#senseless jabbering | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wrctings · 4 years ago

Text

just some (slightly angsty) eruri fluff for you all because i miss them 🥰

“And so when I snapped my fingers right beside him, I got his attention. Actually got it! I’ve never had a titan stare at me like this, so intensely,” Hanji’s eyes sparkled, aglow with both irrepressible enthusiasm and the warm reflection from the room’s candle light, her fingers eagerly curled around the handle of a cup. “If only you’d seen it... I think he may have finally recognised me, given all the time we spent together... But we have to wait and see. And there’s also that plant we brought back from the last expedition! It’s growing! We put it in a more humid zone, like where we found it, and it’s actually growing.”

Levi had always known Hanji was a little excessive. Well, really excessive for the most part - especially when she’d get into one of her endless tirades about titans, marvelling over their monstrous abilities and curious shape and reflexes and whatnot... Sometimes, it drove Levi up to the wall to watch their scientist go into raptures over the senseless beasts that had crushed or torn apart so many of their fallen comrades. Though, to be fair, he could hardly blame Hanji - she was with them, after all; among the first ranks during expeditions, flanked by the officers’ side. That titan-loving thing was just a quirk of hers, just like Levi’s own cleaning thing, which he suspected many of their subordinates looked upon as a curious and slightly frightening obsession.

So, more often than not, Levi patiently kept his mouth shut, listening to Hanji’s passionate rants and picking out the useful information only, letting the rest slide into oblivion. But tonight, Levi’s usual self-control act had been getting pushed toward its limit, a disgruntled frown hidden behind his cup of tea. And the reason? Always the same golden-haired bastard.

White sleeves rolled up to the elbows, torso leaning over the wooden table, his blue eyes bright and animated by the same radiant shimmer of curiosity as in Hanji’s gaze, Erwin was hanging onto his friend’s every word.

“So, if some plants can only survive in a special kind of climate, the outside world must be...”

“Full of plants yet unknown to us! And of landscapes we can’t even imagine! And if that plant we brought back can only thrive in a wet kind of environment...”

“...Maybe there’s a large pool of water somewhere further away, beyond the limit we stopped at last time!”

Levi cursed Hanji from the bottom of his heart. Erwin’s entire attention seemed to be focused on the subject, blind to the rest of the room.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, we’re not quite sure of anything yet,” Moblit put his hands up with a sheepish smile, cooling off some of Hanji’s building elation. “First, let’s see how our titan and our plants fare in the upcoming weeks...”

“Our titan and our plants!” Hanji happily cried out, squeezing Moblit’s hand, cheeks burning red from excitement.

“Even if it’s only guesses, the captive titans and those plants can still provide precious information. It takes us one step closer to knowing the truth of the world,” Erwin’s hopeful and determined gaze met Hanji’s, both bound by a mutual fervour.

Levi silently watched them from the side, scowling. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t give a lesser shit about all of this - he wanted to rid the world of titans, to keep tightening until the last monster fell under their blades. Not bustle about captured titans in wonderment or waste time growing plants... In that moment, he resent their joy; joy sprung from the bloody cadavres of their comrades. Was this what they dedicated their heart for? Part of Levi knew perfectly well that, of course, all Hanji and Erwin gushed over was important to some degree. But he couldn’t quite share in their foolishness.

“Well, here’s to another step then,” Moblit raised his glass, smiling fondly when he caught a glimpse of the earnest exhilaration radiating off Hanji’s face. She did more often than not put him through the mill, but that’s also why he liked her, wasn’t it?

The other two officers followed Moblit’s lead, lifting their glasses up into the air, but before clinking them together Erwin shot a lighthearted look at Levi, raising his eyebrows as if asking the Captain to join in. With a muffled sigh, Levi shook his head reluctantly.

“Teacups aren’t meant for your drunken shit.”

He got away with a small movement of the hand, slowly shooting it upward in a way that made it seem he took part in the toast.

Erwin, Hanji, and Moblit drank on cordially, indulging in one of the rare merry celebrations they’d allow themselves to enjoy - the last expedition had been a success after all, with no casualties and only two superficially hurt soldiers! Such victories did truly raise the troops’ morale, so, in addition to the dinner feast everybody got to delight in, Erwin wanted to also congratulate the officers who had been working had on the expedition. Hence the wine.

Only when the crepuscular haze of the night sky hovered over the barracks did the party begin to retire, tired grins and slightly dizzy heads wishing each other goodnight with remains of gaiety seeping through their lips; such a carefree, congenial time would probably be long to come again, so they had drunk from the brimming glass of furtive bliss until the very last honeyed drop dried out on their tongue. Waving Erwin and Levi goodnight, Hanji - held up by Moblit, bless his soul - stumbled around the corner of the corridor leading to her quarters, relying on the loyal shoulder that would help her get to her room safe and sound and not accidentally crash someplace else and carelessly pass out for the night.

Much like Moblit, Levi had taken up the habit of bringing Erwin to his room after another day of exhausting work or a festive evening, watching the commander’s ever steady pace out of the corner of his attentive eye and listening to him jabber about whatever occupied his mind on that day, barely responding himself, but always paying silent attention to Erwin’s words. Although he didn’t admit it to his own self at first - he liked it. Liked having Erwin stroll beside him, his deep and slightly fatigued voice untangling the knots in Levi’s own head, keeping everything at bay but an inexplicable wave of... comfort. And, soon enough, the comfort had even turned into something more.

“Did you enjoy the night, Levi?” Erwin inquired in his usual late-night chattery fashion, fingers already working the top buttons of his white shirt as the commander’s quarters arose in their field of vision.

The only answer he got out of Levi was a grunt, the short Captain pushing the door before them open. It slammed against the wall a little too harshly.

“Something on your mind?” Erwin persevered, trying to read the other man’s crossed features.

“Alright.” Levi ended up conceding, a resigned sigh escaping the vexed line of his mouth. “Erwin, I can’t seem to give the slightest crap about those shitty plants.”

“Ah, Hanji may convince you they’re—” Erwin started again, smiling at what he thought was just a heedless comment of Levi’s, but the way he was interrupted soon let him guess otherwise.

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t get excited like you brats. I just... Don’t. I can’t bring myself to care about shitty glasses’ experiments. Or even... That stuff you talked about,” Levi waved his hand vaguely, hoping it was allusive enough.

A thoughtful moment’s silence passed, Erwin considering what Levi had just admitted - he began to recall now how retiring Levi had indeed seemed during tonight’s celebration, quietly grumbling by himself and even cutting short on the playful insults he would usually hand out.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t have fun tonight, Levi.”

“Feel sorry for yourself. You’re the one stuck with a killjoy of a brat,” Levi attempted a sarcastic smile, but it came out distorted by a hint of sad resignation. Ever since he and Erwin had... this - whatever it was called - Levi didn’t hold back as much as he used to anymore; something about Erwin’s kind understanding, no matter the slander ghosts clouding the Captain’s mind, put him at ease. So Levi spoke his mind.

“Sorry?”

Erwin’s reassuring arms twined around Levi’s torso, the commander’s head settling on top of his - the height difference, Levi had to admit, was convenient -, and he planted a long kiss on top of his head; the first real one of the day, after the hasty pecks he had stolen from Levi in between tasks. For Levi, those intimate hours were dreams he’d never wish to wake up from. “Why should I feel sorry, when I can’t believe my luck?”

“I’m not exactly the funniest person you can find, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“And so what? I, for one thing, think you are funny. Your dark humour may take some getting used to at first, but afterwards, you crack me up, my dear,” Erwin mused, littering Levi’s neck with sloppy kisses. “I love you.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Erwin.”

However, Levi’s heavy heart did feel lighter already; to feel Erwin’s lips on his skin, his warm hands fiddling with Levi’s uniform to help him take it off, his precious words whispered against his ear - for Levi, and Levi only, to hear and treasure and greedily take for himself - soothes the Captain’s unexpected rush of self-depreciation. But seeing how happy Erwin had looked while talking to Hanji and Moblit had left a painful imprint Levi struggled to erase from his memory. What if... what if he’d never make Erwin this happy?

“Levi, I don’t care that you don’t get excited over shitty plants. You and I can care about different things and still care about each other too, yeah?” Levi felt the nuzzle in his neck send shivers down his spine, another one of Erwin’s kisses mending the cracks in his heart one by one. “I know you press my shirts whenever they get too creased. You bring coffee and food to my office when I’m working too much. You take Hanji’s laundry into her room when she forgets it. You help the recruits who fall behind in training...” Erwin kept on talking, going around Levi to face him in the candlelit room, until his nose gently bumped against his, and their lips met in what Levi could only describe as solace. “The list goes on and on. These are all the things you care about. And I love you for it.”

“...It seems your sappy stuff still gets me. You shitty, sentimental brat,” Levi drowned a teary chuckle in Erwin’s chest, clutching the fabric of the commander’s uniform in his fist. Then, he retired in his cat-like fashion, starting to ondo the buttons Erwin had started to work on. “I had no idea you were fucking spying on me the entire time.”

“Your fault.” Erwin followed Levi’s lead, getting rid of his own uniform before he slipped into bed, a tired look softening his features, and loose strands of hair falling out of place upon his forehead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Levi joined him, huddling beneath the clean and cosy bedsheets, and brushed the hair away from Erwin’s face, savouring its end-of-the-day softness between his fingers.

“It’s your fault for having such a beautiful soul.”

“A beautiful soul?” Levi scoffed gently, pressing his shoulder against Erwin’s. “Never heard anything this stupid before.”

“It’s true. You may not believe me yet, but I’ll keep doing this” Erwin took Levi’s hand in his, kissing his calloused knuckles - “and this” -, then wrist - “and this”, then forearm, “and this, until you do.”

“I’m no sap like you, so it might take a while...,” Levi murmured in return, pressing a kiss into Erwin’s neck. A beautiful soul? Never before had Levi heard such words - and never before had his heart skipped a beat like it did when they struck him.

“It’s okay,” Erwin cuddled up to Levi, not suppressing a deep contented sigh when the other man’s nails gently raked his scalp, playing with his hair. “I won’t quit.”

#levi ackerman #erwin smith #eruri #eruri fluff #eruri fanfiction #levi ackerman x erwin smith #levi ackerman x erwin smith fanfiction #levi ackerman fluff #erwin smith fluff #aot fluff #aot fanfiction #snk fluff #snk fanficition #writing #my writing #eruri one shots #attack on titan fanfiction

31 notes · View notes

felixferitas · 8 months ago

Text

felix's lips thin in annoyance, brows furrowing. joe's adamant on continuing to antagonize him, it seemed, but at least felix can be thankful he's not being disgustingly crass anymore. doubtful it'll last, but for the moment he can be appreciative. he glares at joe over his flat white, taking a sip as he braces himself for more senseless jabber. but to his dismay, joe's actually making sense. in a rare moment of clarity, felix recognizes that he might have been needlessly harsh on joe. he probably doesn't know any better, and it's not like felix had much notice about his presence at saltburn over the course of the summer, otherwise felix might've tried to clue him in on the necessary ettiquette to blend in with his family. something to help him not stick out like a sore thumb. "doesn't matter. maybe i am taking this more seriously, more personally than i ought to. but whatever, that says more about me than it does about you. you are, after all, only staying at my ancestral home." felix offers him a polite close-lipped smile. shifting tactics, opting to kill him with kindness — or at least lull joe into a false sense of security. it really was less about joe and perhaps more about felix. he always feels stressed out and overwhelmed whenever he returns from a term at oxford, when really one would think it'd be the other way around. "just forget it. and consider yourself lucky, i suppose, because if mum's not scrutinizing you she'll be focusing on me." he takes another sip of his flatwhite before setting it down, fingers absentmindedly stroking over his chin. good — his stubble hasn't grown back yet.

felix's blatant irritation is largely amusing — the bristling more entertaining than it is insulting — but the nagging (and it is nagging) strains each scoff that bubbles to the surface. one would think that without a family and without any solid shelter, that there'd be nothing and no one to pressure him; educate him with a pointed index and a stern look. venetia doesn't rise to the occasion — and although her father seems less enthused by joe's presence, even he cares little to shoulder responsibility. that felix does, is laughable. "jesus — who else is reelin' o'er this huh? yer' mom put you up to this? or this is all you?" his shoulders are propped up, roughened palms sat against the counter as he smoulders, creased brows angled in mild annoyance. "must be all you, 'cause no one else gives a shit. venetia doesn't. yer' parents don't. you really care this much 'bout — feckin' — stiff behaviour? bein' all — proper n' shit?"

#carminekings #─── ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝟎𝟏 ⠀ ／ ⠀i just died in your arms tonight. it must’ve been something you said.#─── ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ * ⠀𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱.／ ⠀ replies.#felix x joe

7 notes · View notes

imjusthereforbatfam · 4 years ago

Text

Never-Ending Encore, ch.5

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Chapter Summary: Okay, listen. Listen. Eden may have agreed to this, but are we absolutely, positively sure she needs stitches? Yes? Er… Okay. But are we, like, SURE sure or...?

