. You grabbed your mug still pretty much filled to the brim with tea and raised it back up to your mouth to hide your lingering half-smile behind a faded portrait of baby Archie on the ivory porcelain.

“Just saying, I would buy anything for this face on the package alone,” you continued with the confidence of a woman who hasn’t got a single drop of shame left in her body. But it was fine ‘cos you didn’t actually mean it, right? It was all just a joke, an attempt at lightening the mood and snapping him out of his puzzled melancholy. And that tiny flutter of your heart upon hearing Sam’s perfect little chuckle was but a momentary malfunction of the organ. The incident was purely physiological. No contribution from any emotional factors. It was simply an innocent coincidence that these two, completely unrelated things had co-occured.

So when your gazes met, you didn’t tear yours away in embarrassment – you stood your ground, completely unaffected and unbothered, ignoring the increasingly hot sensation in your cheeks when you saw Sam raise a cheeky eyebrow at you. Before even more damage could have been done, however, you decided to cut the party short.

“Oh, no. Don’t get your hopes up, Birdman. I simply couldn’t keep watching you in your deeply disturbed state.”

Very, very smooth. Cleared of all suspicion. Good job.

“Wow. Okay. That was cruel,” Sam scoffed and gave emphasis to his words by bringing up his right palm dramatically to his chest, right above his now most definitely broken heart. The overall effect got ruined by an annoyingly goofy grin in the end and before you even realised, you had already reached out for your massive mug again to drown your own erupting smile in the hot liquid.

In the silence that followed, however, you saw Sam’s smile fall ever so slightly, as if exhaustion or worry were holding onto the corners of his lips, physically tugging them down, and you shifted slightly uncomfortably in your seat. It was time you had stopped messing around with the poor guy.

“Look, I know this is weird but I’m sure we can find a solution. Just call Sarah so she can stop worrying now,” you suggested, finishing your tea and pushing the now empty mug to the middle of the table before leaning back in your seat.

“Ugh, yeah,” Sam started slowly, squatting down to get his mobile and the charger out of his massive sports bag. “Can I plug this in somewhere?”

You blinked at him a couple of times while he waited patiently for your answer. You could only imagine the number of missed calls and unread texts waiting for Sam on his phone, but you decided you didn’t know him enough to give him a lecture on behalf of his sister. So you just gave him a tired nod and gestured lazily towards your battered kitchen counter, Sam following your direction with his gaze.

“Above the microwave. Oh, and the socket farthest to the left–”

“–doesn’t work. I remember.” Sam flashed another exhausted but friendly smirk at you above his shoulder, and you allowed yourself to return the gesture to his back once he wasn’t watching.

“Right, sorry. Forgot I was the intruder here,” you joked, delighted to earn another one of those irritatingly lively chuckles of this man’s.

You seriously needed to get your shit together.

“Okay, while your phone is doing its thing, let’s call Sarah from mine, I guess” you continued, jumping up from your chair the moment Sam returned to the table and you headed towards your worn little couch where you scratched Archie gently behind his right ear. “Where have you put my phone, you dirty old man?” You cooed, smiling softly while sliding your hands under the cheap cushions and booping your irritated cat’s tiny nose when your fingers finally touched the cold metal you had been looking for.

Once seated again, you caught Sam staring at Archie, his eyes slightly narrowed in what appeared to be deep concentration. You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for your uninvited guest to notice you.

“I don’t think your cat likes me too much,” he finally said, slowly tearing his gaze away from the pet feline’s and looking into your slightly more welcoming human eyes instead.

You chuckled dryly, turning around to see Archie in all his glory on the couch. He simply gave you an unbothered look before completely losing interest in the two of you, and he hopped of the couch, slowly making his way towards your bedroom where you knew he would bundle up under your bed on the cosy carpet. He had apparently decided it was time for his beauty sleep.

“Yeah, he’s like that with everyone. Nothing personal,” you assured Sam, who offered a tired half-smile in return. You cleared your throat gently, eyes fixed on your phone’s screen and fingers already searching for Sarah’s number. Once you had found it, you handed it to Sam whose only job left was to press the call button. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly and he let out a sigh while reaching out for your mobile.

