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fountainpenguin · 10 months

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"It's great to feel invincible; it's great to feel alive! My appetite's insatiable; there's nowhere it can hide..." (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 13 - “Blaze (Jellie, Tango)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

Also, thanks Tango for signing this drawing at TwitchCon!

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Dog's Life Session 2 begins today! Jellie gives her perspective on SnifferMyFeet hanging out around the ConVex penthouse. We don't talk about what's in Scar and Cub's closet. Don't worry about it.

Where Jellie leaves off, Tango picks up! It's time to prep for Session 2. We never did find out what's up with Impulse, but his code looks glitch-free, so let's play!

... Etho sure is dragging his feet though, isn't he?

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Jellie

Species: Cat

(Flawless at it)

🤍 🤍 🤍

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Jellie is, in her own way, the goddess of crumbs and ants and squinted eyes. It's surprising just how many crumbs get left behind in this world, where things do not despawn the way they do in her other home. She has visited there many a time, though Scar has grown more firm in asking her to stay on this side of the portal. She does not always understand his reasons, but he is gentle with his body language until he is tense, and they sing their multilingual songs as best they can.

Jellie is she who sits on high atop the kitchen cabinets. It is there she's perched the first time Scar brings his new friend home. He has a peculiar air about him (though defining the reason why would be difficult, for she is but a cat). Perhaps it is the tight way he moves his body: wary and defensive. Perhaps it is the way he keeps one hand in his pocket, tugging at the collar of his pretty white sweater with the other.

Perhaps it's the way he so vividly looks like Grian in the tousled, blond-brown undersides of his hair… and in the gentle curves of his cheeks. He is neither sharp nor aggressive. There's something familiar in those dark, dark eyes. His spiny wings are blue like Scar's, though positioned much lower at his back.

When this figure turns his head, Jellie keeps very still in her place high above. Yet he notices her. Somehow. Perhaps in the faint curl of her tail. When he tilts back, white sparkles ripple from his neck. They twist away in the air. There is no point in batting at them- even those that stray within reach. They're ethereal. They will disappear soon enough, absorbed into the code of the game. At least, that's how Scar puts it in his whispered nighttime stories. Thus, Jellie twitches her whiskers in reply.

Ah, says she (in her own words and way). You are one of they who feast on the minds of the living, but never the flesh. You are among those who cross the line between what is material and what is of another realm.

He's like Grian in his face… and like Scar in his wings. Perhaps this is their kitten. Jellie does not know much about the lives of play-creatures like Scar, but she understands kittens. She's had a few herself.

"Jellie!" cries the kitten. His hands fly up, including the one he'd kept hidden throughout his first moments of roaming the penthouse. Jellie does not descend, for she is observing in this moment of time.

Her aloof silence, however, does not deter the curious arrival. He makes to hop on the counter. It's just a bit too high. Failing that, he tries again from the crafting table, which sits a smidgen lower. This time he makes it. His leg thuds against wood. Jellie blinks, but does not hiss or fold back her ears. Let him come. He is curious, for he is but a kitten and new to this world. He smells cold, like a dead creature. There is lifeless quiet in his eyes, but he is determined to make the most of what he has. Scar, who is fixing the pillows on the couch, turns around as the kitten stretches his arms towards the high cabinets.

"Ooh- Sniff, watch out-"

Sniff, Jellie decides, is a lovely name for a kitten. She repeats it in her own form, with a tail ripple and a mew. Sniff bodies right up against the cabinets. His wings flap, but he is young and grounded. He reaches high… straining, even. His eyes spark with the glow of life. His breathing comes in huffs. "Aw, c'mon, Jellie… I want to pet you. Nice job with the walls, Scar… This whole place is a playground for felinekind, isn't it? Look at all this stuff."

"Oh, let her stay there and observe," Scar cautions as Jellie slips into a crouch. "She's a little shy, so you can't expect-"

Jellie oozes over the edge of the counter, plopping downwards like treats from her dispenser. Sniff catches her in one arm. He lets out a pleased little babbling noise, then nuzzles his cheek against her neck.

"… huh."

"Oh, you're soft," Sniff remarks, but Jellie twists away before he can pet for long. She lands on the countertop in her dainty way, then trots around the edge until she stands in front of Scar. He scritches behind her neck, then migrates his palm between her ears. Sniff descends, walking over, and that's enough interaction for now. Jellie sidles off down the hall. "Your place smells like gingerbread," Sniff says after that.

"Oh, that… Just one of the wonderful things about living where we do. C'mon; pick a movie!"

There are no birds down underground, but there are plenty of mice. Jellie paws at the door to Cub's room until he lets her in. His slippers are fuzzy… but not made of mouse. And anyway, skinned prey would be an insulting gift. One quick check confirms no rodents hidden in the plants and machinery, so she mews again until he lets her back out. Scar will not let her leave the penthouse, so Jellie waits for him to use his litterbowl before making her request. The door's only been closed for a moment when she takes up position on the lowest platform of her cat tree, mewing at the balcony door. She bops it with her hand.

Sniff, who is watching from the couch, tips his head and blinks like he might understand. "You want to go out?"

Yes!

He walks over. "This is a pretty door," he says, examining the craftsmanship…

… for a little too long.

Outside. Now. She is the goddess of crumbs and ants and squinted eyes, and those things exist in abundance on the other side of this hole-freckled door.

"All right… Let me see."

Yes…

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Links at top]

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rebrandedbard · 4 years

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The Chain

Slightly horny drabble. Geralt has a thing for Jaskier’s neck and a chain he wears around it. Reverse bath shenanigans. Non-explicit.

WC: 1900

Geralt had noticed it on many occasions: on hot days when Jaskier opened his chemise a little wider than usual, when Jaskier stripped for a dip in a river or tub, when he stripped for the night and bundled himself into bed. It was unusual considering the ornaments Jaskier usually hung himself with, shiny rings with etchings, engravings, and gemstones. But these were for parties and grand affairs. Day to day, he did not primp and preen like a peacock with a fat purse. He wore only his signet ring. It was a tool as much as an accessory, though it was still something with detail.

The thin chain around his neck served no purpose. It was not silver, nor iron, which at least would offer some barest form of protection. It had no enchantments. It could not even be said to bring luck. It was dull, unfashionable, and did not have so much as a single charm hung from it. It was just … there. A short, barren chain wrought of plain steel.

Perhaps it was the fact that it was so plain, so thin, flimsy, and pointless that drove Geralt to distraction. At the very least, Jaskier might put something on it. If there were a locket or a pendant, something for the eye to focus on, that would be enough. But leaving the chain bare only seemed to draw attention to Jaskier’s neck itself. It was … a handsomely long neck. When Jaskier turned his head, the muscle stood out in an attractive line. Objectively.