Warning: swearing, blood, describing injuries, mending injuries (on a wuss)

Also!!! Apparently, you’re not supposed to use rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide on cuts cuz their chemicals are too harsh and can damage muscle tissue. I grew up using peroxide on my cuts and didn’t know you weren’t supposed to until after I’d already written the majority of this chapter, so like… don’t do this irl. I’m just lazy and using alcohol works really well for the story so blah

—

Chapter 5:

Eden leaned her head back on the low wall behind her and stared up at the clouded sky. She huffed for what felt like the hundredth time. At this rate, she was going to be completely healed before Red Hood even got back...

She took another peek at her sliced palm. The cut was about a third smaller than it had been. Would Red Hood notice? Probably. It was hard to miss.

Should she— she shuddered. Should she try to reopen it a little with her nails?

She moved her hand away, gagging at the thought.

Nope. No way. Forget that. If it was noticeable to Red Hood, she would just play it off somehow. Distract him or something. Play dumb. Cry. Whatever it took but she was not going to reopen it. It shouldn’t heal much more before he got back, anyway. He promised it would only take a few minutes for him to get what he needed and get back. And, despite feeling like she’d been sitting on this rooftop for hours, Eden knew that wasn’t true. She was just getting antsy.

She put a hand to her neck, gently moving a finger across the gash there. It was fairly long, running from the dip between her shoulder and neck down to the crook of her collar bone. The knife nicked her jugular on the way down, too. That was how she’d become so lightheaded so quickly. Even now, her shirt was still wet with all the blood she’d lost.

She was lucky her body healed the way it did. The process was by no means instant, and sometimes it was too little too late, but more often than not it was just enough to save her from unnecessary encores.

Actually, still running her finger along the jagged cut, Eden was a bit surprised. Usually, an injury like this would be far more healed by now. Yet, somehow, the cut on her neck didn’t feel any smaller than the first time she’d touched it. True, it wasn't as deep as it had been – Eden could just… tell it wasn't – but on the surface, it was mostly the same.

Was it her? Had she gained some control over this part of her power without realizing it? Maybe. Or maybe she'd just lost so much blood that replenishing it was more important than mending the rest of her body. Or maybe her body magically knew that healing too fast wasn’t a good idea this time. Or, maybe, it was just mending itself like this, like a snail trudging across a bone-dry desert, because she hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime.

Her stomach growled on cue, confirming her suspicions. Eden groaned. Now that she wasn’t drowning in her own thoughts or missing a remarkable amount of blood, she was fully aware of her body’s needs. And, boy, did it need food.

“Would you—”

Eden shrieked in surprise as Red Hood announced his return by swiping her hand away from her neck.

“—stop messing with that?”

“What in the—!? Where in the heck did you come from!?”

“Hell, obviously.” He knelt down in front of her, taking a small black bag off his shoulder. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“Oh, of course,” she said rolling her eyes. “I thought I recognized the accent.” She smacked her forehead theatrically.

Red Hood let out a small, amused sound as he unzipped the bag. Inside was a swath of medical supplies. He dug around a moment then pulled out a white cloth and bottle of rubbing alcohol.

Eden eyed the bottle as he unscrewed the cap. “I hear the weather’s lovely in Hell this time of year,” she continued, hiding behind the joke. “Good time for a visit.”

“Nah," he said playing along. "It’s hot as balls right now."

She chuckled. “Ain't it—” Red Hood turned to her urgently and Eden quieted.

He said nothing.

“Um…" She shrank down a little, unnerved by his wordless stare. "Everything okay there, Mr. Hood?”

He studied her another moment then eased back. “Yeah. Sorry. You started laughing so I thought you might…” he drifted off, looking at her neck. He shook his head and went back to prepping the cloth. “How do you feel?”

She shrugged. “Fine. Better than I was.”

“No more gagging fits?” He glanced over at her and Eden shook her head. “Good.”

She eyed the drenched cloth in his hand, thinking back to all the times she'd put alcohol on someone else’s cuts and scrapes. She’d never had to use it herself, not even when she was a kid, so she didn’t know what it felt like. All she knew was that other people often hissed or groaned when they used it. Even Nate, arguably the toughest of her semi-siblings, would wince if alcohol went on an open wound.

“Is that going on my neck?”

“Yep.” Red Hood brought it closer.

Eden leaned away. “Is it going to hurt?”

“I mean.” He gave a half-shrug, half-nod like it was obvious. “Yeah?”

“Okay, but like…” She slunk down against the wall, growing quieter. “How bad is it gonna hurt? Like… bad or… really bad?”

Red Hood tilted his head in thought. “How’s your pain tolerance?”

"My...? Oh. Well, it's... um..."

No matter how she got hurt, Eden was always fine in the end. But in the moment? When it was actually happening to her? Or, if it was a trade, when it felt like it was happening to her?

“Not great,” she decided. But, then again, who didn’t experience excruciating pain while dying? “It’s hard to say. It might be normal but… I’m not really sure. I certainly don't like pain, if that helps.”

“Alright, better question: have you ever used alcohol to clean a cut before?"

“No,” she murmured sinking into her shoulders. “Never.”

Red Hood turned his head upward and let out a deep noise, something between a hum and a sigh. He glanced toward the little black medical bag, then down at himself, then around them. Searching for something, perhaps.

“Look—” Eden straightened herself up, drawing his attention. “Look, why don’t you… Why don’t you just do it, okay? You being all,” she made a gesture, “this is freaking me out more. Just throw it on there and if it hurts, then—”

“When it hurts. I’m not just slapping it down," he told her. "I have to actually clean the cut.”

“Oh, okay!” she said in a much higher pitch. “Great! Wonderful! Then when it hurts, I’ll just— I’ll— I’ll kick you or something! And it’ll be fine!”

Red Hood cocked his head. “After all I’ve done for you, you’re going to repay me by kicking me?”

Eden blinked at him. “What? Oh! No, no! I didn’t mean— I wasn’t really going to kick you! Of course not! I wouldn’t actually— Okay, I mean, maybe in like a knee-jerk kind of way, but not on purpose or anything! And even if I did do it on purpose, I’d probably hurt myself more than I’d hurt you, Mr. Hood – I think we both know that – ‘cause it would just, you know, be like a, uh, little baby kicking you or something. More sad than anything, really; just downright pathetic, and, honestly, you'd probably feel bad for me and have to pretend it hurt 'cause I'd just be holding my foot and crying, and—”

Red Hood snickered loudly, cutting off her senseless jabbering. He turned his head and covered the place where his mouth would be but his shoulders kept shaking.

Eden’s whole face went up in flames. He'd been joking. And now he was laughing at her. Again.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she grumbled turning away from him. She pushed her hair out of the way and offered up her neck. “Will you please just get this over with before I make a bigger fool of myself?”

“Hold on.” Still fighting back laughter, he reached for the bottle again. “I need to add some more.”

“More!?”

"Yeeaah," he said shaking his head oh-so-solemnly. "It dried out while you were talking."

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure." She turned and pinned her eyes on the skyscrapers in the distance. "Go on and tease the panicking person, Mr. Hood. Very kind of you. Very classy.”

"What can I say? I'm such a kind, classy guy."

A laugh nearly tumbled out of her but Eden quickly fought it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. The sound of fresh alcohol spilling onto the cement wiped her suppressed smile clean away.

“Oh god.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

“You’re gonna be fine, Cookie Girl.”

“I am not gonna be fine!” she threw back. “This is awful! This is horrendous! This is— This is torturous!”

He scoffed, close to her neck now. “Don’t be such a baby. I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“I know! That’s what’s so awful!”

“Do you want to hold my hand or something?”

Eden knew he was mocking her. She did. She just didn’t care. Her good hand clutched at the fabric of his leather jacket. The other wrapped around the exposed skin between his glove and tight, armor-like sleeve. Her mending palm warmed quickly against his skin.

He cleared his throat. “I was joking.”

“Well, that's too damn bad, Mr. Hood! Don’t go making offers you don’t wanna bank on! Now, would you puh-LEASE just get this over with!? I’m seriously starting to freak out here, and I really don’t appreciate the whole ‘Let’s draw this out as long as possible ‘cause it’s funny’ shtick, ‘cause it’s not funny, and I for one really don't appreciate—”

“Okay, okay! I’m doing it, I’m doing it. Sheesh.” He moved forward and ran the cloth over her torn skin in one quick motion. Eden shrieked and clutched his arm.

The burn was intense— sudden— unlike anything she’d felt before. Her eyes misted as she forced herself to breathe through clenched teeth.

Every so often, Red Hood gave her small words of assurance – that she was doing fine, that he was almost done – but Eden could only focus on the pain. Liquid fire bubbled and seared its way deep into the wound. She dragged the soles of her shoes against the cement, desperate for relief. Eventually, she tore her good hand away from Red Hood’s jacket and pounded her fist against the floor. She grabbed his sleeve again and held it tightly, trying not to cry.

When he finally finished, Red Hood carefully removed her good hand from his sleeve and put it on top of the cloth. “Keep this here, alright?”

“I don’t like this,” she sniffed, her voice wavering. “Why do we have to do this. I hate this. This is stupid.”

“You’re doing fine, Cookie Girl,” he said softly.

She half-huffed, half-whined in disagreement.

Red Hood turned back to his little black bag and dug around with his free hand. He made no indication of needing his other hand, so Eden didn’t let go. Every time the frothing, stinging burn flared up again she dragged her heel across the floor and gave his arm another tight squeeze. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it.

“So.” He pulled a small pouch from the bag. “What kind of trouble are you in, anyway?”

The furrow in her brow deepened. “What do you mean? I’m not in any trouble…”

“Right.” From the pouch, Red Hood took out a curved needle, some thick tweezers, and what looked like a spool of blue fishing line. “Because only someone not in any trouble would beg someone like me to patch them up instead of going to a hospital.”

“Hey now!" She let go of him and pointed to herself. "I didn't beg for nothin'. I just refused to go to the hospital. You're," she jabbed her finger at him, “the one who’s insisting on doing this nonsense.”

He scoffed and swiped her hand away as he threaded the needle. “Would you rather I didn’t do this nonsense?”

“It feels like the devil himself is pissing on my shoulder right now, so... yeah, to be completely honest, I’m kinda wishing you didn't.”

Red Hood stopped. Stiffly, he turned his head toward her. Eden shrunk back from the sudden, severe emotion coming from him. The heat of his hidden gaze, amplified by the glaring eyes of his helmet, was hard to meet.

“I’m sorry,” he said harshly, “did you want an infection in your fucking neck?”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Then what about having a huge scar for the rest of your life?”

Knots formed in her stomach. “I’m not worried about scars,” she mumbled stubbornly.

“No? Then how about that cut reopening?” he shot back. “How about bleeding out a second fucking time when there's no one around? How about fucking dying? Are you worried about that?” he hissed. His distorted voice was sharper and more searing than Eden had ever heard it.

She sank further down the wall. It wasn't hard to understand why Red Hood was so worked up about this. She glanced down at the slick, sticky river of blood that had flooded her shirt and pooled down her torso. She'd lost so much so quickly... If she were a normal human being and the cut did reopen, there wouldn't be enough blood left in her body to survive it. She would bleed out and die just like Red Hood said.

But Eden wasn't normal. The cut wouldn't reopen. And even if it somehow did, it wouldn't kill her. Her body had already made up for most of the blood she'd lost — she could feel it. And even if it hadn't, even if the damn thing did kill her, it's not like she would stay dead anyway. The universe would demand another encore from her, just like it always did, and her heart would start again. Just like it always did.

Eden eyed the needle in Red Hood's hand apprehensively. He was going to put that into her skin. Into her cut. He was going to sew her up like an old ragdoll and she didn't even need it!

What would it feel like? Would it be small but sharp like getting pricked by a sewing needle? Strange and agonizing, as if she were being carved up by a tiny knife? Quick and exasperating, like getting her ears pierced again before they finally understood why the holes kept closing up? Or, would it feel like something she’d never experienced before — like the molten, frothy sting of alcohol on an open wound?

And, even worse, the stitches would eventually have to come out. Her body would be perfectly healed within a day or two – at most – and would leave no scar. There'd be nothing to suggest she’d ever even needed stitches in the first place. Even if she could find a way into a hospital without alarming her mother, how would she be able to explain that? She wouldn't. She'd have to remove them herself.

She could just... tell Red Hood her secret, of course. Avoid the whole kerfuffle that way but... But that was stupid. Yeah, he was trying to help her now, and, yeah, he’d save her before, but being a metahuman wasn’t something you just… told people about. Not even heroes. Eden wasn’t that stupid.