* * *

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Sarah. Quite the opposite, actually. But he was embarrassed. Sam knew full well how furious his sister was going to be. And honestly, rightfully so. He couldn’t argue with that. After all, she did say there had been something she wanted to talk to him about. And Sam did hang up on her without a passable excuse. And he did let his phone die on his way back home to Louisiana.

Yeah, he most probably wasn't going to be nominated for this year's Brother of the Year award.

Their last call had happened two days before. Two days is a long time without any news from a brother who had just returned after having been believed to be dead for the past five years. And if you had been to ask him, Sam wouldn’t have been able to tell you what had gotten into him either but ever since the Blip, something had not been exactly right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on, so he hadn’t brought it up to anyone, but his brain felt slow and foggy as if it hadn't had time to catch up yet.

Sometimes, Sam worried that the molecules in his brain had been mixed up and hadn't been put back into their original places in the process of the whole turning-into-dust-and-back-into-human-form-again thing.

It was a silly thought, yes, but with everything going on in the world, would it really be that hard to believe?

"Hey hon! What's up?" Sam's thought process was cut off by the endearing voice of his sister, and though he was aware all this affection was not directed towards him – given that he had called Sarah on your phone – his heart did swell upon hearing her again.

And then he said hi and it all went south from there.

Sarah was obviously pissed.

She asked Sam if he had any idea how many texts and missed calls she had left him, and no, he had no clue but if he had to guess, the number would have been way high up in the double digits.

Then she started going off on Sam, using different kinds of actually very creative euphemisms – which was a problem because Sam got so distracted by his sister's choice of words that her short, well-thought out rant had very little effect on him, but at least he had enough self-respect left to get his sister off speaker at this point.

"Look, Sarah, I know I messed up but I'm fine! I swear," he started, cutting his sister short while subconsciously picking at the skin around the nail on his index finger with his thumb. "What if I stop by Andy's and tell him to give me their best apple pie?" Sam added, hoping this promise would serve as an ice-breaker. Sarah did love her desserts. A lot. And Andy always gave a discount to the Wilson family, too.

When he heard his sister's tired sigh, Sam's heart gave a hopeful flutter, but he was rudely dragged back onto the ground on his way to cloud nine the very next second.

"I'm doing the shopping at the moment. Just got here and it's gonna take long," Sarah replied, annoyance poking through all her words. Then, the tension that had been dominating the pair's call suddenly seemed to evaporate as Sam sensed a weak shadow of a smile in her following sentence. "But that apple pie does sound good."

Sam couldn't help the grin that creeped its way onto his face and he didn't even care about Sarah's semi-serious threat, saying how they were nowhere near finished yet. He muttered out a quick sorry again, promised Sarah to give her regards to you and finished the call with a charming 'I love you' to which his sister replied with a snarky 'I bet' before hanging up with a promise that she would call again when she got home.

Sam let out a relieved chuckle before handing you back your phone and taking the final sip of his slightly lukewarm coffee, watching your bright red-nailed fingers tap away on the device, and he swallowed harder and probably louder than he had meant to. You just happened to put your phone down the very next second, so he tried to cover up the gulp by clearing his throat and shifting his gaze from your nails to your eyes.

Beautiful eyes.

Well shit.

"So, I guess you're staying," you started hesitantly, raising your eyebrows at Sam in a slightly impatient manner, which snapped him out of his blissful thoughts and thrust him back into reality.

Was he staying? He certainly had nowhere to go now that he was practically homeless and his sister was unable to welcome him in her own home for the next two hours, at least. But then again, you were a complete stranger whose afternoon he had just disrupted, and it didn't matter how weird it felt seeing you be so at home in his apartment because it wasn't his anymore. It was yours and you had all the right to kick Sam out and he had absolutely zero right to argue.

But, thankfully, he didn't have to.