Geralt wished he’d put something on the damn chain. Before he volunteered his own teeth to the task. It was a fantasy that had come to him one night. Jaskier had a rather distracting habit of nibbling the ends of his shirt laces. The chain was too short for him to reach. But Geralt could. And he nearly had before he’d come to his senses, leaning too close into Jaskier’s space. He clumsily reached past Jaskier to collect his empty bowl from the ground, floundering for an excuse. That had been a week ago when they’d been out in the woods. He’d had plenty of space then to breathe and forget about it.

But now? He was suffocating. Trapped in their little room above the tavern, Jaskier stripped of all his things, sighing as he leaned with his torso above the line of water in the bath, his head dangling back over the rim, neck elongated, exposed, and Geralt saw that damn chain glisten in the firelight. Jaskier had even taken off his ring, but the chain remained.

Jaskier hummed pleasantly, a damp washcloth over his eyes. “You’re awful quiet, even for you,” he said. He lifted the washcloth from his eyes and smiled at Geralt, catching him staring. “Cat got your tongue, witcher?”

Geralt looked away immediately. “I was just thinking,” he grumbled.

“Is that something you’ve learnt to do? Oh, I’m so very proud,” Jaskier teased. He dropped the cloth back over his eyes and put his hands behind his head, sinking further into the water. “Do indulge me. Pray tell, what has those ancient, rusty gears clinking and turning tonight?”

Geralt glared at him, the effect rendered less than effective by the washcloth. “Nothing,” he said. He finished unbuckling the last of his armour and sat to clean it. There was nothing to wipe away but dust. Even so, he was looking for an excuse to stay. To linger. Or perhaps to distract himself, having little else to do but turn in for the evening.

“Hm, that’s the Geralt I know. But come, some thought is rolling around in that head of yours; I heard it clink against the walls just now when you did your curious little head tilt. Won’t you share it with me?”

“You’ve been soaking for nearly twenty minutes,” Geralt replied. “You haven’t even begun to wash up and the water will be getting cold.”

Jaskier waved a hand at him. “So it can be reheated. A little snap-snap of Igni and I’ve got another half hour of relaxing ahead. Besides, cold water is good for the skin.”

“You’ll keep me up all night tending your water if you had your way.”

“Ah, if I only could have it my way,” Jaskier sighed. “I’d have you tend to me hand and foot, hanging on my every word. What fun! Providing hot water would only be the start; I’ve got a long list of things I’d do.” He chuckled fiddling with the chain, twisting a length of it between his fingers where his hands supported his neck.

Geralt tracked the motion with rapt attention. He cleared his throat began to pack his armour up after all. As he walked behind Jaskier, he plucked the cloth from his eyes. “You’d better hurry up and wash. I’m not reheating the water for you and I know you hate when the water gets cold, never mind what good it does your skin.”

He dropped the cloth back down on Jaskier’s face with a wet plop and Jaskier slipped back with an indignant yip, splashing beneath the water’s surface. It was a satisfying sound.

Jaskier wiped his face clear and wrung the cloth out again. He huffed and began to lather the cloth with soap. “Always so gruff,” he complained. “Here I help you selflessly scrub monster guts and foul muck from your hair day in and day out, but you can’t even be bothered to heat up a little tub water to warm my icy bones. By rights, you ought to at least return the favor once in a blue moon. I’m not asking you to scrub me head to toe—I only think a little reciprocation would be nice.” So saying, he scrubbed his face and ears, rinsed, and patted around for his oil.

Geralt sighed. Depositing his armour, he turned back to the tub. He scooped up the oil and pushed away Jaskier’s hand. “Fine,” he said. “Sit up.”

Jaskier beamed at him. He wiped his eyes and turned around. “Will you really? Surely I’ve fallen asleep, dozed in the hot water, and tumbled into some fantastic dream. Who is this courteous stranger before me? You couldn’t possibly be my witcher. My witcher would never!”

The hairs stood on the back of Geralt’s neck, tingling at those words. My witcher. Jaskier said them so often, so casually, and yet they never failed to get a rise out of him.

Geralt turned Jaskier’s head roughly. “Face forward or you’ll get soap in your eyes,” he said.

“O-o-o, so forceful. Always straight to manhandling with you.”

“Give you something to handle,” Geralt grumbled.

“What was that?”

Geralt poured a bit of the oil on his hands. “I said it smells like sandal. Sandalwood.”

Jaskier settled once more against the rim of the tub and tilted his head back. “Got some new supplies. Do you like it?” he asked.

Geralt did, but then he liked most of the scents Jaskier wore. They complimented him. Not that he would ever dignify that with a response. Instead, he simply began to massage the oil into Jaskier’s hair, working his way from the crown of his head down, fingers lightly scratching his scalp the way Jaskier often did.

“Oh, that’s heavenly,” Jaskier sighed. He leaned into the touch, his eyes closed as he relaxed beneath Geralt’s ministrations.

Up close, Geralt had a perfect view of the chain. He watched it shift as Jaskier spoke. The chain reflected the flickering light in an almost hypnotic fashion. Slowly, his hands worked down to the nape of Jaskier’s neck, still massaging as he stared, his mind drifting. Jaskier made an odd little rumble in the back of his throat. Geralt massaged the place harder, hoping to hear that sound again.

“Soap next,” Jaskier said. He passed the cloth to Geralt, not bothering to open his eyes.

They’d never said anything about soaping or scrubbing, but Geralt was in no position to refuse. Not with Jaskier’s neck angled so enticingly, and here, the perfect excuse to reach out and touch. He lathered soap in the cloth. In a moment, it was touching the side of Jaskier’s neck. And yet …

“Your, uh. Your chain,” he said.

Jaskier cracked one eye to look back at him. “Oh. You may remove it. Just be sure to put it back when you’re done.”

Geralt swallowed and set the washcloth on Jaskier’s shoulder a moment. He reached for the chain, only to find no fastening in the back. He had to turn it, had to watch the drag of it against Jaskier’s skin as he searched. The chain was warm and wet and it was difficult to get a solid grip on the clasp when he at last had found it. But it soon came free.

He hesitated. Now that he had it, where could he put it? There was no stool, and it felt improper to put it on the floor. He looked at Jaskier, wondering if he might offer to hold onto it, then he was again distracted by the line of his neck.

He’d been wrong. After wearing the chain so long, it was now, perhaps, more indecent to see his neck without it. Geralt watched a drop of water roll down the side of Jaskier’s neck and felt the impulse to chase it with his tongue. To prevent himself from following through, he succumbed to another impulse which might go unobserved and placed the chain between his teeth.

Jaskier hummed once more as Geralt’s hands returned to their task. It was meditative, Geralt discovered. He moved the cloth in small circles, covering every inch of Jaskier’s neck twice. He cupped water in one hand, let it trickle down and wash the suds away. With gentle fingers, he flicked away a stray bubble, his touch lingering only a moment more to appreciate the soft skin beneath. And then he was washing Jaskier’s shoulders, his hand dipping only a little to feel the breadth of his chest.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said.