In fact, the only people she’d ever told were the “cousins” she considered siblings. And even then, unless they actively needed her powers, she only told them after years of knowing and trusting them. It was her greatest secret, and, as far as she was concerned, only family needed to know it.

Well. Family and whoever the hell Frank told, apparently.

Eden was still upset about that. People – people she didn’t know; people her mother didn’t know; total strangers – knew about her powers now. Frank had told the people he worked with about her without her knowledge or consent. He swore they were trustworthy, that they were merely interested in the science and what it could do, but that didn’t mean much to Eden. After all, he wasn’t even family. Not anymore.

She'd thought he wanted to be. Despite all the years of silence, of absence, she’d hoped he wanted to be when he suddenly reached out and asked to see her again. But when they finally did meet up, after all the backflips and hoop-jumping they’d gone through to keep Mama from catching wind, he’d treated her more like a business venture than a daughter.

That stung more than alcohol ever could.

“Well?”

Eden glanced up at Red Hood. Waiting, with needle in hand. Likely angry, or at the very least upset, with what he must’ve thought was a very stupid, very weak, very ungrateful little girl. He certainly wouldn't be the first.

She looked away again and let out a slow breath. Carefully, she removed the cloth from her neck, hissing softly as she did. She wordlessly offered up the wound a second time. He shifted closer, putting a hand near the cut. Eden flinched and he stopped again.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, softly, sure he was getting more irritated by the minute. “I’m sorry, I just…” She shook her head, fighting the shameful urge to cry. “I’m just," she choked. "I'm just no good at this stuff."

Red Hood said nothing. Eden wondered if silence was how he showed his disappointment.

After a moment, his free hand moved from her neck. He held it in front of her, his palm up. She stared at it, unsure of what it meant.

“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” he said gently. Eden's eyes lifted in surprise. “It does when the needle goes in," he continued, still soft, "but it’s more weird than painful, I swear. If you need to, you can still…" Red Hood looked to the side and started mumbling. "Y'know.” He bobbed his hand. “Hold my hand or whatever...”

A rebel tear ran down her cheek. Eden sniffed and quickly brushed it away.

This... This was Gotham’s most-contested vigilante. The mob boss. The murderer. The one everyone and their mother had an opinion on. The one they said could never, should never, be considered a hero. This guy. The one who insisted on helping a stubborn, panicky, annoying civilian all night. The one who got downright pissed when she tried to brush off life-saving care. The one who did not rebuke her for being so pathetic, so weak, but instead shyly offered her comfort.

She couldn't wrap her head around it. People called Red Hood bad, immoral, unforgivable, but how? How could anyone think of him like that? Even if he'd done awful things... Even if he still did awful things... Red Hood clearly wasn't an awful person. He was thoughtful. He was kind. He was good.

Had any of the people who said those nasty things actually met him? Did they know how tender he could be? How sweet? Maybe they hadn’t and his rough reputation simply preceded him. Or maybe Eden was a fool who couldn't see the true cruelty hidden beneath a masterful facade. Or... maybe she was one of the lucky ones who got to see past the facade, who got to see the heart hidden underneath.

Eden gingerly took his hand, so, so grateful. “Thank you, Mr. Hood,” she whispered, hoping the words would be enough to convey at least a small fraction of what she was feeling.

He grumbled something back — his voice garbled more than usual.

Eden smiled and giggled softly, feeling outstandingly lucky.

“You ready now?” he muttered.

She nodded. "Ready."

He moved forward again, slowly this time — giving her enough time to stop him if she needed it. She squeezed his hand in anticipation. He took it as a go-ahead.

There was a sharp prick at the base of her collarbone followed by a strange sliding sensation. Like he’d said, there was a sharp, shooting pain each time the needle went in or out of her skin, but it wasn’t too bad. The real issue was the silk-like thread. The slick feeling of it running in and through her skin, tugging pieces of herself together… It was off-putting. Nauseating, even.

Eden tried not to squirm too much. When the needle pierced too thin a piece of skin, she squeaked and scraped her shoe against the ground as Red Hood muttered an apology. When the tugging made her nearly gag, she zeroed in on the scruff marks along his jacket, breathing slowly as she counted them up.

When none of that helped, she would squeeze his hand, silently begging for strength. He squeezed back, readily giving it whenever she asked.

“There,” he said pulling the needle through one last time. He tugged the thread firmly. “Can I have my hand for a second?”

Eden let go and watched as he tied off the string and cut off the excess.

“So…" she tried. "How do I get them out?”

“They’ll dissolve or fall out in a few weeks’ time. No hospitals necessary.”

She nodded slowly then let out a breath of relief. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Red Hood studied her a moment. He lowered his head slightly and stayed that way, something clearly on his mind.

Then, as if forcing himself, he reached for her cut hand. Eden jerked it close to her chest.

“Are you gonna put stitches in my hand, too? That would hurt worse, wouldn’t it? Since it’s my palm?” She snuck a glance at the cut as she spoke.

The first time she’d looked at it, it ran clear across her palm from end to end. There’d been thin cuts across some of her fingers too. She honestly couldn't remember when it had happened in the fight or how, but she must’ve grabbed for the knife at some point and been holding it by the blade when it was roughly pulled from her grasp.

Now, the cut was much smaller. Only about an inch and a half over the center of her palm. She couldn’t even tell where the smaller slices on her fingers had been. She imagined the skin there still looked a little irritated, but – because it was dark and her hand was still coated with blood – she couldn’t see it.

“I might not have to,” Red Hood said holding his hand out for hers. “The neck was definitely worse, but let me take another look at it.”

Nervously, Eden took one more glance at her palm then handed it over.

Red Hood inspected it a moment then tilted his head. "Huh."

She panicked. “What!?” she shrieked, startling him enough to look away from the cut. “Is it bad? Do I need stitches? Please don’t say I need any more stitches, Mr. Hood, I really don’t think I can handle going through that with my hand. Please say I don’t. Pretty please?”

He glanced down at it again. “You don't.” Very gently, he ran a thumb over the cut. “It’s a lot smaller than I remember…”

“Oh, thank goodness!" she said in a fast voice. She started tugging her hand away. "So we’re all good then, right? No more patching up? You can just take me home now?”

Red Hood let out an amused hum and started packing up his supplies. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“No, not at all! But," she brought up a finger, "if you bring that alcohol crap anywhere near me again, I really am going to kick you.”

He scoffed and batted her hand away. Then he paused and dipped his head. “Actually," he teased, reaching for the bottle. "Now that you mention it—”

“No. No, no."

“We really should clean it."

“Nope. No. Don’t you dare.”

“Aw, c'mon, Cookie Girl,” he said waving the bottle. “Just to be safe?"

“Mr. Hood, I will kick you and I will do it hard.”

He laughed, stood up, and offered his hand. "You gonna cry when you do?"

"No! ...Maybe." She took his hand. "Shut up."

—

Feedback is always appreciated! 🥰💕

Chapter 6

#jason todd #jason todd x oc #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x oc #red hood x reader #oc: Eden Smith #Never-Ending Encore #chapter 5 #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction

28 notes · View notes

instruth · 2 years ago

Text

Oh! What A City So Full Of Pity

Oh! Bitter urban, the city slums

Daily bread of bits and crumbs

As day is day, and night is night

A born-blind misses not a sight

Living becomes an opportunity

To ignore deprivation, no self pity

Be quick, to never miss a chance

Game of chess with just a glance

Overcrowding makes good company

Measure poverty by counts of agony

Picking pebbles beside a dusty road

Deaths lift burden off a heavy load

Polluted air roams the foul gutter

Senseless attempts fail to utter

Running errands on shoeless feet

Taking shortcuts by the back streets

No time to idle, true bums are lazy

Be busy as bees, flitting in a frenzy

Drugs and ales deceive the whimsical

Help the fearful turn brave, tyrannical

Dreaming creates jabbers and chatters

Professional robbers and keen rioters

Bamboo beats to tapping vocalists

Unrhetorical drunks turn moralists

Undeserving as raw meat on the windows

Raising funds for the deserving widows

Never shirk from the spark of loyalty

Abort the prim and proper acts of royalty

Stretching fullest from feet to finger tips

Add mind and soul, through burning lips

©Johnny J P Lee

08 December 2022

Gogyoshiren Poem (30)

Photo Credit J. P. Lee

#poetryportal #writerscreeds #smittenbypoetry #writtenconsiderstions #acrobat888 #the subservient human

8 notes · View notes

rahleeyah · 5 years ago

Note

what if jen and jean swapped places?

This is SUCH A FUN QUESTION OMG

Jen would be FURIOUS. If she's trying to play along, the restrictions suddenly placed on her by Jean's role in the house and position in society would, I think, be a grave insult to her. Jen is used to a certain degree of convenience in life, and a certain degree of responsibility and professional pride, and I think she would find this position sexist and insulting. What do you mean there's a separate room in the pub for women? What do you mean she has to cook and clean and organize the surgery for Lucien when he can't even bother to put his own laundry away? What do you mean she has to wash his dirty undies and they're not even married? What do you mean she can't take out a loan, or buy a car, or do what she sees as proper police work? She sees the way women are treated by their husbands, owned by their husbands, trapped by husbands and babies and the church and all of it, and she is seething.

I love the idea of Jen trying to explain the situation to Lucien, and him believing her completely. Like "yes, you most certainly are not Jean, I can see that now, but no one else will ever believe you so let's keep this between us bc otherwise they're gonna lock you in an asylum."

I love the idea of Lucien being fascinated by what she can tell him of the future, and I also love the idea of Lucien showing Jen that like, yes, the treatment of women in this time period is Not Great, but he respects Jean and cares for her and Jen doesn't have to pity her. Pity others, sure, but not Jean Beazley.

I love this: "you look just like her, you know," he says softly while they sit in his office sharing a drink one night. "Except for the...erm..." he gestures to her hair. Jen arrived in this place looking just like herself, ten years younger than Jean and blonde to boot, and Lucien has been trying to keep her home and out of sight as much as possible, just in case.

"You miss her, don't you?" Jen asks. She can see it in his eyes, the way he watches her, the sorrow that seems to linger on the edge of every word he says. He helps with the dishes, and with the dinner, sometimes, has been kind and done his best to assist her, to make her feel comfortable and work through this problem with her, but she knows when he sees her he doesn't see Jen. He sees her.

"Very much," he says, softly. "Not that I'm not delighted to have you here, Jennifer, it's just that Jean...well, Jean is...she's..."

Jen smiles, and lets him flounder. She knows what it is he can't say.

BUT THEN

Jean, thrust into the modern day. It is so loud and so bright and everything is moving so fast and there's a roughness to the people around her she doesn't quite know how to manage. They aren't...well...they certainly don't hesitate to say what they think, and Jean is learning, day by day, how to deal with them.

Picture that first morning. Jean wakes up in a bed that is definitely not hers to the sound of a small device on the side table making a truly terrible sound. It alarms her so much she just stuffs it under the pillow, and goes to explore the little house where she has found herself.

It is, she thinks, exactly the sort of little house she might like to have herself one day, two bedrooms, cozy, with a neat little garden, only the furnishings and decor and by god the clothes are all...it's like her world, but everything slanted a little bit to the left, almost the same but just strange enough to leave her uncomfortable and afraid.

The kettle in the kitchen is familiar, though, so she goes and makes herself a cup of tea. She has no sooner sat down at the table, wondering what on earth has happened to her and how she's going to get out of this one, when she hears someone pounding on the door. It's a man, and it sounds almost like he's calling her name. Almost, but not quite. Jen, he says, not Jean. But he's not going anywhere, so Jean wraps herself in the robe hanging on the back of the bedroom door and then goes to see who's come calling.

His suit is black, and nice, but nowhere near so fine as Lucien's. His face is handsome enough, his hair thick and soft. He's tall, too, though not so broad as Lucien. And when he sees her, he swears.

"Jesus," he says. If Jean knew him she'd chide him for his language but the man is a stranger to her, and she bites her tongue.

"Where is she?" He asks after a moment.

Jean deliberates with herself. She doesn't know this man, doesn't know if he means her harm, but she doesn't know where she is or how she got here, and his eyes are kind.

"You better come in," she says.

So Jean tells Nick her story, and Nick tells her about his Jennifer. Nick "runs interference" (that's what he calls it, anyway) between Jean and Jennifer's job. He takes her out, shows her the city, helps her buy groceries, keeps her company when he can, around the job.

"You miss her, don't you?" Jean asks him one night. They're eating Chinese food Nick picked up from a shop, and while Jean has come to find she quite enjoys it, she can't bring herself to eat out of the cartons and insists she plate up their meal properly. Nick doesn't protest.

"Yeah," he says. "I do."

Nothing more than that. He's a quiet man, Jean's found. Not brash and endlessly jabbering like Lucien, but kind, still, for all that.