"Which is fine, by the way. I did promise you an explanation, after all." Sam couldn't quite ignore the hint of dread behind your words and he was ready to object, to leave you alone and spend the rest of his afternoon doing God-knows-what, but then you offered him another cup of coffee followed by a tiny but honest smile, and Sam just couldn't bring himself to say no.

* * *

Sam Wilson was ridiculously easy to open up to.

It made you want to commit a crime.

His gaze was so intensely warm that after a while, you were looking at everything in your apartment but him just to avoid accidentally trauma dumping on him, especially when you got to the part about group therapy.

Because you had met Sarah at a group therapy session approximately four and a half years before.

It had been clear from the very first minute that neither of you had actually wanted to be there and that both of you had been forced into this situation. Sarah had been dragged to group by an overly enthusiastic co-worker of hers whose crush on the counselor had been probably more intense than the trauma she had suffered – she had lost a dog and her neighbor to the right whom she had always talked shit about behind his back. She was a nice enough woman, but considering that people had lost actual family in the Snap, her presence had always been mostly aggravating, to say the least.

In your case, it had been your grandmother who had bullied you into going to one of the sessions because 'she had the same rotten mentality when Miss Taylor told her to go but then she found it life-changing'. At this point, you had become so indifferent to everything in the world that you hadn't needed much convincing to go. You had told yourself it would be one session anyway after which you would have told Grandma Ethel that 'therapy was simply not for you' and could have been back to your usual Thursday evening routine consisting of a cheap bottle of red wine and depressing reruns of trashy British reality shows from the late 2000s.

The actual sessions had never worked for you. They might have if you had actually spoken up at any of them but you had never become quite ready to talk about your loss in front of a dozen other people, most of whom you had already known. But then you had met Sarah and something about her had made you feel secure, secure enough to talk about them for the first time, so you had started hanging out at a café not too far from the community center and it had become the best thing in your life.

"And the rest is history," you finished, getting up from your chair to put both yours and Sam's mug in the sink and watered your nearby plants while at it.

"I'm really glad Sarah had someone by her side," Sam commented and you could hear a hint of guilt in his words but you decided to ignore it. You simply nodded and muttered out a weak 'yeah', saying you were just as happy to have found a friend like Sarah.

Then Sam said something that made all the muscles in your body tense up and you froze completely for the next couple of seconds.

"And have you seen your family yet? Now that they've come back?"

It was an innocent question. He doesn't know the whole story. So calm down.

You slowly put down the glass you had used earlier to water your plants and tried with every particle in your body to put on the best toothpaste commercial-worthy smile you could force out of yourself before turning back towards Sam and answering his absolutely understandable question.

"Yeah!" No. "They're doing well, actually!" They're fucking dead.

Sam's genuinely happy smile was way too much to handle and if it hadn't been for a call from Sarah, you would have broken down in tears right in front of him the very next moment.

So instead of all that, you decided to turn right back around, pour yourself a huge glass of cold tapwater and down it in one breath while Sam finished his brief conversation with his sister. The stinging pain in your chest that followed was enough to distract your thoughts until he was finally at the door, saying goodbye and thanking your for the coffee and saying sorry for intruding and taking absolutely way too fucking long to finally leave.

"Hey, um... I could give you my number? If you ever need anything or..."

He can't be serious.

"Sure! You can, ugh, put it in my phone," you replied, your hands shaking dangerously as you reached into your back pocket for your mobile and handed it to Sam, who knew better than to comment on it.

Once finished, he returned your phone with one of those irritatingly joyful smiles of his and with a final 'see you around' Sam Wilson was off and you proudly patted yourself on the back for successfully holding it together until you finally reached your couch.

* * *

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[jjmaybanksbaby]

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer II

Part 04: I Should Just Tell You To Leave

series masterlist | previous part

summary: Against your better judgement, you seek out Rafe to talk about the Fourth of July party but things inevitably spiral. 

a/n: I don’t really have anything to add!! Enjoy the angst! :))

word count: 2.2k words

The warm Outer Banks sun streamed into your room waking you from your sleep like a subtle alarm clock. The sounds of the air conditioning whirling away in the background was the only noise filling the mostly quiet house. You rolled over in your bed and finding a cool spot drifted back to sleep.