But Geralt was distracted. He was busy running the cloth once more between Jaskier’s shoulders, running the tip of his tongue across the links of the chain.

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeated. He reached back, raised a hand up to run along Geralt’s cheek. His fingers touched the end of the chain, slipping against the corner of Geralt’s mouth. He tugged it, pulling it link by link from between Geralt’s teeth. And then Geralt felt something warm and wet lightly touch the opposite corner. A kiss. Just barely.

Geralt’s breath caught in his lungs and his eyes fluttered shut. He felt Jaskier’s teasing touch disappear, fingers curling beneath his chin and sinking once more beneath the water. He opened his eyes and saw Jaskier smiling back at him, the chain dangling in his hand.

“The bath is getting cold,” he said, a salacious tenor to his voice. “Feel like warming me up?”

And before Geralt could answer, Jaskier had a finger curled around the silver chain of his medallion, pulling him in.

Jaskier smirked up at him. He took the washcloth from his hand and replaced it with the chain. “I’ll wear yours,” he whispered, “if you’ll wear mine.”

And now Geralt indulged a new fantasy. Yes, Jaskier’s chain needed something after all, he decided. It needed only one simple ornament to make it complete.

It needed a wolf.

#witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my fic #the chain fic #drabbles #I was bored and saw a pretty picture of someone wearing a chain necklace #got me thinking

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angelguk · 3 years

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what happens in this section is entirely a result of what guys voted please do not! come for my head in my inbox im begging. very sad in general like Angst with a capital A with a sprinkle of despair and pain. listen to mess it up by gracie abrams. roughly 2k.

(titled — out of line)

You thought Lucas would help, the warmth of his body a distraction from your aching heart, but he didn’t. Not the way you needed him to. He was sweet enough, made you giggle endlessly before finding his place between your thighs. But even with his tongue on your clit, your (now usually sober) mind still lingered on Jeongguk, his memory a stain on your soul. It didn’t help when you spotted him with a girl hanging off his arm, her bright eyes stuck on his face, soaking him in like the earth does the sun. You didn’t know her name – Chayoung took the liberty of whispering it to you after your biology lab. She was Hyeri, a sophomore with a delicate laugh and graceful disposition. That vile vindictive black thing that now inhabited your chest swelled, brain already comparing the differences between you and her. Your clumsiness suddenly felt like a curse, even though Jeongguk had countlessly said he loved you for it (or did he say that just to ease your worries?). Insecurities spring forth like weeds and you don’t have the capacity to keep the careful garden of your heart tended.

They take over slowly, your eyes stinging whenever you see them huddled together in the quad. Bitter tears blinked back, your blinkered senses overlooking how Jeongguk’s quiet gaze followed your figure whenever you turned your back to him, even with Yoona yapping at his ears.

Perhaps the despondency that clung to your bones is what led you here, face planted in the musky scent of Namjoon’s sheets, your heart throbbing funny.

“Can you even breathe?” He questions. The timbre of his voice washes over you, familiar and somewhat reassuring. You twist upright to face him, eyes squeezing tight when the bright fluorescent lights in his room assaults your vision.

“I was hoping my heart would give up if I held it in long enough.”

Namjoon stills, brown eyes flitting over you. He coughs like he’s working through various sets of words before he decides what’s most suitable. “And then what? I get framed for murder when they find your body here?”

You laugh, and it hurts. “Maybe. My body is very portable though, did you consider first burying me in the backyard?”

“Rookie mistake,” Namjoon returns. He rises to fetch the mugs of tea sitting idle on a stool he’d dragged from the corner of his room. “The sniffer dogs would fly straight to that location. Also, I’d have to dig a hole big enough to fit your head in.”

“And why would the dogs find me immediately?” You say, shuffling upright, palms ready to receive the tepid heat that will seep through the ceramic the moment the cup settles in your hand.

“Your perfume,” Namjoon says. He hands you the mug, heat fulfilling its chosen purpose, the scent of gentle jasmine wafting to your nose.

You pout then, glancing at him. “My perfume?”

“It’s distinct. Violet, right? Maybe vanilla too?” Namjoon says it easily, sinking beside you, utterly unaware of the ticking in your brain. Your gaze falters then, shifting to his broad shoulder and thick biceps. The ivy shirt he’s got on barely contains all that muscle in, fabric stretched thin.

You take a sip of your tea, and despite the period Namjoon gave it to cool it still scalds your tongue.

“Why do you know what fragrance I wear?” It comes out accusatory, but Namjoon handles it well, laughing low.

“You’ve had the same one since high-school, I think. And I remember you telling me.”

The fingers around your cup squeeze tight, your brain unlocking a moment you’d forgotten in the wake of brighter ones. A quiet afternoon at the back of your high-school, Namjoon towering over you, his nose trailing the hollow of your neck, a stray comment about how you smelled good washing over you. It was followed by a flustered younger version of you deflecting, heart pounding wild when Namjoon drew back to look at you as you rattled off the different sillages that made up your favourite perfume. He’d laughed, low like did just now, before calling you cute and pulling you in for a kiss.

“Oh,” you finally murmur. “I remember now.”

You were actually going to change it after your break-up with him, but then Jeongguk had mentioned how much he’d liked it and the bottle had stayed.

Namjoon hums, his gaze slow as it shifts around the room. It’s a space that screams of him, light wood tones and plants breaking from the pristine white walls. Space carved for nature, a grounding sensation living within these four walls – something that seems to live inside of Namjoon too.

“How are you?” He suddenly asks, turning slowly to measure your features.

You blink hard, only realising then that you’d been staring at his face for a second too long. “F-fine. I’m okay. Just busy, y’know. Finals coming up, planning events; the usual.”

“I know,” Namjoon says with a ginger smile. “But that’s not what I’m asking. How are you? With Jeongguk and everything.”

“Oh.” You can’t answer that, his unexpected brazenness shocking your system. The smile on his lips fades, a solemnness in the brown of his eyes. His next words are earnest, and they settle in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t just come here to chat for no reason. We can talk about Jeongguk, that’s okay.”

“N-no, we don’t need it. We’re over. It’s been two months already. We’re seeing other people and I don’t really want to discuss one of my exes with another one. And maybe I did just come to see you,” you tack on an empty laugh at the end, hoping Namjoon doesn’t read right through you.

But he does. Like a part of you hoped he would.

“I’m your friend, you know. We had something but nothing like what you and Jeongguk have. Two months isn’t going to make a lifetime disappear. It’s okay if you still feel bad.”

That’s what cracks you, a well-aimed hammer knocking your walls right down. You bite your lip hard, fingertips pinching the ceramic in your grasp, and swallow the tears looming in your throat with a choked laugh.

“I’m fine, Namjoon. I feel a little like shit but I’m working on it. And Lucas is a great guy–”

“But he’s not Jeongguk.” The sentence feels heavy as if it carries the weight of many hearts on it. But it’s also a line you were thinking about earlier, even with Lucas pressed against you.