Jean and Nick are the ones who figure it out, in the end. Jennifer Mapplethorpe, born in 1969, is the daughter of none other than Amy Parks, Jean's wayward niece. Since it was only 1960 when Jean left her life she has of course never met her great-niece. Jen never met her great aunt, having spent her childhood in Melbourne, believing she had no family beyond her parents.

"Maybe that's why," Nick says quietly as they look over the family tree they've drawn out together. "Maybe you're here so that we can fix it, so that whatever made Amy leave Ballarat doesn't happen. So she doesn't feel so alone."

"But if Amy never leaves Ballarat, you'd never have your Jennifer," Jean points out.

Nick smiles. "Oh, I don't know," he says. "Fate's thrown us together twice already. Third time lucky, and all that."

The next morning Jean wakes up in her own bed, and she thinks of Nick, and she smiles. His quiet, steady nature was a comfort to her in that wild world, and she has learned so much from him. The most important lesson being: don't waste time.

So she races downstairs in her pink nightgown. The light is on in Lucien's office and she doesn't hesitate to approach. At the sound of her footfall he calls out, "Jennifer?" And it is that, more than anything, that convinces Jean that this is real.

"Expecting someone else?" She asks softly as she steps through the door.

Lucien vaults to his feet, his eyes full of wonder.

"Jean?" He breathes.

"I'm here, Lucien," she says, and in the next instant he is racing out from behind his desk, crushing her against his chest.

"I missed you," he whispers, and when Jean lifts her chin, and sees the look of devotion in his eyes, she just smiles, and kisses him senseless. No time like the present, she thinks.

In Melbourne Jennifer wakes up in her own bed, and she's so happy she could cry. Lucien has his Jean back, and they'll be happy, she knows. Now Jen has her car and her mobile and her little house and the Chinese takeaway place she loves so much; now Jen is home, and home means work, and the boys, and Nick, Nick more than anything.

The thought no sooner occurs to her than she hears someone knocking on her front door. She knows, somehow, that it's Nick. Who else would it be?

She races out of her bedroom half dressed, flings the door open, and watches as his mouth drops open in shock.

"Jen," he says, and she has missed the sound of his voice saying her name so much that to hear it now shatters her restraint. With a little cry she breaks, and races into his arms; Nick lifts her bodily from the ground, her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, her face pressed in close to him.

"I missed you," she says. "I missed you."

Nick just kicks the door closed, and carries them both to her bedroom. They both call in sick that day.

#anonymous #tagging this #Jean and Jen #switching places #so i can find it later #for reference

22 notes · View notes

n1ghtwarden · 1 year ago

Text

the changeling's smile cuts worse than any blade of its' own; deep within the night warden's skin and the web of scars orin the red had left within her. she cannot look into any mirror now without remembering what was done to her. without seeing it. and where the scars of old battle wounds and failed assassination attempts had once filled minthara baenre with pride - a testament to her strength, her prowess - the new brought only shame. minthara baenre, pride of menzoberranzan, defeated - and she had not even had the grace to die in battle, nor the strength to escape. she had survived solely on orin's will; to become a toy for orin to cut and slice and shape. the shame will haunt her - so will those pale eyes, that wet slash of a mouth - until she goes to her grave.

" i will not give you the satisfaction of a death that you crave, orin. your end will not be so much of a spectacle as it will be the pity of putting down a rabid dog. " their name is a snarl on her lips; teeth bared despite the way her voice wavers with fear and bravado. minthara baenre, daughter of lolth, is not afraid. does not know the meaning of it. no, she is not afraid - she is petrified. there is no way to strike without bringing orin some twisted satisfaction; and minthara's own gut twists, bile rising in her throat - she wants orin to die screaming for the mercy minthara does not possess. wants her to feel just as small as she did - frozen with terror.

every word twists into her shattered mind; curling into the recesses of it - and her expression puckers, pinches. knife of the absolute had been a misnomer. butcher, more accurate - a thousand she'd killed before; perhaps more - never bothering to remember names and faces - but these - whenever the night warden lays her head down to rest, all she can see are their faces. all she can hear are their screams. senseless slaughter, lives wasted - all to satiate the changeling's bloodlust.

and minthara knows that feeling. she does. the thrill of it, the power of it - red and thick; copper and iron - warm. the comparison sits off kilter in her mind's eye - how many twists and turns in her path until she might have stood where orin stands now?

" cease your endless, jabbering prattle. i will no sooner be a sacrifice to your foolish god than you will meet anything but an end like any other of your kind. tell me, orin, will your precious lord favour you once i have you cowed at my feet? " her fingers close around the shafts of her flails; drawing them out - body braced - and a deep breath passes through her. " come closer - let us put his chosen to a test. "

A MANIC SMILE spread across its countenance at Minthara's threat ( no, not a threat, AN OATH ), a thrilled giggle pushing past obsidian stained lips. " Yes, yes, use your blade to cut, cut, cut away at the flesh of my neck. Let the crimson from my arteries pour down my collar until I am stained completely sticky and OH SO SWEET. Do not stop your depraved butchery until my head is completely free of my body, all that would be left would be a rotting carrion to shower you in ROT AND VISCERA as well as your victory. "

WHAT LOVELY SLAUGHTER the spiderling was capable of, Orin was so fortunate to witness it all. As the worm twisted and devoured away at the buffet which was the drow's gray matter. How SATISFIED was the worm's appetite, as well as the changeling's own appetite for destruction. So many pleading faces did Orin bare witness to before they were bashed in by Minthara's hand until their visages were naught but ground meat and chunks of bone. How lovely her slaughter was when her hand was PROPERLY GUIDED, how marvelous her massacres were indeed.

" You underestimate yourself, little spider, " Orin hissed, pointing an index finger towards the drow. " Your flesh may not sate my murder lord's VIRACIOUS APPETITE as my mind muddled bloodkin might, ohhhhh but you have served him well, " she nodded quickly as her hand curled back into a fist. " Your butchery was most wonderful to behold, the bodies you LEFT TO ROT were all savoured on Bhaal's tongue. To give your cold flesh, crawling with flies, up as a FINAL OFFERING would be most suiting !!! "

It laughed again as the wonderful image of Minthara cold and properly cut up faded from its mind. " Yes, you ARE skip, skipping to your slaughter LITTLE LAMB, and I will savour every last drop of bile and blood you have to give... "

#r they gonna fight.#R O U N D O N E .#murdershaped #ACT II. soon there will be vengeance. then; freedom.

12 notes · View notes

tetrakys · 5 years ago

Note

idk if someone send you that request but it obviously matches Armin: 43, 42 & 52

42. “Just let me finish this/this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times.” & 43. “If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.” & 52. “I’m not jealous! It’s just…you’re mine!”

I’m sorry honey this took me only what… four/five months? 😅 hope it was worth the wait.

I needed something quick and dirty with UL Armin and I remembered this prompt request. I know there’s probably only 3 people here who may be interested in this, so @itsmymindspeaking and @fuckyalllifes this is for us 😂

I chugged my drink in one go, a little dizziness coming to my head. I had spent good part of the night drinking and I was feeling just a little tipsy. It wasn’t like I was bored, I was out with my friends after all, but I wasn’t having the time of my life either.

I looked at Alexy and Morgan kissing passionately without a care in the world, and then at Rosa and Leigh, looking at each other with a complicity that anyone would’ve envied.

Then I looked at the empty seat right next to me.

“Is everything all right, Candy?” Rosa asked, sensing my discomfort. “It’s about Armin, isn’t it? Where is he, anyway? It feels like I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Where do you think?” I replied without managing to hide the annoyance from my voice. “In his dorm room of course. He’s been holed up in there since the beginning of spring break.”

“Wait… he’s not… no it can’t be… is he spending the holidays playing video games 24/7?”

“Of course he is!” Alexy replied before I’d time to say anything. He must’ve caught our conversation between one kiss and the next. “Yesterday morning I left him sitting in front of the tv playing that stupid co-op game he likes so much, and that’s exactly where I found him this evening before we came here. I’m not even surprised, I gave up on him years ago.” He turned back in his seat, looking at Morgan adoringly. “Luckily, I don’t have to suffer through the night because of his constant jabbering with his geek friends, I’ve found a more comfortable accommodation. If I’m kept up all night is for completely different and more pleasurable reasons.”

After those words he started kissing Morgan again, abandoning the rest of the conversation.

“Well,” Rosa went on, “this isn’t right. You can’t let him take you for granted, Candy. Do something!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… try to make him jealous.”

“Ha! You know that won’t work. He’s the least possessive person on the face of the Earth.” I replied a little defeated.

“Then remind him what he’s missing out on by spending the whole time in front of a screen instead of his girlfriend!”

“Meaning? You know that I won’t be able to tempt him with a date. The times we go out, he does it just to please me, if it were for him we would spend the whole day in his room playing games. And don’t get me wrong, I love playing with him, it’s just that sometimes I need more, like…” I hesitated, “I don’t know, I feel like a spoiled child just saying this but… sometimes I just want his undivided attention.”

“Then take it!”

“How?”

She looked at me like I was stupid.

“You’re a woman, it’s not that hard to figure out. Do I need to check your underwear like in high school?”

“There’s no need. But… are you suggesting using my body to beg him for attention? Isn’t it a little too desperate?” I asked biting my lip nervously.

“Aren’t you? Desperate?” she replied ironically. “Look, it’s not that big of deal, really. Even I… you know how Leigh can get sometimes,” she looked at him queuing at the bar to get us a refill. “He’s so passionate about his work. Sometimes I need to remind him to take a break,” she laughed.

“Mmm…” I replied evasively. Her words weren’t completely unreasonable. I was a strong, modern woman, if I wanted something, I just had to take it. I’m a woman hear me roar and all that…

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

—

“Be careful… On your right! No! Fuck! It’s a grenade!”

I was leaning against the doorframe as I stared at my boyfriend, willing him to take notice of me. He was sitting down on the floor, back against the bed, wearing only his boxer shorts and a t-shirt. Controller in his hands, his eyes fixed on the big screen in front of him. I could hear the muffled voices of his teammates coming from the headphones he was wearing.

I’d let myself in thanks to my spare keys ten minutes ago, and since then I’d been waiting for him to strike a conversation with me. A distracted “Hi babe,” was everything that I’d gotten so far.

I thought again about Rosa’s suggestion. Was I really going to do this? Yes, yes I was. It was time to send the message through.

I started from my shoes, removing one at the time, then it was my t-shirt’s turn. I thought it was going to take longer for him to take notice of what was going on, but he must’ve caught the garment dropping to the floor with the corner of his eye, because he sent me a quick glance, surprised, and asked, “what are you doing, babe?”

“Just making myself comfortable,” I replied, as my hands went to the zip of my jeans.

I continued undressing seemingly without a care in the world, and he kept playing, but I could tell he wasn’t as focused as he’d been before. He kept throwing quick glances my way whenever he had a chance.

Soon enough I was left in just my underwear, but I didn’t stop, and went for the clasp of my bra.

“Fuck!” he cried out, he’d clearly messed up something in the game the moment my bra had come off and he’d stared at my breasts one second too long. I could hear irate voices coming from his headphones. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times,” he said in an almost pleading voice.

I simply shook my head as with slow, calculating movements, I slipped my fingers under the hem of my panties and let them fall to the floor.

A horse groan came directly from his throat. “If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.” He tried to sound authoritative, failing miserably. “Please…”

“Keep playing, Armin.” I said walking towards him.

Without giving him any time to realise what I was about to do, I kneeled on the floor and forced my way between his arms, straddling him.

“Candy,” he cried out a little panicked, his hands almost losing their grip on the controller, “what…”

“Shhh…” I whispered in his ear. “Keep playing, not a sound, otherwise your friends are going to figure out something is going on.”

After these words, I started languidly kissing his neck. From the stiffness of his body, around which I was completely enveloped, I knew he was shocked and didn’t know exactly what to do. His shallow breaths were also an indication of his nervousness, and if the angry voices I could hear yelling at him from his headphones weren’t indication enough of the fact that he was pretty distracted, only half concentrating on the game, the hard length pressing against my core would’ve definitely been a telling hint.

“Fuck!” he groaned the moment I lowered the hem of his boxer briefs and took him in my hand. A couple of short, tentative strokes.

“MadHatter what the hell!” I heard someone yelling, and I knew Armin was finding more and more difficult to concentrate. Without wasting any more time, I lowered myself onto him, filling me to the hilt.

“Shhh…” I whispered again, as he started making a series of unintelligible sounds. “Don’t even think about muting the mic. Eyes on that screen and play, I know how important it is to you.”

I started riding him slowly, almost excruciatingly slow. I knew I was making him go completely crazy. My hands where at each side of his head, holding the bed frame. No other parts of our bodies were touching, except for our cores, and my nipples rubbing against his still clothed chest, every time I moved up and down.