This time the loud chimes of the front door bell pulled you out of your slumber. You sat up onto your elbows curiously. No one ever ringed your door bell except for the delivery person and never this early in the day. A pair of footsteps padded across the foyer to the front door and your mom’s familiar voice echoed through the house moments later.

With your door closed, the conversations was muffled and you could only make out pieces of it.

She didn’t just say “Cameron,” did she? You wondered.

You were surely just being paranoid. It had only been two days since everything that had happened on the Fourth and your brain felt scrambled from overthinking just about every detail of that night.

Your curiosity officially got the best of you and you slipped out of your bed, quietly as not to make any of the floorboards creak in the old house. You cracked open your bedroom door just enough to hopefully steal a glance at the front door but your mom's figure was blocking the face of whoever she was talking to.

The voice though. It sounded so familiar, like you should have been able to place it.

You watched from your bedroom as your mom stepped forward and gave the other person a hug, bringing their face into perfect view.

It was Ward Cameron. What was he doing here?

You watched your mom exchange a few more worlds and close the door behind him. You slide your feet into a pair of throughly-worn through slippers and stepped out of your bedroom.

Your mom was still standing at the bottom of the stairs tapping away at her phone. You wanted to ask her about Ward but you couldn't give away that you had been eavesdropping.

"Morning mom," you said, kissing her cheek, your eyes fluttering down to her phone screen. Her text with your dad were pulled up but it didn't look like anything important. "What’s for breakfast?"

"There's some bagels on the counter,” she replied, not looking up from her phone.

"Okay," you paused. "Was someone at the door?" You asked, hoping your mom missed the eagerness of your question.

"Oh, just Mr. Cameron." She said.

"Ward?"

"Mmmhmm."

"What did he want?" You pushed.

"He's helping us with Midsummers,” she replied.

Midsummers? You thoughts. Isn't that usually in June?

"I thought Midsummers already happened this year."

Your mom sighed and you could pick up on her slight annoyance with your questioning.

"It was. He's helping us with next summer. The board sends out invites the August before."

The bulk of your mom's statement went over your head except for two words: next summer. As in you would for sure be back in the Outer Banks next summer.

"Isn't Nonna already a member of the Club?"

“Yes, she is. But Midsummer is put on through the Island Club which an even more exclusive part of the Club. Our family used to be a part of it when I younger. Ward's helping us get back in."

"I thought our family didn't like the Camerons?" The words were out of your mouth before you realized how it might sound.

Your mom finally looked up from her phone at you. "Why would you think that?"

"Oh," you paused, unsure how to proceed exactly. "Nonna said Mr. Cameron broke your heart your senior year of high school," you said hesitantly. "She said you were so upset you didn't talk to her for like two years.”

Your mom scoffed. "Your Nonna is always so dramatic. That's where your older sister gets it from. My mother told me she wouldn't pay for my college if I followed Ward to UNC. I guess she didn't realize I wanted to go to the west coast for college anyway and was going to break up with Ward when he was home over Thanksgiving break. Things with Ward didn't end with any bad blood, contrary to my mother’s belief. She’s never liked the Camerons for some reason but that's just her."

"So then we're going next summer? To Midsummers?"

"That's what I'm trying to make happen." Your mother went back to typing furiously on her phone.

"And the Camerons go ever summer?” You asked. Your mind defied you, conjuring up an image of Rafe waltzing into Midsummers in a perfectly tailored suit with a matching baby blue bow tie that made his eyes pop.

"What's with the sudden interest in a party?" Your mother asked back.

You forced the corners of your mouth up into a casual smile. "No reason. I'm going to eat breakfast." You quickly disappeared down the hallway before you gave yourself away.

☼☼☼

You hummed along softly to the music coming from your phone as you ran a straightening iron through your thick hair. The summer humidity made it a disaster to deal with. You knew two minutes outside would send it right back into looking like an untamed mess but most mornings you still stood in front of the mirror straightening it anyway.