“That’s not what I would say–”

“But it’s what you were thinking,” Namjoon cuts. Maybe there’s a peephole in your head that only Namjoon has access to. “And that’s fine. It sucks for Lucas, though. But you shouldn’t feel bad for thinking that way. Especially when you know how special Jeongguk is to you.”

Special. The word is bright, glimmering like Jeongguk’s eyes do.

“I-I just–it just–I don’t know.” The tears you’d attempted to seal inside burst, slipping down your cheeks quiet. Namjoon pry's the mug from your hand, replaces its warmth with his own, and for a split second things feel bearable.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, a calloused palm on your damp cheek, his steadiness clearing away the gloomy skies in your head. But he doesn’t tell you to stop crying, doesn’t whisper that it’ll be okay. He just tugs you closer, rests your splinting head on his wide chest, and soaks up the tears on your face with his shirt. Like the earth does for the pouring heavens.

You eventually hiccup the despair down, finding the words to explain to Namjoon what you were feeling in between the moments where breathing didn’t feel like a race. He takes the news of Jeongguk kissing somebody days after your break-up with wide eyes, his eyebrows drawing together. And then comes the second girl, you don’t even know her name but it still cleaves something out of you. And finally, Hyeri. Her name is a lament.

“And it sucks because he looks happy with her and I still want him to be happy because I still love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

Namjoon cocks his head then, his wide palm sliding down your back. “You think Jeongguk looks happy?”

“Yes?” But it’s a question, your upward gaze on his face imploring.

Namjoon shakes his head instead. You don’t hear it, the following words a deep muffled murmur, “Both of you are idiots.” But you see the twinkle in his eyes and it makes your back straighten.

You want to pester but Namjoon pulls you closer, and you lose yourself in the feeling of him, before a question can register on your tongue. His arms are huge, like sturdy branches defying the blistering gales of your heart. He lets you cry for a little longer, listening intently to the continuing spew of words from your lips, until the storm quiets into a breeze.

“Okay?” Namjoon asks.

You stick your head further into his chest, breathe him in deep. “Okay.”

When he shifts away your skin freezes, but then you realise he’s reaching for a blanket. He swathes it around you fondly, pulling you in for a swift hug before falling out of your reach once more.

“Now, I think we both need a moment to process that.” He’s talking about but you’re not listening, your eyes on his face, gaze gently trailing the curve of his lips. “I also think we need food before we start unpacking the mess you’re in–”

You swallow the sentence with your lips, salt singeing the corners of your mouth. But your movements are not reciprocated, Namjoon’s mouth is still under yours. The soft hand on your neck guiding you away is what pulls you back, right out of that strange dark desperate ocean that held you.

“Y/N–”

“Sorry, shit–shit, I shouldn’t have done that.” But there’s no use now, you can’t take it back. Namjoon is looking at you with those eyes, the ones that feel like pity. His sympathy suddenly makes you feel sick, and you wish the ceiling would give away and shatter your head. “I should go.”

He tries to stop you, firm but gentle with his words and hands. But you’re a wild storm again and nothing can stop you from snatching your butterfly tote bag from the floor of his room and fleeing. The black thing that had been subdued for a moment reemergence with vengeance the second you hit the sidewalks, vision reeling. How could you do that? To Namjoon? To the stable friendship you'd created? But he felt too warm, too caring, too much of everything that you longing for and that Lucas could never give you.

Just a reminder of the swimmer's name as you skidding to a halt, the thump in your chest vicious. Maybe Jeongguk was right. Constantly painting yourself the victim while actively hurting the ones around you. Maybe you should have never let him kiss you again on that rooftop. Maybe you should have never tried to love him.

—

It’s silent in your head when you get back to your apartment. Sieun is home, finally back from her trip to her boyfriend’s parents place, so you’re not surprised to hear the soft hum of laughter filtering through the house. You don’t expect to find Chayoung there though.

They’re huddling in the kitchen, drifting out cheery greetings when you trudge it, only to fall silent when you mumble back a hollow response. A gentle song floating from the radio fills the empty space, three bodies navigating something tense.

“Were you with Lucas?” Sieun eventually pokes. She’s not a big fan of him. She’s not a big fan of the current break-up between you and Jeongguk either. She’s going to hate you for what you’re about to tell her.

“No,” you mumble. There are twenty notifications flashing across your phone screen, all from Namjoon. You feel sick, and you might cry again.

“Well? What’s with the long face?” Chayoung adds.

You take a deep breath, gripping the marble counter tight before twisting around. Better to rip it off all at once right? And there’s no way you could hold this inside of you, not when there is barely any room for your broken heart.

“I kissed Namjoon.”

“WHAT?” Sieun’s jaw slams into the ground and Chayoung freezes beside her, like her joints have suddenly been welded together. They stare at you for long you might have grown a second head during it. And then the questions come, a torrent erupting. You blank for a second, and then the guilt crawls up your spine. It may only be thirteen past five in the afternoon but you definitely need a drink.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #i said this was gonna tomorrow but my brain said tonight so here we are #nobody ask me how we're gonna come back from this #this is ur fault!!#bts angst #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic

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yelenasdog · 3 years

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moving out, moving on (mitch rapp x fem reader)

genre: fluff

summary: mitch and reader are taking another step towards mitch moving on, and it’s bittersweet.

words: 2.2k

warnings: drinking wine, kinda suggestive at times, talks abt katrina, mitch being emotional, my writing being melodramatic LOL

a/n: so. this was written during an all nighter that went to 7 am where i was listening to nicki minaj and eminem (???) for a good duration of it so. i’m very sorry if this is wonky at times! i hope u enjoy either way! mwah

🥍🥍🥍

The early morning rays streamed through thin fabric, draped above the assassin's window. Dust particles floated about, becoming visible within the section of light cast from the sun. The birds perched outside the small apartment tweeted happily from their branch, their songs beautiful.

Though, they were quite pesterous to the pair that lay together, wrapped in gray sheets. They reveled in the heat provided by the soft blanket, but even more so by the warmth from their joint bodies.

A mop of dark brown hair stirred, bringing one hand up to softly rub his eyes with his knuckle, the other hand snaking around the waist of the woman peacefully sleeping beside him. He watched with fond eyes as she lightly groaned, rolling to face away from the invasion of bright, turning towards her love.

Mitch smiled down at her sleepy behavior, reaching out and brushing stray hairs from her forehead. He reluctantly retracted it only moments later, forcing himself out of bed to go and prepare the two of them for their big day as best he knew how: Coffee.

His sock clad feet dragged across the hardwood as he went, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and groggy-ness (a word Y/n had donned as her own, and Mitch had caught on to) still very prevalent in his entire system.

The Rhode Island air was frigid this time of year, Mitch allowing a grin to break out on his face upon remembrance of two nights previous, just how cold Y/n had been in the arena of the Providence Bruins hockey team. Nose pink, donned in a beanie proudly showing the team's logo, well, he had found himself a new lockscreen.