“Candy… Fuck… I can’t… this is too hot…”

I knew he’d dropped the controller the moment I felt both of his hands on my ass, as he started guiding my movements faster and deeper. The irate protests of his teammates coming from the headphones signalled he’d just left out of the blue in the middle of the game. Everyone was probably getting slaughtered by the other team, but he didn’t seem to care. He took my lips with his and gave me a hungry, mind-blowing kiss.

Our movements got wilder, the pace almost brutal, punishing. I was throwing all my anger into it and, at the same time, he was taking everything and demanding even more, his fingers probably leaving ten small bruises on the skin of my ass cheeks. I was sure we would either pass out soon due to lack of oxygen or seriously hurt ourselves.

A few minutes later, when he took one of my nipples in his mouth and sucked it roughly, I came completely undone, crying out his name as he spent himself inside me.

“I don’t know what I did to make you so angry,” he said after a while, as we both caught our breaths, “but I should probably do it more often.”

“Or maybe you should just pay me some fucking attention,” I retorted. “Instead of playing with your online friends all the time. And then, maybe, you would get fucked senseless more often.”

He moved his head so that now he was looking at me in the eye with his signature jokester smile. “Are you jealous, babe?”

I grabbed his hair, pulling maybe a little more roughly than necessary. “I’m not jealous! It’s just…you’re mine!”

“That, I am.” Without losing his hold on me, he got up and threw me onto the bed.

“Armin what the…”

“I told you, didn’t I? If I had to stop playing, you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.” He cheekily, replied as he took off his t-shirt and underwear and joined me on the bed.

He didn’t go back online until the end of spring break.

#my candy love #mclul #mcl armin #amour sucré #mcl #my writing #writeblr #writing prompts #lemon

69 notes · View notes

singsfromthesoul · 5 years ago

Text

‘Alice By Heart’ and AWAE

Okay so while I know we’re all reeling from the season finale and coming to grips with/fighting against the cancellation but I’ve been thinking about the overlaps between these two stories for months so bear with me. I’ve wanted to write an AU but haven’t because I can’t find AWAE equivalents for some of the ABH characters (esp the villains). I’m gonna try and gather the lyrics that most remind me of AWAE and its characters (bc honestly “And who knew what to do with all I felt for you, in the song of the afternoon...” just SCREAMS s3 shirbert).

‘Still’

Gilbert is obviously the Alfred/White Rabbit equivalent here, and I think this song works a lot with his character. Since the death of his father, Gilbert seems to want nothing more than to keep moving forward and, by consequence, grow up. I see this in Alfred’s desire to outrun the clock (and his own death) and Alice’s insistence that he stay with her in this moment (a very Anne thing to do, I would say).

[Alfred]

“Oh, I'm ahead of my time Still If I keep moving Forward, and I fall behind Still So much to do when

But how can I stop the clock in me When I'm chasing me Still Time is chasing me Still”

[...]

[Alice]

“Stay Where the grasses sway The river stopped moving Here, with the lazy blue day Your roses just blooming

So why can't we linger and dream?

Walk with me

Still Linger on with me Still”

‘Those Long Eyes’

There’s not a whole lot to this one, only that I was thinking about it A LOT when the 3x05 dance happened bc it’s got some really nice waltz-y vibes. Also, the description of “his hard shell and those long eyes” reminds me of Ruby’s assessment that Gilbert is a sad and handsome boy.

“[CHESHIRE PUSS] Just hold her by the claws and whisper, "Lobs Let’s give this tide" Dance, and give yourself to his hard shell And those long eyes”

[...]

“ [ALICE, CHESHIRE PUSS, WHITE RABBIT] Just hold her by the claws and whisper, "Lobs Let's waltz all night" Dance, and give yourself to nothing else But those long eyes Waltz and waltz all night Ignore the tide In those long eyes”

‘Sick to Death of Alice-ness’

The argument within this song is the painful one of people who know each other well enough to hit where it hurts. Which we hate, obviously. However, we know that Gilbert hasn’t held back in terms of calling Anne out if the situation calls for it. This one gives me vibes of the misunderstandings of early s3 but especially the argument (if it even can be called that) in s1 after Gilbert’s dad’s funeral.

[MAD HATTER, DORMOUSE, & MARCH HARE/ALFRED]

“Stop the analyzing Of everything you've read No more making nice with us We don’t want in your head”

It’s interesting how the argument makes Alice’s insecurities rise in a way we haven’t seen up to that point, and how closely they mirror Anne’s. Her struggles and awareness of them can sometimes blind her to those of others.

[ALICE] “It's all about your pain

[MAD HATTER & DORMOUSE] Alice-ness

[MARCH HARE/ALFRED] Sorry, but whose pain?

[MAD HATTER & DORMOUSE] Sick to death

[ALICE] You'll leave me all the same”

‘Brillig Braelig’

This is a tricky one because the lyrics are kinda gibberish but hit the mood somehow. The Jabberwocky teases Alice about Alfred’s impending death with a lot of medical gibberish and she argues that she won’t let it happen. There’s also the idea of the Jabberwocky as an abstract, the sorrow that we let creep into our heads and make itself comfortable there. I think both Anne and Gilbert have a lot of this and that the defiant stance that Alice takes is very Anne-like. No idea who could be the Jabberwocky equivalent though.

[JABBERWOCKY] “There was a day the world was made Of you and room and catch- And then one day the sorrow came And you moved into that And then callai a Jabber came And made his room your mind And jabber-ached and jabber-played And jabber all the time”

[...]

[ALICE] “Words aren't what you say they mean He's not some diagnosis

[JABBERWOCKY & SOLDIERS] This is where your story ends Go down your hole and hole up

[ALICE] Senseless, heartless idiot I will not give his soul up!”

‘Some Things Fall Away’

The Cheshire Cat (played in ABH by a female actress) has a conversation with Alice about the nature of loss. Honestly I kinda really want Ms Stacy to be Cheshire here even though it’s also a moment that could easily come from Marilla as well. I’ll link the lyrics because the whole song is beautiful.

“Shadows pause at the window Meet their gaze Their grief is yours”

‘Isn’t it a Trial?’

Season 3 in particular, has Anne teetering on the line between childhood and adulthood. This song features Alice being put on trial for having the sheer audacity to grow up. It talks about the confusion of being stuck between the two and how feelings of attraction can begin to mark the line between phases. It hits a lot of interesting sweet spots but I can’t think of a good equivalent for the Queen of Hearts.

[QUEEN OF HEARTS] “Shall we have a song For the girl gone naughty Somehow feels so wrong Now to have that body Rabbit got so big What's his mama fed him Don't you feel a pig Still you want to pet him

Well, isn't it a trial To try and stay a child The world no longer fits And still you're stuck in it Isn't it a trial No child can stay a child”

‘I’ve Shrunk Enough’

Alice decides that growing up is, in fact, not a crime and with the help of Alfred-as-the-White-Rabbit and Cheshire she gtfo’s out of the trial. Once again, Alice’s defiance and refusal to play by the rules imposed by others is very Anne-like.

[ALICE] “No queen can make of me A mouth without a scream”

[...]

“No shuffling with my soul My highness is your low Stand back and watch me grow

[ALICE & CHESHIRE PUSS] Oh, and I am hugest Faced with fools like you, yes Schooled by your abuses But you're out of time Growing up is not a crime”

[...]

[ALICE & WHITE RABBIT] “Go back to being pictures in my dreams You're nothing but a hatter holding tea Telling riddles not worth answering It's done, I'm done, I've shrunk enough”

‘Afternoon’

Alice and Alfred say their final goodbyes as Alfred succumbs to his illness. But that’s hella tragic and if I did, in fact, write that AU I wouldn’t kill Gilbert off because I just couldn’t. However this is the moment when Alfred and Alice speak most plainly about their feelings and and I get shirbert vibes from some of it.

[ALFRED] “I knew you were a strange girl or I thought you were You mustered all the wonder from the room of hurt We knew the world of summer Like a sister, like a brother And the melodies were sweeter left unheard”

[...]

[ALICE] “And who knew what to do With all I felt for you In the song of the afternoon Afternoon”

‘Winter Blooms’

Alice learns to deal with her sorrow, instead of running away from it. Much in the same way that Anne eventually decides to let go of her imaginary friends and worlds as a coping mechanism and face the world head on. In both cases, it’s a sign of growth and maturity. And in the case of Anne, it’s not even necessary to kill off the love interest to achieve it.

[ALICE SPENCER & TABATHA] “Nothing comes or goes without a shadow Somewhere in the soul you hold a candle Let the sorrow go, it's half the battle”

These were some of my thoughts on the subject, I’m totally up for discussion and ideas! I’d love to make this AU happen but I don’t really know how and it certainly doesn’t help that the plot of this musical is so loose.

#awae #anne with an e #alice by heart #shirbert #this got waayy longer than expected and took pretty long to write as well #join me in my holy mission to think up incredibly niche aus that nobody wants but haunt me

18 notes · View notes

sushigirlali · 6 years ago

Text

The Politics of Dancing - Part I (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Summary: Ben has known Rey most of her life, but when things change between them one tumultuous night, can he convince her that they have a future? Or will secret legacies, scheming parents, and fetching suitors get in the way?

Parings: Rey + Ben Solo|Kylo Ren, Finn + Rose Tico

Continuity: Regency AU

Rating: E

A/N: Pride and Prejudice is my jam, so I’ve been wanting to set a story in the Regency period for a long time. This is also a Christmas fic, so happy belated holidays, everyone! Also, special shout-out to a few of my fellow Capricorn mutuals! Happy Birthday, @rad-braybury & @dvrkrey & @atchamberlin 💙❤️ Can’t wait to see what you talented Reylos come up with on the lead up to EPIX and beyond!

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

The Politics of Dancing - Part I

By: sushigirlali

——————

London, December 1818

——————

Lounging indolently on his mother’s favorite crimson chaise, Ben Solo pretended to listen to the incessant prattle of the desperate debutant sitting across from him. Miss what’s-her-name was more demanding than most, but unfortunately for her, he was too busy searching for his uncle’s distractingly beautiful ward to care.

Where is she? Ben frowned, smoky eyes darting toward the grand staircase for the fourth time in as many minutes. It’s been nearly three hours.

Impatiently tapping his fingertips against the soft velvet of the couch, Ben wondered whether he should go check on her. Purely out of concern for her wellbeing, of course. She must be tried after last night, he smirked.

Recalling the sated look on Rey Niima’s flushed face as he brought her to orgasm after shattering orgasm the night before, Ben shifted restlessly in his seat. It would be unseemly to make a spectacle of himself in his parents’ drawing room, but the memory of his lover’s tantalizing response was proving difficult to suppress.

Turning in the direction of the immaculately decorated evergreen tree in the corner, Ben attempted to focus on something less sexually charged when a sudden sense of déjà vu struck him. The room had been similarly decorated the first day he’d met Rey, more than fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years, Ben marveled. It seems like a lifetime ago now…

Orphaned at the age of five when her parents died in a freak factory fire while touring their holdings in the industrial district, Rey’s future had been precarious in the days leading up to Christmas. The Niima’s were of the nouveau riche variety, and consequently, they owed money to numerous lenders, up to and including the Bank of England itself. But with no other family or capital to help settle her parent’s ill-kempt accounts, Luke and Leia had felt it was their duty as longtime friends of Lord and Lady Niima to take care of Rey in their stead.

As a spoiled teenager, he’d been resentful of the attention she’d garnered from his family, feeling left out while his mother fussed over Rey like the daughter she’d always wanted. But despite his attitude in those early years, Rey had blossomed under the Skywalker’s care.

Since money was no issue for one of the wealthiest families in the country, Rey was afforded everything a young lady needed to thrive in society, including a world class education in music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages. In addition, Luke fully supported her dream of studying mathematics and engineering, something no other lady of his acquaintance could boast.

But then, we’re an unconventional family, Ben allowed.

Although Skywalker Manor was entailed to Luke as his father’s heir, his uncle had opted to raise Rey in his small but comfortable country estate instead, leaving the mansion in London to his beloved sister and best friend. The move had raised quite a few manicured eyebrows, but Luke had never been one to follow tradition.

I’m still curious about what his motives could have been. Beyond the Skywalker party line, that is.

Whenever the subject was broached, his mother simply stated that her brother had volunteered to mentor Rey out of loneliness, but Ben wasn’t so sure; the old hermit seemed pretty self-sufficient to him. Still, it was impossible to deny the effect that Rey’s bright personality had had on his uncle’s taciturn disposition.

Or mine, for that matter, he thought wryly, acknowledging how thoroughly the young ingénue had wormed her way into his heart.

The initial antagonism he’d felt toward Rey had ended the year before he’d gone away for University, when old man Snoke had slashed him across the face for stealing apples from his prized orchard. Although he’d been guilty of the crime, the brass seven-year-old had covered for him with his parents, making up a story about how he’d cut his cheek on a tree branch while out riding instead.