Your phone which was sitting on the counter to your right buzzed with a new notification. You picked it up and unlocked it. There were two unread text sitting in your messages: one from your dad and another from an unknown number. You opened the second one.

Hey y/n! It's Cleo. Have you heard from Rafe recently? He's been acting weird and ghosting on our plans. I realized I had your number so I figured I'd shoot you a text and ask!!

You reread the text from Cleo before switching to your messages with Sarah.

y/n: Do you know where your brother is?

s: he's in his room moping i'm guessing for the same reason i couldn't find you after the fireworks

y/n: Sorry about that. How about I'll buy you ice cream this week and make it up to you?

You paused for a moment before typing out your next message.

y/n: Do you think I could come talk to him?

s: go for it

s: and i like mint chocolate chip with sprinkles :)

☼☼☼

You stood on the Cameron's front porch, not sure if you should knock or just walk inside. You settled on knocking and seconds later the door swung open revealing a younger-looking blonde woman holding a stemless wine glass with thick gold hoods hanging from her ears.

"Hi," you said, feeling like coming here might have been a very bad idea. "Um, is Rafe home?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah he is. Who are you again?"

"I'm y/n, one of his friends. Sarah said I could stop by."

She stepped back opening the door wider. "Sure, come in. I'm Rose. Rafe's in his room."

"Thank you," you said, stepping into the house. A sweeping staircase climbed up to the second floor. "Up here?" You asked.

"Mmmhmm." Rose nodded, bringing her wine glass up to her lips.

You walked slowly down the long hallway, most of the doors were closed except for one at the end.

You saw Rafe before he saw you. He was sitting in his unmade bed pushed into the corner of the room, only the light from the video games on the tv illuminating the space. You raise your first and knocked lightly on his doorframe, his attention snapping up to you.

You lingered in his doorway. Crossing into Rafe's room felt like it should mean something, you wanted it to mean something. His eyes were glued to the floor, watching your hesitant movements. You took a small step forward. He went back to the game, unpausing it, his fingers flying across the controller, no longer focused on you.

“Hey, I think we should talk,” you said as you crossed the room until you were just few feet away from him. When he didn’t move his gaze from the tv, you glanced around his room looking nervously, unsure where to rest your own eyes. The room was so distinctively his. Everything fit together in a way that made sense and the years he had spent growing up in it were obvious.

“Does your boyfriend know that you’re here?” He snapped back.

You ignored his comment, pressing on. “Sarah said you were moping.”

“Sarah says a lot of things.”

“Rafe.”

“Y/n.”

“Jesus, why are being such an asshole? Are you even gonna look at me?”

You expected your comment to earn you at least a glance in your direction but his head stayed firmly facing forward.

You stepped in front of the tv, forcing him to meet your stare.

“I’m sorry Rafe. I should have told you about Evan earlier. Or made it clearer.” You stumble on your words. The air in the room was hot. The words in your throat felt sticky like it was taking everything in you to get them out.

Rafe stood up from where he was sitting on his bed. Before you realized what he was doing, he was standing in front of you, his arm slipping behind your waist, pull you in until you had to place a hand on his chest to keep some distance between you. God, you cursed the way your body instinctively arched against his, the two of you fitting together like you were perfectly shaped for each other.

“I’m not an asshole,” he growled, his voice lower than you had ever heard it. “Because an asshole would kiss you right now even thought you’ve made it very clear you’re not available to be kissed.”

He looked down at you, his lips no more than two inches from yours. If you tilted your head up anymore your lips might land on his.

He lowered his head to whisper in your ear.

“And to be very clear, I would fucking love to be kissing you right now,” he paused, not moving his mouth from next to your ear. “Actually, I’d like to do a little more than just kiss you, sweetheart.”

A deep blush spread across your face. You whole body responded to his words.

Rafe took a sudden step back, releasing you from his grip. “So you can either call up your boyfriend and tell him you’re over and kiss me like I can tell you want to. Or don’t and leave.” Rafe crossed his arms in front of his body, his tshirt straining against his biceps muscles. How had you never noticed just how built he was? You tried to shake off the feeling of being pressed against him, held in place by his strong arms.