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of said groggy-ness, his body on autopilot as it made the beverages. He picked out her favorite mug from the cupboard (AKA a souvenir from Dubai he had picked up long ago) that she had adopted as her own, drinking out of it every time she would spend the night, almost like clockwork. He waited for his coffee beans to brew, scratching his stubble along his jaw. He flinched, though, when he felt two arms wrap around his middle. He quickly relaxed into the embrace upon realization of who the supposed assailant was, her head finding its way to rest on his bare shoulder.

“You scared me, there.” Mitch muttered, his larger hand inching towards her’s on his waist. He closed his eyes in content and she hummed in acknowledgment. Mitch allowed her to turn his figure to face her, still residing in her arms, seeing a bright smile plastered across her face.

“Only for a minute though, right?”

She laughed to which he chuckled in response, nodding in false surrender. “You’ve got me there, Y/n/n.” He mused, his eyes lighting up at the sound of the coffee machine beeping. He looked back to her, shrugging.

“I made you coffee, was gonna bring it to you in bed but, y’know.” He gestured to where she had now climbed up to sit on top of his counter, his sweatshirt around her that read “Brown University” across the front in large lettering pooling around her thighs.

“It’s alright, I need to get a move on anyway.” She smiled, hopping down to retrieve the mug, taking the warm ceramic from Mitch’s hands and sighing at the wondrous feeling that had spread through her whole body. She lifted it to her lips and drank, not surprised that her boyfriend had made it just the way she liked, to perfection.

“Thank you, baby.” She commented, reaching up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. Her lip curled as she pulled away, Mitch already knowing what she was going to say, a laugh bubbling up in his throat.

“Mitch! Go brush your teeth, for the love of God!” She whined, watching as he scampered off towards the bathroom, snickering all the way. She rolled her eyes, downing the rest of her beverage before following where Mitch had gone.

Once in the bathroom after rinsing her and Mitch’s mugs, she tied her hair up, undressing and turning on the water (practically scalding hot, of course). Mitch had no objections to the temperature, though, seeing as it was his last time showering with her in that apartment, and in that apartment, period.

The whole thing felt very symbolic to Y/n, at least, seeing it as washing themselves clean for the next phase of their lives together, a sort of preparation. (Maybe not so much for Mitch, who really was just pleased for any excuse to see his girlfriend naked.)

They used generous amounts of soap, as not only were most of them nearly empty (in fact, a few were and if it weren’t for Y/n, they probably all would be), but also that they had decided to simply just buy new toiletries as a whole for their new place.

They giggled at the sight of each other, all lathered in bubbles and suds. Mitch reached a finger forward, wiping it from above her eyebrows and preventing it from falling into her eyes. Y/n brought her arms around his neck, her lips connecting with his. “Much better.” She regarded with a smirk, before leaning back in.

Nearly 40 minutes later, they both emerged from the shower, fresh faced and ready for the day ahead. He didn’t have a lot that needed to be packed up, given that his place came fully furnished, so it took all but 2 hours and 5 boxes to pack up Mitch Rapp’s life. It honestly might have taken even longer than originally would have been needed, as Y/n would stop every time she found something interesting, allowing Mitch to tell her all about whatever stories had been connected to the item.

It had started with the ridiculous bird lamp that sat on his bedside table, once belonging to Mr. Nazir, and ended with his lacrosse stick. (And, a promise that one day, he’d show her how to play. He swore he’d never seen her smile that big.)

They also threw away and donated a lot, some of Kat’s old stuff bringing a pained smile to his face as he would place it in a box simply labeled “Kat” in messy, thick letters. He wasn’t sure if the box would end up in his new closet, covered in dust and unopened, or back with her family. But either way, he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to her completely, which Y/n was able to understand.

“Mitch? Did you pack away your coats already?” Y/n called out, opening up the closet near the front door. Her breath slightly hitched in her throat upon seeing all of the photos of Mansur, still pasted to the painted wood, the edges curling up.

“Nah, not yet, I was gonna handle that while you worked on the cupboards” He responded, busying himself with a text from Irene on his phone wishing him good luck. He looked up and saw what she had been asking about, his phone quickly sliding into his pocket as he made his way over to where she stood, visibly distressed.

“How long have these been here?” She questioned, feeling Mitch’s arms wrap around her shoulders. She brought her hands up to grasp onto his wrists, leaning backwards into him and biting into her lip.

“Since the beach, when I decided to go after Mansur. When everything happened with the CIA, it was kind of a whirlwind, I didn’t really have enough time to even think about taking it down when I was only even here for hours at a time.” He lightly chuckled, watching as she stepped forward and began to take the pictures down, crumbling them up in her hands.

She ran her fingertips over the indents left in the door, feeling the splinters against them. She turned back to Mitch, quipping how “Mr. Nazir won’t be too pleased about that.”

He smiled, joining her in taking all of the images down, ripping them or balling them up in his fists. All of them ended up in one of the old Target bags they had been using for trash, filling up an entire bag (minus a few Dunkin cups sitting at the bottom).

Mitch trailed a few tender kisses down the left side of her next, and though it sounds cheesy, a feeling of hopefulness flooded himself out of most of the bitterness that had been stuck inside for so long.

She turned her head to catch his lips with her own, and smiled into the kiss, her hand finding the back of his head. She lightly tugged on the chocolate colored strands and he groaned in content, to which her grin only widened. She pulled back, ruffling the top of his head before beginning to pack away the remnants of what was left in the closet. He rolled his eyes, following suit.

They had piled all of the boxes into the back of Mitch’s old decommissioned CIA vehicle (which was obvious that is was such, given that the side was littered with bullet holes and metallic scratches), returned the key to Mr. Nazir (who was glad to see Mitch go), and with that, they were off.

The new place wasn’t too far away, the pair taking a page out of Stan’s book and opting for a wonderful sense of privacy. It was nestled in a rural corner of Massachusetts, where Mitch would be able to come home to a sense of serenity. Y/n had already moved in her possessions, Mitch’s items being the last step. They’d also furnished the cozy cabin, trips to IKEA and Urban Outfitters (along with several other over-priced boutiques) making the place feel like a perfect fit for the couple.

Mitch’s strange and varied knick knacks made the house feel like a home, his lacrosse stick finding a new home by the front door, right under a hanging potted plant that Y/n and Mitch had decided to affectionately name “Charles” after a drunken night watching the X-Men movies. The house was littered in plants such as Charles, in fact, with Mitch’s first response to seeing all of them being “Wow, looks like a greenhouse in here.”

(Still, he’d grown to love the plant babies. Trust me.)

Two tired smiles made their ways to their faces as they both sat on their new sofa, admiring a job well done. Though several boxes still lay on the hardwood, unopened, they felt accomplished enough to pull out a bottle of wine that they had been saving for the occasion. It was an early housewarming gift from Stan, to which they were unprepared to take advantage of, it seemed.