He’d felt guilty for deceiving his parents, but when Snoke suddenly succumbed to syphilis a few weeks later, Ben didn’t see the point in correcting the lie; it was best to let the past die with his attacker as far as he was concerned.

Tracing the faint mark still maring his right cheek, Ben contemplated the old injury. It had piqued his vanity at first, but the slight imperfection hadn’t stopped him from attracting friends—or women—while attending Oxford. In fact, most people seemed to be interested in the faded scar while far less were off-put by it.

I’m sure my family’s money had something to do with it as well, he mused, not blind to the fact that his status had paved the way through a great many obstacles.

After school, Ben had worked for his father for a number of years, traveling around the world and securing their interests against outside threats. By twenty-six, he’d earned a reputation for being a ruthless negotiator and was able to stave off French control of his family’s assets leading up to Napoléon’s defeat at Waterloo in 1815.

He was proud of all he’d accomplished while abroad, but once the war was over, Ben was shocked to discover how much Rey had grown up in his absence. Coming home on her eighteenth birthday, he’d been instantly captivated by her delicate beauty and unbridled intelligence. Ignoring his growing attraction to the lively orphan had become more difficult with every subsequent family gathering, but the ten-year age gap between them had given him pause.

Up until last night, that is.

Now twenty-one, Rey was fully in control of her own sexuality; she knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. He supposed he should’ve resisted her advances when she slipped into his room after the rest of the house had gone to bed the previous evening, but after flirting with her all throughout dinner, not to mention the several glasses of wine he’d imbibed, Ben hadn’t been able to keep his hands off his adopted cousin.

Thank the maker that we’re not actually related.

Succumbing to her charms had been a long time coming and he was frankly impressed with himself for holding out for so—

“Don’t you think, Lord Ren?”

“Huh?” Ben stared blankly at the source of the interruption.

“I was remarking on unpatriotic Lady Lintra’s gown is!” she tittered. “It’s just so French!”

Lady who?

“Lord Ren?” she said when he didn’t react, resting a hand on his muscular thigh. “Are you listening to—”

Staring past the airhead still jabbering away at him, Ben’s jaw dropped as Rey appeared at the top of the stairs in a striking ivory gown. She wore no jewelry or makeup, but the healthy glow in her cheeks made her look radiant. Her hair, swept up into an intricate coiffure and studded with little white flowers, completed the look to perfection.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said absently, ignoring his suitor’s feeble protests as he brushed her off.

Moving to intercept Rey, Ben’s jovial mood quickly soured as she brushed past him without a word, crossing the room to seek the company of Finn Johnson instead.

What the hell?!

Ben had only known the Earl for a short time, but judging by the warm reception on her lovely face, Rey and Finn were old chums. Up until tonight, he’d liked the younger man, but now he wasn’t so sure…

——————

Rolling her eyes at the frivolous bows and bonnets vying for Lord Ren’s attention, Rey covertly tracked his movements through the crowd. He was all politeness and grace when it was time to turn on the charm, but if the ladies of the ton knew how hot-blooded he really was, they’d be shocked senseless.

Glaring at the dark-haired woman who’d been fondling Ben’s thigh when she walked in, Rey wondered whether Ben had slept with her as well. Had this painted tart been as agreeable as she’d been the night before? The thought didn’t sit well with her, but having fallen for the conceited wretch herself, she really couldn’t blame the young coquette if she had.

Don’t be a hypocrite, Rey, you would’ve done anything to have him just last night; and you did. Shivering as she recalled the pleasure of losing herself in Ben Solo’s arms at long last, Rey diverted her attention back to her lifelong friend. It was much easier to endure her inexplicable jealousy with Finn around.

“So, how is Rose? Have you proposed yet?” Rey inquired mischievously.

“Shh!” Finn whispered, looking around to make sure no one had overheard. “I’m still working out the finer points, so I’ll thank you to hold your tongue until the moment is right.”

“It’s been three years, Finn, how much longer are you going to make the girl wait?” she teased.

“Until such a time as I can convince my family that I’m not throwing my life away by marrying a, and I quote, ‘uncultured commoner who’s only after my fortune.’ ”

“Oh, Finn…” Rey said sympathetically.

“Why do you think my mother has been pushing for us to make a match? She’s in love with all that nice Skywalker money,” he said in disgust.

“It’s not like she would see any money out of the arrangement. Uncle Luke has been like a father to me, sure, but I’m not a Skywalker. I’m not blood,” she said without heat.

“But you’re his heir,” Finn stated glibly, “so that doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“I’m his—what?” Rey exclaimed, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “Wherever did you hear such an outrageous lie?” she hissed.

“What?” Finn gaped at her. “Wait a minute! Wait just a damn minute! You don’t know? He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” she said uncertainly.

“Luke submitted a last will and testament to his lawyer right after your twenty-first birthday, naming you heir to the Skywalker fortune,” he informed her.

“But…what about Ben?” Rey made the mistake of glancing at him across the room, drawing Ben’s attention away from his latest admirer. “Oh, no, he’s—”

“Leia’s son, not Luke’s,” Finn reminded her.

“No! He’s walking toward us,” Rey interrupted. “Quick! Dance with me! I need a moment to think.”

Finn immediately complied, taking her hand and leading her into a simple country dance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring this on you. I assumed you knew.”

Rey shook her head. “Luke never said a word.”

“I know he’s not the most talkative chap, but he should’ve discussed this with you before acting,” Finn said thoughtfully, tracing his foot along the floor.

“Tell me about it,” she said, matching his steps with practiced ease.

“Why do you think he kept it to himself?”

“Probably to keep me from running off before Christmas,” she sighed. “I never would have come to London if I’d known that Luke was going to strip Ben of his inheritance.”

“Do you think Ren knows?”

“I’m not sure,” Rey said hesitantly. “Why?”

Finn eyed the other man over her shoulder. “He’s been watching you since you descended the staircase. He looks…well, angry isn’t the right word. Jealous, maybe?”

“Jealous? I’m sure you’re mistaken,” she laughed, trying to play down Ben’s interest. Now wasn’t the time to admit that she was a fallen woman and Ben was likely feeling territorial. There were more pressing matters at hand. “He’s probably just bored and looking for someone to talk to. We are family, after all.”

Finn seemed to accept her explanation, but he kept looking from her to Ben and back again as if trying to work something out.

“But back to you!” Rey attempted to divert him. “Tell me more about Rose. I hear she’s quite the tinkerer…”

Rey half-listened as Finn began talking animatedly about the woman he hoped to marry, thinking back to the morning of her and Luke’s arrival several days ago. Ben hadn’t been hostile when he’d greeted them at the estate’s grand entrance gate and helped them unload the carriage, so it seemed unlikely that he knew about Luke’s revised will. If anything, he’d been more approachable than usual.

Ben’s never been particularly sociable, although his attitude has certainly improved over the years…among other things. Rey bit her lip as she remembered how he’d looked without a stitch of clothing on, how he’d felt lying full-length on top of her.

She’d been shy at first, despite provoking the situation, but Ben had taken his time with her, arousing her until she was breathless and begging. But did he take such good care of me because he wanted me as much as I wanted him or…? Rey stalled as a terrible thought crossed her mind.

What if Ben knew about his change of status and simply hadn’t let on? What if he’d slept with her knowing that she would be compromised and therefore beholden to him if he chose to make her loss of innocence known? Would Ben stoop to sleeping with her to ensure that he had access to Luke’s money?

Once again searching for him in the crowd, Rey started when she realized that Ben had maneuvered himself behind her partner, clearly intent on cornering her before she left the dance floor.

“Rose and her sister, Paige, are both—”

“Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Finn said, giving Rey a quizzical look.

“Ben’s right behind you!” she whispered. “What should I do if he asks me to dance? I have no idea what to say to him right now.”

“You’d better brace yourself then,” Finn chuckled as he looked over his shoulder, “because I don’t think he’s going to take ��no’ for an answer.”

——————

Glowering as Rey leaned into conversation with her handsome partner, Ben waited impatiently for a break in the music. Feeling like a fool for waxing poetic about her for hours on end while she was content to ignore him in favor of another man, Ben was determined to get an explanation out of her. Had their midnight rendezvous meant so little to her? Was he the only one who’d laid their heart on the line? He had to know.

“Lady Niima, may I have the next dance?” he requested as soon as the last note sounded, giving Finn the barest of nods before holding out his arm for Rey.

“If you must,” she said tightly, curving her fingers around his thick bicep while her friend respectfully stepped to the side.

“Thank you, my lady,” Ben said, amused by her haughty tone. Damn, but he liked her. “Give me your hand,” he directed when the orchestra took up a dreamy ballad.

“A waltz?” Rey inquired curiously, assuming the correct posture by placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his. “Are you sure we should be doing this, my lord?”

“Whatever do you mean?” he replied, expertly leading her into the foreign dance.

“In some circles, the waltz is considered inappropriate between unwed men and women, as you well know—oh!” she gasped as he suddenly swept her off her feet and twirled her in a wide circle. “Ben!” she laughed in an unguarded moment of pure joy, exhilarated by his display of strength.

“That’s better,” Ben beamed, lacing their fingers together. “I’ve been waiting to see you smile again all day, sweetheart.”

Rey’s eyes widened at the endearment before sliding surreptitiously around the room. “Put me down, please,” she said coolly.

Gently lowering her to the ground, Ben searched her pretty face. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she denied curtly.

“You’re angry with me,” he said in surprise, picking up on her mood.

“I’m angry with myself,” Rey corrected.

“Whatever for?”

“I’m not like you, Ben,” Rey huffed. “Despite what I instigated last night, I can’t just sleep around and damn the consequences. I can’t just flirt with whomever I want and hope for the best. If I want to make a good marriage, I have to—”

“Who do you intend to marry?” he interrupted sharply, pulling her to a stop. “Johnson?”

“It doesn’t matter. Look, there’s something I need to tell—”

“Of course it matters!” Ben growled, tightening his hold. “You’re mine!”

“Excuse me?! I’m no one’s property,” she shot back.

“Don’t test me, Rey, I’m not in the mood for games,” he said, dragging her flush against him and lowering his lips to within an inch of her own. “We’re nowhere near done with each other and you well know it.”

“I don’t—Ben, you’re too close,” Rey whispered, swaying towards him in spite of her words. “People will talk.”

“Let them.”

“Ben…”

“Come out onto the terrace with me, then,” he said, ghosting his lips over hers. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until we’ve discussed this properly.”

“I shouldn’t,” Rey faltered.

“But you want to,” he said confidently.

“Yes,” she conceded, “but don’t let that go to your thick head, you arrogant swine!”

“Never,” Ben smiled, backing off slightly and placing her hand in the crook of his arm. “Right this way, my lady.”

——————

Alarm bells were going off in her head as Ben lead her out to the deserted veranda, but she ignored them. What could he possibly do to her thirty feet from his mother’s packed drawing room?

Quite a lot, as it turned out.

Rey moaned as his wide lips crashed over hers the moment they reached a secluded alcove. He didn’t give her time to think let alone argue, backing her into the cool balustrade and cupping the back of her head with firm fingers. Leaning into his massive chest without a shred of self-preservation, Rey gripped the front of his finely made dinner jacket, pulling him even closer. It felt so good to be in his arms again.

Too good. Get ahold of yourself, Rey. You were supposed to discuss…you were…there was something… Losing her train of thought as Ben’s hips slid into contact with hers, Rey was instantly aware of the hard jut of his body. He was a large man, her Ben, all over.

When they parted to catch their breath few tumultuous minutes later, Ben took the opportunity to rumble, “Does Finn Johnson kiss you like that?” and ruin the moment.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded by the abrupt accusation.

“Johnson,” he glowered. “How long have you known him?”

“Finn? Why do you—Ben, are you jealous?” Rey gaped, shocked by the notion. The man’s family had more money than the crown for goodness sake! He could have anything he wanted, any woman he wanted. So, why was he jealous of her?

“Of course I am! You went from my arms to his within a matter of hours!” he grumbled, honest to the point of insolence. “It’s insulting!”

“That wasn’t my intent.”

“This isn’t funny, Rey. I need to know how deeply you’re involved with—”

“Ben, it’s not like that,” Rey interjected. “You needn’t be jealous; the Earl and I are just friends. We used to play together as children, that’s all.”

“Just friends, huh?”

“Yes! And if you don’t believe me, you can—”

“I believe you,” he broke in. “You’re many things, Rey Niima, but you’re not a liar.”

“Oh, well, good,” she said lamely.

A tense silence stretched between them until Ben chuckled, his deep voice surrounding her in the relative darkness of their hideaway. “Is that what we are?”

“What?”

“Friends,” he said with a crooked grin. “Are we friends?”

“We’re…” Family? Friends? Lovers? Rey trembled with uncertainty and barely repressed desire. Tell him, Rey. Tell him about Luke. “I don’t know what we are.”