Your phone felt heavy in back pockets, weighting you down. “Rafe, you know I can’t do that. I can’t just pick you or him.”

“I’m not gonna be some side piece y/n. And I’m sure as hell not gonna share you with some kid who probably doesn’t deserve the time of day from you, much less to be your boyfriend. You have thirty seconds. Make a choice.”

“We’ve been together 6 months...7 next week.” You blabbed, practically pleading with him. You hated to hear the words Rafe was saying because you knew they were every bit true. You couldn’t have both boys. But if you were being honest with yourself: you didn’t want them both.

Rafe Cameron was intoxicating. He made your brain swirl and held your whole damn emotions hostage. You should have known after he’d gotten you into a car crash the first night you’d met that he’d end up tearing you apart in every way. Not to mention your own grandmother had quite clearly warned you to stay away from him. But something about his beautiful face made you cling to him and welcome your downfall.

Your eyes danced from Rafe’s lips up to meet his glare. You could see him counting down the seconds behind his stare.

10...9...8...

It was all moving too fast. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe.

7...6...

But hadn’t you known coming here would lead to this? A part of you did. You knew the second you walked into the big Cameron house with the shiny marble floors you weren’t gonna leave it any bit the same.

5...4...

The voice in your head was screaming at you to walk away. You didn’t hurt people and Rafe was right: staying here would hurt Evan and it would hurt you just as much, maybe more. The voice yelled at you to get out. Run away from trouble back to Evan who wouldn’t ever hurt you. Back to your perfectly nice boyfriend.

3...

But no matter how loud or persistent that voice telling you to leave was, it couldn’t shut up the part of your brain pushing you to take what you really wanted. The boy you really wanted. The boy standing in front of you.

2...

You spun on your heel and kept your eyes down as you across the threshold of Rafe’s room back into the hallway.

1...

Rafe’s door closed behind you with a definitive click. That was it. He’d told you to pick and you had. There was no going back. No do-overs.

You stood frozen in the Cameron’s hallway, blinked away the tears threatening to spill down your face, trying to reassure yourself of your decision.

Your life would be easier without Rafe Cameron crowding your thoughts, you told yourself. Evan was the safe choice, he was good for you.

You let your legs carry you down the grand staircase and out of the front door of the Cameron’s house. There you were, for the second time in a week, fleeing from Rafe Cameron with your heart in the kind of pain that just might actually kill you.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13 [drop a ☀️ in my inbox or messages if you want to be added]

[purple-dahlias]

I’m not really sure if there’s any specific way you like these things to be asked, but the penpals au seems lovely if you ever want to write more of it! Absolutely no pressure or obligation to reply!! Your writing is great 😃

day twenty- outer space

aww thank you so much 🥺🥺 hope you don’t mind that I used the medtober prompt “outer space” to fill this request as well! thank you for sending this in :)

wc: 1111 warnings: none

The first thing Sarah does when she gets home from school is to check for mail. It had become somewhat of a ritual for her, checking every day after she had sent her letter, in the hopes of finding a response. Obviously, it was a little silly to do that: expecting a response the day after she sent her own letter, since they had to travel thousands of miles, but all the same, she would check. And today, about two and a half weeks since the last letter, Sarah gets lucky.

Tossing her backpack onto the floor of her bedroom, Sarah tears open the envelope, hands shaking ever so slightly in anticipation as she sits herself down on her bed, tucking her feet up under her and unfolding the pieces of paper within. Out fall three film photos, one a close up of the moon, illuminated against the darkness of the sky, another a particularly bright yellow-white star, that on the back Ava had scrawled ‘Canopus, the brightest star in the constellation Carina,’ and the final one, a photo of Ava herself, beside a younger girl who no doubt had to be Hilde—she was the very spitting image of her sister. The sky is dark behind them and the two are grinning up at the camera, smiling at Sarah from halfway across the world.