“Baby, did we unpack the wine glasses earlier?” Mitch questioned, his mind slightly foggy of the day's events and early start.

“No, I think they’re still packed up.” She replied, to which Mitch’s eyes lit up, an idea forming and an imaginary lightbulb popping up over his head. He got up from his seat, a wide smile spreading across his face. Her expression mirrored his own, with an added quirked brow at his antics.

“I’ve got a solution, wait here.” Mitch responded, padding over to where he had remembered the new home of the mugs to be. Upon realization of what he was doing, Y/n smiled, rolling her eyes and bringing a hand up to run through her roots.

He shuffled back over moments later, his girlfriend recognizing one of the mugs in his hands as her favorite. He sat down next to her, with the bare skin of her thighs touching his own, jean clad. He bumped his knee to hers with a giggle, pouring out the Pinot Grigio into the mugs.

She gratefully accepted it as it was handed to her, smiling as she took a sip. Mitch did the same, the two of them leaning back into the soft sofa. Y/n brought her legs up, cuddling into his side and absorbing his warmth. He brought his free hand to her side, a strong hold giving them both a strong sense of comfort as she lay her head on his shoulder.

The box labeled “Kat” remained unpacked along with the others on the floor, dust already beginning to gather. Mitch had come across it a few times that day, each time more thoughtful than the last as he struggled to decide what it was exactly he was feeling towards the objects; or perhaps towards the memory of Katrina.

He had come to realize that it was acceptance he felt, deep in his stomach, settling down. It had been brought upon him in totality over time, today’s events being the final step. A soft smile spread across Mitch’s face, a single tear falling from his eye. Y/n looked up, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Mitch, are you alright?”

He leaned down, connecting their lips in a watery yet nectarous kiss, his hand beginning to rub small circles on her shoulder.

“Yeah, Y/n/n.”

The fire they had built earlier was roaring, now, casting a warm glow across the pair’s features. The damp trail down his cheek was highlighted, nearly glistening on his skin like an amber.

“I’m doin’ just fine.”

🥍🥍🥍

ok btw ik that wine in mugs would be a horrible idea but this is fiction so SHUSH

anyway i hope yall enjoyed! i love writing for mitch and i have lots of future fics for him, so if u liked this, please reblog and follow if ya wanna. mwah, go drink water and have some protein <333

xx hj

#mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp imagine #american assassin fic #american assassin fanfiction #american assassin imagine #dylan obrien imagine #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x y/n #dylan o'brian imagine #mitch rapp x y/n #stiles x reader #we will rock queue #yelenasdog

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itsany62 · 3 years

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SteveTony - Alternate Universe

Here are some Alternate Universe fics that I love. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

Food for the Heart, by LagLemon, 14 k >, Cooking, No Powers.

After being introduced to a gourmet food on a budget blog by Pepper (a gift for her elderly, cheapskate mother) Tony starts cooking again. The recipes are good, but the blog owner is even better. Still, Tony isn't so sure Captain America, the guy who runs the blog, can compete with Hot Bagboy, the gorgeous blond who works at the grocery store.

"Free to Good Home" by Captain_Panda, 7 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

"Oliver and Company" AU.

There's a great big world outside the box.

But it's a dog-eat-dog world, and Tony's just one cat. Then a stray dog comes along, looking for a friend.

A Day In Principal Stark's Office, by nannersmelo, 10 k > words, Steve Single Parent, Director Tony.

Tony Stark has his hands full with not only Stark Industries, but also his beloved mother's life project: The Maria Stark Academy, and as he enters his office in order to deal with a ferocious mother whose son was apparently assaulted by one of his brightest students, he was sure this day would culminate in nothing but a heinous headache. Little did he know - he was in for one hell of a surprise.

I Am the Night by gottalovev, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Tony Stark, Wizard Steve Rogers.

That's it. Tony is doomed. He rolls on his back, crosses his wings over his belly and closes his eyes. He'll await death here, misunderstood by the world to the bitter end.

C is for Calculus and Compromise, by heydoeydoey, 11 k>, Gifted AU, Post-Divorce, Angts with a Happy Ending.

Steve's just trying to give his prodigy daughter a normal childhood. Enter a meddling school administrator, Tony Stark, and too many lawyers.

tell you my love for you by jelliebean, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Based on Love Simon.

A guy at Shield High comes out on tumblr, anonymously. Tony thought he was the only gay guy on campus--not out, because of Howard--and sends him an email.

“Hey, Flying. Same here. I’ve got a secret too, and it’s like I’m hiding who I am, every day. From everyone. All the closest people to me. But I just can’t tell them. I’m gay, too. It feels like I’m putting on this mask, this shell of who I think they want me to be. Even though I don’t think my friends would judge me. I don’t know why. I just. I’ve got a secret. –Shell”

The guy seems great--amazing, even, and then Hammer has to step in and ruin it all.

Mergers & Acquisitions by Robin_tCJ, 33 k > words, Angst, sex as currency.

Steve Rogers is the CEO of the Rogers Corporation, which he built from the ground up. When he learns that Hydra International is making a bid for a hostile takeover of Stark Industries, he decides he has to do what he can to stop Hydra from overtaking the market and becoming an unstoppable, unethical conglomerate. Tony Stark asks for something Steve isn’t sure he should give, but he does it anyway – and it completely changes everything. But when Hydra keeps coming, Steve and Tony realize there’s more to this than they’d realized.

Meeting the Monsters by itsallAvengers, 23 k > words, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters.

Tony's at public school with kids his age for the first time in seventeen years, and he is determined that this year is gonna be his year. He's going to make friends. He's going to be popular. People will like him.

Unsurprisngly, none of that actually happens.

He does sort-of-maybe fall in love with a vampire in his class that everyone is terrified of, though. So... there's that.

(I Want You To See) The Darkest Side Of Me by ann2who, 45 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Post-World War II.

In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.

Gift With Purchase Remix by sabrecmc, 43 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, hooker Steve, Sugar Daddy.

Gift With Purchase Remix wherein Steve actually is a hooker. But for a Really Sympathetic Reason.

The Little Glass Screwdriver by ann2who, 19 k > words, Cinderella AU.

When Prince Steven is forced to find himself a bride, true love gets in the way. As the night of the grand ball unfolds, the prince meets a mysterious knight who might just change his entire life in a way he could have never imagined.

**Cinderella AU**

Covered in Lines by royal_chandler, 3 k > words, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - College/University, Age Difference.

He can’t lose sight of pale, deft hands that gesture on transitive verbs, an ink-stained thumb edging underneath Tony’s ribcage with an affection that can only be called dangerous.

half-wild and glimmering by deathsweetqueen , 15 k > words, Alternate Universe - Western, Prostitution.

“Give me a drink, Tasha,” Tony sighs as he lands in front of the bar. “I’ve had one hell of a day.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Have you really?” she asks, loftily, sliding a tumbler of whiskey along the well-polished wood.