“Is that why you’re upset with me?” he probed, absently playing with the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. It was an oddly comforting gesture and Rey had to fight not to lean into it. “Because you’re unsure about the future of our relationship?”

“The future of our relationship?” she parroted.

“We’re lovers, Rey,” Ben reminded her with a smirk. “You’re my woman now.”

“I’m not—we’re not—it was a one-time thing,” she stammered. Tell him!

“We’ll see about that,” he challenged, dipping his head toward hers again.

“Am I the only one?” she queried, quickly turning her cheek to avoid his tempting mouth. “What about that woman who was hanging all over you earlier?”

“What woman?” Ben tilted her chin to make her look at him again.

“The one sitting next to you on that ostentatious bolt of red velvet when I came downstairs,” Rey reminded him.

“Oh, her?” he said dismissively. “I barely heard a word she said to me; I was waiting for you.”

“You were?”

Ben nodded, gently framing her flushed face. She tried not to melt under his sincere stare, but it was tough going.

“Well, you still shouldn’t have let that black-haired hussy put her hands on you the day after making love to me,” she chastised half-heartedly. Did you make love to me? Or was it just…

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her freckled cheek.

“Stop it,” Rey breathed.

“Stop what?”

“You know what!”

Ben trailed his lips across her face to her mouth, but he didn’t close the distance. “Kiss me, Rey.”

Don’t you dare, Rey! You need to find out what he knows about the inheritance before you give into your baser needs. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it!

“Please,” he whispered longingly.

Dammit.

Rey slammed her lips over his, kissing him so fiercely that he actually staggered back a few paces before wrapping her up against him. His hands were in her hair, on her body, everywhere, as uncoordinated as his harsh breathing, showing her without words just how much he wanted her. Emboldened by his enthusiastic response, Rey fumbled with the buttons holding his coat closed, frantic to push aside her doubts and lose herself in his arms instead.

Argh! Why won’t these stupid things—

“Ben? Rey? Are you out here?”

The young couple froze in horror as Han Solo’s voice cut through their passion like a knife.

“Oh my god!” Rey exclaimed. “Your father!”

“Bloody hell,” Ben swore.

“Oh my god!” she repeated. “Ben, if he catches us like this…”

“It’s okay, we’re well hidden,” he assured her, but his tone was less than convincing.

“Are you sure? What if—”

“Calm down,” he mumbled, still breathing harshly.

“Calm down?!” Rey returned incredulously. “Calm down?! How dare—”

Ben laughed despite the seriousness of the situation, hugging her close. “I was talking to myself.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” she said sheepishly as his arousal nudged her flat stomach. “So, what should we do?”

“You go first and take my father back inside. If he asks, tell him something came up and I had to step away,” he instructed.

“What about you?”

“I’ll follow in a few minutes, once I’ve had time to collect myself.”

“Okay,” Rey agreed. “How do I look?” she asked, stepping back.

“Beautiful,” he said gruffly.

Blushing to the roots of her sable hair at the appreciative look on Ben’s handsome face, Rey impulsively reached up to place a kiss on his long chin. “Don’t be too long.” Hurrying forward before he had a chance to respond, Rey intercepted Han before he could wander too far from the house. “Here I am, uncle! Is it time for supper yet? I’m starved!”

“Just about,” Han replied. “Leia sent me on a mission to find you and my son. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“Ben? He went upstairs to take care of something,” Rey said easily. “He should be back shortly, though.”

“Is that so?” Han raised one dark eyebrow, taking in her slightly disheveled appearance.

“Yes,” she lied, nervously tucking an errant curl behind her ear. “Shall we?” Rey indicated the patio door.

“We shall, my dear,” he chuckled, looking toward the spot where she and Ben had been sequestered before turning around and opening the door for her. “I think you’ll find the seating arrangement interesting this evening,” Han said conversationally, taking her arm and leading her across the dance floor and into the dining room. “Your aunt really knows how to plan an entertaining party.”

Confused by his enigmatic statement, Rey just smiled and nodded. As long as nobody looked at her too closely, she was sure that she could survive the rest of the evening without scandal and have a civil conversation with Ben about Luke’s will after dinner.

But as Rey sat down in her assigned seat near the head of the huge dining table, Han’s words came into startling focus. Reading the name cards on either side of her plate with growing trepidation, Rey realized that Poe Dameron, Viscount of Yavin, was to be her dinner companion for the evening, not Ben.

Oh, Leia, she sighed when Ben arrived a few moments later, looking apoplectic as his mother escorted him to the other end of the table. You don’t even know what you’ve done.

——————

A/N: Or does she?! Haha! You’ll just have to wait and see, friends! I’m planning to finish up the second part of the tale in the next week or so, so please let me know what you think so far. I hope everyone is ready for the Year of Reylo because I sure as hell am!

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #regency au #christmas au #my fanfiction #my art #sushigirlali #the politics of dancing #happy birthday friends #capricorn

27 notes · View notes

meowloudly15 · 6 years ago

Text

Stranded: Day 6 - HAIR-RELATED CRISIS

I RETURN FROM STORY HIATUS AT LONG LAST! Thank you for patiently waiting for my newest installment! I hope it was worth the wait!

Just as a reminder, I've switched to updating solely on Thursdays.

First | Previous | Next

Gwen woke up to the blare of her alarm, blurred lines of text sitting millimeters from her face, and a sore neck. She had fallen asleep while sitting on the floor finishing her homework. She pushed her physics worksheets off of her face and fumbled for her phone.

It was time for another day of school.

Of all the places at which Gwen could have stayed during her duration on this parallel universe, free from all other responsibilities, it had to be a school. At least it was Friday.

ATOMIC DISJUNCTION

As Gwen moved to put her papers in her folder, she fell face-first onto the floor, her face landing on the physics papers. She felt something pop inside her nose. When she finally regained the ability to stand, she found that there was a trace of blood on one of the pieces of paper. She swore.

Today was not going to be a good day. She could just tell.

Physics proved relatively uneventful. Gwen's nose stopped bleeding shortly before class began. She explained the bloodstain to Mrs. Quinn, who accepted the paper with a shrug.

Miles seemed on edge all throughout class. He kept fidgeting with the bottom of his pants and jumping at the slightest noises. Plus, he didn't look like he had slept well.

Besides his twitchiness, something seemed odd about him. Gwen couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

The next few classes passed uneventfully, except for Gwen's periodic atomic disjunctions, of course. She turned in all of her back work except for her history papers, which she had accidentally left in her dorm room in her haste. She told Mr. Adams that she would get them to him by the end of the day.

During lunch, instead of heading directly to the cafeteria, Gwen took a different route, planning to swing by her room to pick up the missing papers. She was in the lobby when she noticed an itch at the base of her skull.

LIKE YOU

Gwen felt somebody bump into her. She turned around and saw Miles.

"Oh!" she said. "Pardon!"

Wait a second.

He had spider-powers, too? That was the reason for his antsiness? How had she not noticed it before? Was it a recent development?

Miles didn't answer. He stood frozen in place. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

Gwen cocked her head to the side. "Are you all right? You look, uh, hot."

Miles replied, "I, uh, it's puberty! Except…" His voice started dropping deeper with every word he said. "Except I'm done with that. I'm a man now."

If Gwen wasn't as adept at bottling up her emotions, she would have laughed at his senseless display of machoness.

"Oh, and I'm Miles."

Gwen brightened up. "I'm Gwe-"

She paused in the middle of her name when she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be called Wanda.

"...eeeeanda."

Miles looked at her in confusion. "Wait, your name is Gwanda?"

Gwen grinned hokily. "Yeah! I-It's African."

She quickly looked down at herself, then at Miles' much darker complexion.

"South African! Uh, no accent, though, 'cause I was raised here, in the States!"

Cover stories were not her forte.

Miles furrowed his brow, then nodded. "Uh, okay."

Had he bought into the story? Gwen couldn't tell.

That was probably the second-worst cover story she had ever made up. Nothing would ever rival the "It's ketchup" moment, although this new "Gwanda" moment came pretty close. There was no way Miles would buy it, unless he was really, really gullible. (For the record, Gwen's dad was not.)

Miles stared at Gwen for what was only a couple of seconds but felt longer, uncomfortably longer.

Had he seen through her flimsy disguise?

Did he realise that she had powers, too?

Gwen started to babble, "Uh, no, not really. My name's Wanda, actually, no G…"

It didn't look like Miles was listening. He wore a thousand-yard stare.

HAIR-RELATED CRISIS

Oh, this couldn't possibly end well.

Miles put his hand on her shoulder. She recoiled slightly.

"Hey."

Gwen blinked and nodded, starting to back away. She became all the more aware of the places that she had to be. "I, uh… okay? I'll see you around."

"See ya." Miles took his hand off of her shoulder, but it passed through her hair, sticking to it.

This was definitely not going to end well.

Miles stared at his hand in shock, then tried to pull it out of Gwen's hair. Of course, it didn't work, and it hurt.

"Hey!" Gwen exclaimed.

He had no idea about his powers, did he? This was not good at all.

Miles gaped. He tried pulling again, nearly yanking Gwen's hair straight out of her head. It was not a fun experience.

"Ow ow ow ow!"

If he kept pulling, provided that he also had super-strength, Gwen was not in for a good time. She grabbed his wrist and pulled it back towards her in an attempt to get him to stop.

"Calm down, okay?"

"Hey, let go of me!" Miles tried to pull his hand back.

"No, hold on, just chill out!"

Gwen had a feeling that they were working at cross purposes.

PERSONS TAKING NOTICE

The two of them started to struggle against each other, Miles trying to get his hand unstuck, Gwen trying to protect herself from getting scalped or having her neck snapped. A crowd of students started to gather. It looked like she couldn't exposition her way out of this mess.

"It's just puberty!" exclaimed Miles.

Gwen gaped. "I don't think you know what puberty is!"

He really didn't know about his powers. That wasn't going to help her. But she still had to get him unstuck, somehow.

"Just try to relax, okay?"

Miles said simultaneously, "I have a plan. I'm gonna pull really hard, and..."

This kid would be the death of her. Literally.

"That's a terrible plan!"

"Count of three. One…"

"No no no no no!"

"Two…"

Right now, Miles was a threat. She had to neutralise the threat. So Gwen grabbed the straps of his backpack and, ducking beneath him, flipped him over her head.

A couple of teachers rushed over and jabbered to the two kids, berated them for fighting on school grounds, asked them what was the matter. Miles didn't respond. Gwen feared that she might have knocked him unconscious by mistake. Or maybe he didn't feel like talking. She couldn't blame him if that was the case.

Gwen told the teachers, "He got his hand stuck in my hair and we couldn't get it out."

They escorted the two students to the nurse's office, where the nurse cut off the part of Gwen's hair that was stuck to Miles' hand. Gwen surveyed the damage with a hand mirror.

Today was not a good day.

Miles put on a quirky smile, hoping to alleviate the tension between them. "Uh, nice to meet you?"

Gwen stared straight ahead, not the slightest bit amused. "Sure. Total pleasure."

What was she supposed to do about her friggin' hair?

Plus, that ordeal had sapped a lot of her lunch period free time. Gwen needed to get to her dorm and get her homework.

Miles, his head hung low, stood up and walked out of the office. He turned around and looked back at her. "I, uh, see you around?"

She rolled her eyes. No puppy-dog gaze would penetrate her stoic exterior.

The nurse walked back over, carrying a pair of scissors. "Wanda, is it?"

Gwen looked over at her and nodded.

"Would you like me to fix your hair? Or try, at least?"

Gwen nodded again. "Can you?"

"Uh, yeah, my son's ex had her hair partly shaved on one side, and I could try to give you that haircut, if you want. Otherwise, you could get a hat-"

Gwen didn't have a hat. "Can you show me what it'd look like?"

The nurse nodded and pulled out her phone. She showed Gwen a picture of a young man standing next to a girl with an undercut.

Gwen shrugged. "That's fine by me. I mean, my hair's ruined anyway. How much worse could you make it?"

The nurse chuckled. "Right, then. Oh, here, put this towel around your neck."

About ten minutes later, Gwen walked out of the nurse's office, her feelings of irritation having subsided. However, there were some hair scraps caught under her clothes, which caused her physical irritation.

She was hungry, but her lunch break was halfway over by now. With luck, she would be able to get food and eat super-

Oh yeah, she had to fetch her history papers from her room. That was important.

PIGEON SWARM

As Gwen walked toward her dorm room, an oddly-shaped shadow appeared on the floor. There was a loud thump. She looked upward and saw Miles, who wasn't wearing a shirt and appeared to be stuck to a bunch of pigeons, lying on the skylight.

Gwen rubbed her eyes, then looked back up in time to see him jolt away.

She hoped nothing bad had happened to him. At the same time, she couldn't help but feel as if he deserved it. Karma was on her side, at least for the time being.

Gwen proceeded onward to her room after gazing around and making certain that nobody else had noticed Miles' sudden appearance. Both surprisingly and fortunately, nobody had.