Sarah examines each of them carefully, turning them over in her hands. There’s just something about knowing that these photos are ones that Ava had taken, ones she had held in her hands, ones that had travelled all those thousands of miles to reach Sarah here in Connecticut. Because they were meant for her, and that makes them unexplainably precious, she thinks, as she turns her attention to the letter laid out on her bed.

Dear Sarah,

I hope your biology exam went well! I bet you came top in your class, easily. There’s absolutely no way on Earth you didn’t.

Sarah looks over those words, a warmth coursing through her. Ava had no earthly idea of the full extent of the meaning those words held for her. For someone to give her that support, to have that kind of confidence in her. For it not to be weird to enjoy science and do well at school. Sarah was used to being alone, forgotten, teased for being different and not quite fitting in, so for someone to just see and acknowledge her like that, never mind that Ava had never actually met Sarah, well, it meant a lot. More than she could ever translate into words.

I tried out that muffin recipe you sent, they were amazing! Hilde ended up eating six in one go and mum was not at all pleased! Especially when she tried to sneak some into her bedroom. So, if you ever want to send any other recipes, I look forward to trying them out!

That brings a smile to Sarah’s face. She’s happy to learn that they had turned out well, and that Ava and her sister had enjoyed them. She liked being able to do things like that for people. Liked having someone to be able to do those things for.

Ava’s letter continues on, telling Sarah about her week, about how they’d got to do heart dissections in her biology class, and how when she became a doctor (when because Ava had already decided that that was exactly what she wanted to do), she wanted to specialise in cardiothoracic surgery. Sarah loves the passion with which she talks about it, her future. How driven she is. How she knows exactly what she wants. How she’s already planned out all the steps she will need to take to get there. Sarah only wishes she could have that conviction in her own decisions and actions, wishes she could know with exact certainty what she wants out of life.

It was Hilde’s birthday last weekend; she wanted an outer space themed party—she’s been going through a phase where she’s obsessed with space and the planets and aliens lately. (Although my dad was not happy when I told her about black holes and she had nightmares for a week. It didn’t stop her from liking space, though, so, no harm done I guess). She practically begged for an “actual real, live telescope” for her birthday, and of course, Dad caved in and bought it. It’s one of those ones you can take photos with as well. I’ve included some of the photos with the letter so you can see— they actually look pretty good, you know.  

Undeniably, it’s an adorable image, thinking about Ava with her sister on her birthday, so full of excitement and wonder as she stared up at the night sky. But Sarah finds she can’t help the feeling of sadness that comes over her, as she’s reminded of a younger version of herself, aged four. Of a time before her father left. When the two would sit together in his study, poring over the pages of encyclopaedias and astronomy books, her marvelling at the photographs and illustrations, him telling her about the solar system, the planets, the stars, and everything in between and beyond. But that was a long time ago, Sarah sighs, shaking herself from her thoughts and continuing on with Ava’s letter, to its ending. She doesn’t want to dwell on how much things had changed since then. Not now.

How was the trip to that art gallery you told me you had planned? Send some photos if you can! I want to hear all about your week! Hope to hear from you soon.

Sending love,

Ava x

That always is the worst part about letters. They come to an end far too soon and the gap between replies is far too long, Sarah thinks to herself as she traces Ava’s careful handwriting on the backs of the photos wistfully, wishing there was a world in which Ava lived a few blocks over, where the two went to the same school and could hang out together afterwards, where they got to share experiences in person, rather than through paper and ink and distance and time.

Crossing her room to her desk, Sarah takes out a box of pins, carefully pinning Ava’s photos to her pinboard, before flipping the switch to her lamp on as the daylight fades away. With the room bathed in warm lamplight, Sarah unpacks her books from her school bag, settling down to get a start on her work, Ava’s letter beside her, like a mascot or a talisman, maybe both; looking forward to later, when she will begin to compose her response.