Tony lets his head hang, the sweat beading on the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to put myself through today,” he sighs, wearily.

“I would not know. You will not let me work the rooms,” Natasha retorts, her voice a little strained, busying her hands in a dirty glass.

“I don’t let you work the rooms ‘cause you’re liable to kill anyone who touches ya the wrong way and we can’t lose that much of our business,” Tony reminds her, wryly amused, sipping at his whiskey. He shakes his head at the burn. “We peddle flesh, darling, not death.”

peers, fears and holiday cheers by jacobby, 24 k > words, Parent Tony Stark.

“He’s only two years older than you,” Tony finally says when the silence becomes too much to bear.

“Dad, Teddy is turning twenty-seven next year.”

“I am not dating your husband—”

“I’m not implying you are. I just want you to be...aware that he’s practically the same age as my husband.”

AKA

Tony Stark's new boyfriend is only two years older than his adult sons. Telling them is one thing, introducing them is another. What Tony doesn't expect is that the past always has a way of catching up to him, of biting him in the ass when he least expects it. Well, at least they're all together for the Holidays. What more can he ask for?

A Higher Form of War by sabrecmc, 292 k > words, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Historical Romance.

Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

you can call me babe for the weekend by complicationstoo, 10 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, actor Tony Stark.

Tony left his small town for Los Angeles after high school, leaving behind everything to pursue his dream. Ten years later, he comes back for the first time and finds that some things are impossible to let go of.

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be by iam93percentstardust, 72 k > words, Alternate Universe - Theatre.

Famed director Phil Coulson brings Shakespeare’s beloved play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to Broadway. This production though comes with a twist: a brief but passionate love affair between the faerie king, Oberon, and his attendant, Puck. In the roles of the two star-crossed lovers, Coulson casts America’s darling Steve Rogers, fresh off his third Academy Award, and Broadway royalty, Tony Stark. Steve quickly finds himself falling for the quick-witted and sarcastic actor but Tony is dating the stage manager. Unwilling to come between the seemingly happy couple, Steve steps back but all isn’t right behind the scenes and Tony may need him when everything falls apart.

and so we rebuild by raeldaza, 26 k > words, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Soulmates, Mutual Pining.

Sometimes, a voice whispers: you will never atone for your mistakes.

Tony believes that, believes it so strongly some days he drowns in it, but he still tries. Tries through Starfleet, tries through inventions, tries through missions. Then, one day, he meets his new Captain, and things change.

and teach this heart (how to beat with light), by starklystar, 40 k >, AU Hospital, Single parent Steve.

Eight years ago, at a funeral with a baby's cries ringing in his ears, Tony Stark decided to turn his life around. He's a genius, billionaire, philanthropist. What's so hard to adding 'doctor' to that list? And after that, it can't be that hard to add 'husband' and 'father' too, right? But the past has a way of haunting even the very best of us, and in any universe, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have never had an easy love.

Featuring: drama, chaos, Peter's scheming, meddling friends, and doctors learning again that the heart can never be as simple as four chambers and four valves.

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by sabrecmc, 120 k > words, Alternate Universe - Sweet Home Alabama Fusion.

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

The Night Shift by weethreequarter , 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Hospital.

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Cake It Till You Make It by ChocolateCapCookie, 10 k > words, Kid Fic, Alternate Universe - Bakery.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark have a lot in common. They're single parents, they own rival bakeries at the center of town... and they both hate each other's guts.

When a mix-up at Peter and Morgan's school has both fathers scrambling to prove they're the better baker, they do the mature, adult thing and compete in a bake-off. Between the mixing and the creaming, the baking and the icing, Steve and Tony find that hate is actually not that far from love.

Looking for Heaven by foxxcub, 31 k > words, Alternate Universe - Regency, Marriage of Convenience.

When young Lord Anthony Stark learns Steven Rogers has enlisted in the army, he thinks he's seen the last of his tiny, headstrong, haughty stable boy. But four years later, Lord Stark gets an unexpected visit from Steve, whose mother has fallen gravely ill and into financial ruin. Even more unexpected, Steve agrees to a shocking proposal: they will marry, giving Steve the necessary funds to save his mother, and Tony the much-needed reprieve from harassing would-be suitors. It is a business arrangement, nothing more. But as time goes on and circumstances arise, Tony begins to learn that keeping his heart away from his husband is easier said than done.

just a guy, standing in front of another guy by theappleppielifestyle, 12 k > words.

“It’s not real,” Tony says, still smiling, jaw twitching with effort. “The fame. It’s - I’m just a guy."

(Or, Notting Hill AU, with a twist.)

Mother of Exiles (A Titanic AU) by BladeoftheNebula, 21 k > words, Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion.

“You’ll never guess what just happened!” Steve said, taking a deep breath to try and calm his breathing. “I met someone. A guy from first class.”

Dublin 1912: Steve Rogers is barely making ends meet, living in the tenement slums of Dublin. But a stroke of good luck gives him and his best friend the chance to change their fortune. Two tickets to America on board the RMS Titanic.

The Devil You Know by shetlandowl, 17 k > words, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Author/Novelist.

Best selling author Tony Stark revives the bodice ripper genre for a modern audience. From frisky gay cowboys to ravenous lesbian pirate queens, he consistently delivers riveting thrillers full of romance, drama, and the filthy, unapologetically kinky sex that has become his trademark specialty.

Tony has everything a man could dream of - horny, adoring fans, and boatloads of money. Or that's what he thought, until Detective Steve Rogers walks into his life and turns it all upside down.

Bears and Mountains and Lumberjacks Oh My! by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday), 24 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Lumberjack Steve Rogers.

It was supposed to be easy--go meet the reclusive artist and buy some art. And then came the broken down car. And the snowstorm. And the lumberjack with a face like a greek god. So yea, Tony is stuck in a cabin in the woods with a hot lumberjack till the storm clears. Could be worse.

Series: A Furious Vexation by Annie D (scaramouche), 18 k > words, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse.

A Steve/Tony post-apocalypse AU that exists pretty much just for the smut.

That Feline Beat by Tito11, 5 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

Presenting Steve and Tony in the Aristocats!AU

Tony and his three kittens have been kidnapped from their fancy Upper East Side apartment while their owners are away and deposited on the mean streets of Harlem. Unsure of where they are or how to get back home, they'll have to rely on street cat Steve to guide them. Will they get home safely? Will Tony's fear of abandonment cause him to drive away the best tomcat he's ever known? Only time will tell.

do you fondue? by calciseptine, 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting.

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

a glimpse of heaven's love by parkrstark, 13 k> words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Terminal Illnesses.

The child begins to empty his pockets. He starts to count coins on the counter. Tony huffs a little impatiently as he realizes most of them are pennies.

The cashier actually humors the kid and counts along with him. They reach 3 dollars and 54 cents before he shakes his head sadly. "Sorry, kid. There's not enough here."