First | Previous | Next

#spidergwen #spider gwen #ghost spider #gwen stacy #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #marvel #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #spiderverse fanfic #writing #stranded #stranded fanfic

2 notes · View notes

lokikingofasgardslover713 · 7 years ago

Text

Viridescent Odium: Ch.5

Aesthetic courtesy of @prettybubblesintheair

Masterlist

Viridescent Odium MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes x Plus!Size Reader SKRULL

Warnings: Inferred rape, cuddly Bucky.

A/N: I promise! SMUT SOON! But not this chapter! We get some back story & some cuddly, angsty Bucky & reader.

Words: +2,500

Looking out the wall of glass, Y/N replayed the meeting with Carol from a month ago. Fury having to keep the two captains from ripping each other’s throats out, a meeting with the captains, Fury & Y/N. The curses Carol slung at Steve in a tone she hadn’t heard the space captain use since the Kree. The phone in her lap buzzing to bring her out of the memory. Bucky, he had been on her about getting out of the room other than training, missions & debriefings. Letting out a sigh, deciding to open the message.

Bucky: Twins just left, join me for a bite?

Y/N: Just ate, go on without me.

Bucky: It's sushi.

Y/N: No, I'm good, thank you.

After that Y/N tossed the phone on the couch to continue the staring contest with the tree line. It was now June, four more months of Tera left, which meant hell trying to avoid Bucky. Carol asking her to hang on till the delegates meeting in October, to help the Terans get through the pain of so many in one place. The phone buzzing, ruby orbs looking to the communicator that Carol had given her when she was there last, one that to get into contact with Stakar, actually hoping it would light up.

Remembering the moment, graduating the academy, Nova Prime making sure Y/N had a place at her side when becoming head of the corps.

“We need someone skilled in infiltration,” the delegate from one of the moons had begun, it had been so long she had forgotten the aliens planet.

“I have one ready to go,” Nova began, hinting to Y/N who stepped out the wood work, literally, everyone jumping but for Nova who looked at Y/N & smirked.

Carol had been standing with Nova when she revealed herself, the up-roar ear splitting at the fact Y/N had been in the room the entire time, a half breed that would betray them at nothing. An abomination that should be put out of it's misery, thrown out to the abyss or better yet sold to the collector to recuperate all the credits spent on her training. A hardened creature that tuned it out, till now, sitting & looking to the setting sun, phone buzzing again.

Buzzing, that was what it sounded like the day she was beat senseless, a Kree warrior snarling in pointed ear to just be still & let it happen. Noting but a whore, green skin marked with purple that made her skrull to the core, no amount of breeding could ever wash it from ones veins.

Another buzz, this time from the electric prod the Xandarian guard used to nock her to the floor because he had no chance to cripple her otherwise. Harshly drug to the delegate that asked Y/N be brought to her. Stripped bare to stand before the Sovereign leader that walked around Y/N, kept naked before her, studying her, degrading her, curious what it would take to truly break her. Nova the one to find the skrull out in the courtyard of the Nova Corps, beat senseless & naked, all after making the rank of general.

By all rights Y/N should hate everyone, questioning why she didn’t at that moment. Coming out of dark thoughts to realize that it had grown dark, tuning into the music that played low & realizing that it wasn’t what had been playing. Getting to numb feet slowly to realize she wasn’t alone, the music what Bucky played when he was in a nostalgic mood. Turing to the kitchenette, the soldier standing next to the table smiling at her, wearing jeans, t-shirt & a sheepish smile.

“I figured if you weren’t going to come out with me that I would bring it to you,” he admitted, finally stepping forward to reach out for green hand.

“Bucky… look. I know you…. I'm sorry… it want ever be as simple as it would if I was…,” Y/N began, unflinching as he took a shaky hand in a metal one to lift it up for them both to see.

“I know it is not simple doll… you don’t have to tell me… but I don’t care. Come on, let’s eat & watch a movie. It's Friday night, the others are in the common room watching a romantic movie. Figured we would watch something else,” he smiled, making it hard for Y/N to keep a straight face the moment Bucky took the hand he held to press the calloused palm to stubbled cheek.

“See? I don’t care. It changes nothing. Not the way you feel, you touch. It's just a color that the twins scream at the top of their lungs every time they see you. I mean, you handed Steve his ass…,” Bucky chuckled as he tugged thick frame close to wrap a flesh arm around ample waist to sway Y/N gently to the music while the hand he had laid on stubbled cheek slipped to his neck.

Filling the flesh that met the metal underneath the shirt, free hand going to his opposite shoulder as Bucky moved her gently around the room.

“I did hand his ass to him didn’t I,” Y/N smirked up at Bucky, not caring if fangs showed, now that she thought of it Steve had backed off a lot in training.

“That is the best thing I’ve seen in a long time,” Bucky laughed, slowing as the track changed, pulling Y/N with him to the table to pull the seat out & push it in as she sat.

The skrull unable to stop the smile that pulled at emerald lips, taking over once stoic features when the soldier lit the candles that sat on the table. Smiling at him as he finally took a seat, surprised she never heard him placing the plates & food out.

“Thank you Bucky,” Y/N smiled as he moved to begin eating.

“It's no problem doll,” he smiled, remembering how Ann had done little things like this for him, wondering why she did & now finally understanding as he looked at Y/N, he was falling in love with her.

“No, I mean thank you for not giving up…. including me…. For not….,” Y/N spoke kindly, still smiling at the soldier across from her.

“For not pushing you to the side…. Yeah it's not in me doll to give up on you…,” Bucky smiled hinting to begin eating.

It was a quiet night, even for the party that was going on in the common room. They all seemed quiet as Y/N & Bucky curled up on the couch in an attempt to watch another movie that only ended in the two sharing stories of battles & some to funny not to share.

Y/N pausing as a calloused thumb caressed along soft jaw. Bucky relaxed back on the arm of the couch, Y/N laying between his legs on her back, green hand cherishing over clothed thigh to look back, surprised when calloused thumb ghosted over bottom lip. Ruby orbs locking onto calming ocean blue eyes that sparkled with light from the tv screen.

The soldier releasing Y/N to turn in his arms to lay on his stomach, arms wrapping around thick middle to pull close to speak on beautiful emerald lips. Tongue darting out to lick parched lips as hot breath fanned over them, sending a chill down her spine she hadn’t felt in decades.

“Do you not worry I will hurt the twins,” Y/N began, so close lips tickled as she spoke.

“Doll, you don’t have it in you to hurt them. I may be a cold blooded assassin & you may be war skrull, but I am also a father. I know when someone is & isn’t right for us. And you, Y/N, are no threat, especially if you were wiling to come help me clean up chocolate syrup when it looked like they had smeared shit all over the place….,” Bucky chuckled, dying for a taste of her.

“Stay…,” Bucky breathed, the word he spoke to the skrull every chance he got.

Finally getting the courage to press his lips to hers, softer than what he could have ever imagined. Flesh hand going to the nape of soft neck to deepen the kiss, calloused hands snaking around to the back of his own to thread into auburn locks to keep him in place. Soft lips parting without prompting, tongues tangling as metal hand found the hem of her shirt to run up thick curves, making her gasp out at the coldness of it.

Thick frame sitting up further to get to her knees between his legs as he sat up, palming ample breast through offending bra as green hands traveled to the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head, breaking the kiss long enough to fling it to the floor. Hot hands doing the same to repeat the process, falling back to each other to prolong the kiss as hands went to the buckle on his jeans, his own going to the yoga pants, starting to push them down when the cell phone.

“The twins,” he gasped out, breaking the kiss to hurriedly pull the phone out of unzipped pants, falling back to the arm of the couch, pulling Y/N with him to hold her to his chest before taking the video call, Y/N grabbing the throw on the couch to wrap it around bare shoulders.

“GREEN,” the twins squealed making Y/N realize she was in the picture, sure to smile & say hi, to the horror of the grandparents who kept mouths shut thankfully.

“Yeah guys, we’re watching a movie,” Bucky told the overly excited children who looked to be bouncing around all over the place jabbering that they wanted to come home & watch a movie with Y/N.

“Ok, clam down, I'm sure Y/N will come watch a movie with us when you get back, but it's bed time guys,” Bucky told the kids who asked for an Uncle Steve story.

“Oh no. I know that you have already had one, you’re not milking this tonight,” he scolded the two sweetly, Y/N looking up at the soldier, a smile on her face even when the kids complained.

“Ok,” both spoke in their small voices, “love you daddy, love you Y/N..,” the two chimed in, taking Y/N off guard to look at the screen with a nervous smile but retuning the sentiment before they hung up.

“See doll, even they aren’t going to give up on you,” Bucky smiled, laying the phone in the floor, hand going to soft cheek to pull her up to him once more.

“Can we slow down? Not that I didn’t enjoy the rush….,” Y/N began, the throw falling from bare shoulders, but not bothering to pull it back up, even releasing it to fall to the floor to lay flush to toned stomach.

“It's up to you doll, I’ll do whatever you ask except for give up on you, because that aint happen sweetheart,” he smiled, stealing a kiss, allowing Y/N get comfortable, surprised at how she fell into it, hands reaching to the nape of his neck once more to lace into auburn locks.

Y/N finally laying her head under his chin as metal & flesh wrapped around bare middle to settle down. Sitting quietly & listening to each other breath, not focusing on the movie while eyes began to flutter closed. The only thing the soldiers ever wanted was someone to keep them safe, so they could sleep through the night & get the rest they craved.

This time the knock on the door was easy, as if the person was trying to be courteous of the two occupants in Y/N’ room that had somehow made it to bed, tangled in limbs that didn’t want to unravel, still in last night’s clothes that were wrinkled beyond belief.

“I'm sorry to wake you,” F.R.I.D.A.Y began gently, “but Captain Rogers needs to speak with the two of you before he leaves.”

“Ok, hang on,” a gritty voice rasped out as Bucky attempted to untangle from Y/N who was wrapped tight around black vibranium that was warm thanks to the skrull curled around it that whimpered out as he removed it.

“Come on doll, you know he likes to get up before the ass crack of dawn,” Bucky joked, running flesh hand along a spine that relaxed the instant the warm appendage soothed over flesh that wasn’t covered in a sports bra.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N began groggily, finally letting go to roll to her side of the bed while Bucky got up, obvious he didn’t care if he wore a shirt, starting for the door while Y/N grabbed the closest thing at hand before heading to the door.

“Hey,” Steve began the moment the door opened, not surprised Bucky was the one to open the door, devoid of shirt with Y/N stepping next to the soldier in his wrinkled shirt, not meaning to look her up & down, damn maybe there was something to that thick body.

“You are leaving early,” Bucky began, snapping Steve out of it, hinting to the stealth uniform, going as far as to throw flesh arm around clothed shoulders, smirking when he realized she wore Bucky’ discarded shirt.

“Uh, yeah. I know I told you to originally help with training the new hires, but now I need you too,” Steve admitted, looking to Y/N who was wiping the sleep out of crimson eyes before it registered what he asked.

“Wilson not able to make it….,” Y/N began clearing dry throat to finally focus on the captain with a yawn, absentmindedly leaning into Bucky’ warm side, recalling how ever since she floored Steve the Falcon didn’t seem as inviting as he once was.

“No, he will be there to. I got word late last night that there were several more joining the group & didn’t want them to be overwhelmed,” Steve explained, cocking blonde head at how domesticated she looked.

“You think that is something that you would be comfortable with,” Steve actually asked Y/N who puzzled as if it was a trap.

“Um, yeah, I’ve trained recruits before on Xandar, this should be no problem,” Y/N finally spoke, looking up to Bucky then to Steve who gave a genuine smile.

“Good, thanks for bailing our asses out,” the blonde actually thanked Y/N before exchanging goodbyes & hurrying down the corridor.

“Something’s wrong with Steve,” Bucky began looking down the hall then back down to Y/N who puzzled at the soldier that was wrapping his arm around her tightly.

“What do you mean…,” she asked cautiously.

“I think you hit him too hard & jarred something loose,” the brunet laughed, both stepping into the room, Bucky looking over the curves that looked perfect under HIS shirt, stopping her the moment the door shut to pull her flush, crashing their lips together in a needy kiss.

“Get ready & meet me in the hall in 30,” he asked, watching pink tongue soothe over now puffy lips, a smile taking over as she shook her head yes.

Tags open! And re-blogs are ALWAYS welcomed!

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99 @prettybubblesintheair @gramaeryebard @reallyheckinggay @jovanna-shewolf @andiyholly @katstablook @nickyl316h @beets1bears1battlestargalactica @aslandia726 @moonfaery @furstinnajoelle @itsbqueenthings @lookwhatyoumademequeue

@whovianwookie86-captainxev@jazzieomega

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky marvel #bucky x oc #skrull #skrull reader #oc reader

32 notes · View notes