[starvels]

3, 6, and 9!

hi cassabee! thanks :')

from this fic-reader’s ask meme

3. one otp or mix-and-match?

mix and match! i love stevetony of course lol, but outside of s/t actually, most of my main ships have been poly ships and not single OTPs 😂 and i'm not married to only stevetony. i would love if more fics were about them being poly together! esp with like, jan or thor etc.

i think what i find compelling in pairing is actually the exploration of how characters fit together and are, as themselves.

in that vein, here's some nice historically-set assorted pairings for ya.

Blood trust by unknownlifeform

Alucard knows his traveling companions probably do not trust him fully. He is half vampire, and humans don't like to have creatures around them who could drink their blood. He isn't exactly enthusiastic of them, either. Except, it turns out he is fond of them. And they, for their part, do not mind having a dhampir around them. With everything that comes with it. Or: Alucard's developing feelings, narrated through blood and its effects on him. (Castlevania, Alucard/Sypha/Trevor)

Confidence Artists by Fahye

The grey light of Spain carries their history with it, and it's gleaming through the cracks. // Two long cons, in thirteen conversations. (Road to El Dorado, Chel/Miguel/Tulio)

counterflood by Saathi1013

Wherein Duncan Idaho is devoted to his Duke, Jessica schemes, and Leto is wary of abusing his power. Set pre-movie on Caladan, before Paul is born. (Dune, Duncan/Jessica/Leto)

and an og femslash knights for you, cass hehe

Beyond the Sea by thedevilchicken

At the ten-year tournament, Errian of Elentar is her homeland's champion. She has a reputation. There is no doubt she'll win.

There's just one problem: no one thought to tell her what winning would mean. Not for her and not for Kerra, the crown princess of Stellan.

6. favorite AU?

one of my faves is a sci fi au! i love it so much, especially when its speculative like doing a firefly au !! here's a classic stevetony that i never tire of for that, an underappreciated stevetony:

Catch a Falling Star by tsukinofaerii

When Tony was sixteen, he got to meet his hero, Captain Steve Rogers, the Empire's not-literally-golden boy from the Continuity Wars. When he was twenty-seven, the aforementioned Captain turned Pirate picked him up at the outer edges of space. It would have been a good time to appreciate the abundant nudity that came from spending too much time with space colonists, but Tony had bigger worries than even Rogers' amazing hip-to-shoulder ratio. Something was sending the star-encircling computers that power the galaxy into a tailspin, and it was going to take a lot more than luck and skill to clean the mess up.

A Timely Rescue by vorkosigan

"Sorry?" Steve said. "What did you say?"

Yes, Tony wanted to sleep with Steve. He also wanted to hold him in his arms all night, and to talk to him for hours, and to play with his hair. Love, he thought, makes you utterly ridiculous. And it hurts like a branding iron, to boot.

"Nothing at all, buddy," Tony said cheerfully. "Nothing at all."

*

Tony saves Steve's life, but if neither of them says anything about how they feel about each other, Steve will stay in Timely and Tony will fly away to gallivant among the stars, and they may never see each other again. A Firefly AU.

and an a:tla one, very found family

Big Damn Heroes by Damkianna

Katara pushes past the curtains that block off the bridge - they have got to get a new door fitted - and stops behind Toph's chair. "I take it we didn't drop out of hyperspace on purpose," she says. (Aka THE GAANG IN SPACE.)

9. rec an angst fic

here's two stevetony i enjoy for being interesting conceptually!

Your Face in Tomorrow by WhenasInSilks

You are lying on your back in a bed three thousand miles away from your home.

You are ruining your life.

What Lies Beneath by asktheravens

All Tony wants is to make amends after a thoughtless reaction leaves him in danger of losing Steve, but a mission intervenes. The Avengers travel to a laboratory in a remote part of Appalachia expecting a routine job, but an ancient evil slumbers within Old Crow Mountain that will test much more than their relationship.

(disclosure, i haven't finished this one but it's a compelling premise!)

a witcher one that deals out some good realism

Something You Somehow Haven't to Deserve by Dira Sudis (dsudis)

What good would a one-footed witcher be to anyone? (The Witcher Games, Eskel/Geralt)

thanks cass!!