The kid sounds close to crying. "I need these paints for my Papa. It's Christmas Eve and these...he doesn't have any. The doctors said he doesn't have long. I want him to have these. In case he meets Jesus tonight, I want him to paint one more time. Please."

Tony takes a step forward, arms still full of toys he's buying just because. He can cover this child's gift for his dying father. Money. Money is what he's good for.

"I'll buy them."

Or, the Christmas Shoes AU no one but me asked for.

If you survive first impressions, you're good to go by itsallAvengers, 3 k > words, Parent Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - No Powers.

The first time Peter Parker-Stark sees Steve Rogers, he may or may not be standing in direct path of the man's motorcycle.

His daddy is really not going to be happy about that one.

A Rat-ional Conclusion by BladeoftheNebula, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Parent Tony Stark.

He had a strong flurry of patients throughout the morning and by the time it rolled around to noon, he was just about worn out.

He walked out into the reception, stretching until he felt a satisfying pop. “Are we done?”

Bucky checked the screen. “Just about. One more before lunch - a rat, singular.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully straight forward then. “Great, let me know when they-”

He was interrupted by the bell over the door and looked up to see a little girl cradling a small animal carrier, being shepherded through the door by easily one of the hottest men he’d ever seen in real life.

Oh wow.

Tidal Pull by sabrecmc, 97 k > words, Octopus Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked.

After the American Civil War, Union soldier Steve Rogers takes a chance on an opportunity to sail with the Stark Trading Company down in the Caribbean. During a terrible storm, his ship is lost. To his surprise, he survives, and ends up stranded on an island that isn't quite as deserted as he first thinks.

Or, a reverse Little Mermaid tale where Steve has to fall for the fish-man.

Twelve Days by elysianprince, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Ghosts.

In which Tony finds himself in a town that looks like it crawled out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, trying to sell an inn he didn't know he owned, all while dealing with Steve Rogers, the resident ghost who has returned to haunt the inn each December during the twelve days of Christmas for the past seventy years. Tony has only one logical solution that benefits them both: break the curse that binds him - but falling for a man almost a century old wasn't among his plans.

She kissed me by S_Horne, 1 k > words, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting.

“Your mom kissed me.”

Steve blinked awake and lifted his head from his pillow to look over at the silhouette in the doorway. “What?”

“Your mom,” Tony reiterated. “She kissed me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said simply, “she does that.”

#stevetony #stony #fic rec #tony stark #steve rogers #my recs

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

A Night of Discovery

pairing: hybrid!Taehyung x fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, yandere au, smut

synopsis: For a learning trip, a seemingly innocent fox has taught you to never trust a predator in one day.

warnings: noncon, mention of murder, sadism

word count: 3.3k

a/n: ok so i may have made a moodboard to make up for how bad this is, SUE ME 😭 the request (spoiler warning)

The road is bumpy as the bus navigates through the looming forest, endless pine trees passing by your eyes in a blur. Chatters swirl in the fresh cold air, windows slightly cracked open as you try to sleep for the nth time with your head leaning against the smudged glass. You jolt awake each time, and it’s been two hours since your first attempt because of the reckless driver in the front. You’re clutching your backpack in your lap as you fantasize about the summer, your upcoming graduation.

Being in your final year of high school, the stress has been eating at you, but your biology teacher had the sheer niceness to give her students a break by taking you on a field trip to a marine zoo. It’s related to your syllabus, studying about marine ecology and all, and you were given the freedom to choose an aquatic animal of your choice to make a project on. You aren’t the least bit excited, because the zoo is so huge that your parents had to pay for the night you have to spend in a motel. Walking for hours and searching for one interesting fish is not at all thrilling.

Your body lurches forward when the driver abruptly hits the brakes. You take out your earphones as everyone stands up. The bus doors open with a hiss from the rush of air as students step outside one by one. You are sluggish when you hop on the cement, and the zoo is huge in front of you. The glass panels complement the surrounding greens, and you can catch the crashes of the waves from the shore behind. You can’t see it, and the environment is rather lonely except for the building close by: the motel next to the zoo.

Ms. Kang is directing your classmates to the motel first, and you’re about to follow before you stumble on your shoelaces. You crouch down to tie them, and when your teacher looks back, you say, “I’ll be there in a second!” When they’re inside, you decide to stretch your limbs after sitting in a stiff chair for so long. You walk to the woods by the parking lot, curious about the sights under the grey clouds. The weather is rather gloomy, and it doesn’t exactly help you feel better until you step on the grass ahead of the road. You sling your backpack over your shoulders and start touching the tree trunks out of boredom. It isn't entertaining, but it's relaxing.

A distant growl snaps you out of your sightseeing and you search around with your eyes for the source. The sound is very peculiar, and it has you feeling slightly nervous but undoubtedly curious.

You aim to take a step forward until your name is hollered, and you yell, “I’m here!” You hear hasty footsteps until Jimin appears next to you.

“Ms. Kang is asking for you. It’s your turn to check in,” he informs and you’re about to reply until you hear another growl. It’s louder compared to the previous one, and the both of you look into the forest in fright. It’s drawn out, but it gradually grows quiet. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” you furrow your brows a little anxiously and eventually enter the building with Jimin.

After everyone settled into their rooms, ate in the café provided by the zoo, the real trip began. You have to admit, the aquarium is gorgeous. The blue light reflecting from the water is easy on the eyes, and you’re fawning over all the swimming fish in admiration. There is a guide with you, and you listen to any information that is related to your favorite animals so far. You note down the names as a requirement from the teacher, and research some on your phone throughout your exploration. It’s actually interesting in the beginning, but you do get somewhat bored when a few hours pass. It’s 7PM when the tour ends for the day, and the rest of your time is leisure.

You’re allowed back in your rooms for the evening, and you rest on the comfortable bed to gain back some of your energy. You’re more interested in the forest just outside, and you take out a box of fruits from your bag before leaving the motel. It’s dark when you munch on a sliced green apple while eyeing the forest. The lights from the motel sign help with your vision and you’re just standing on the empty lot while twirling around absentmindedly. It’s not like you’re close enough with anyone to hang out with them at this time, but it allows you to appreciate the breeze more. You’re wearing a cardigan to keep you warm, and you’re enjoying your time until you hear a whimper.

You stop in your tracks before inching closer to the sound. It’s pained, or at least you think it is, and you take out your phone to shine a flashlight at the eerie forest. More whimpers resound in your ears, and you timidly trudge into the darkness. You yelp when you feel something soft lightly graze your calves, and jump away before seeing it: it’s the tail of a red fox. You gasp in slight fear because you don’t know if you trespassed or are in danger. The fox stares at you, and you stare back until it quietly whines again. “Awww,” you unintentionally coo. You’re scared when it wraps its fluffy tail around you, but you’re not so intimidated when it starts snuggling into your legs. You crouch to level with it and hesitantly bring your fingers to its head. Its fur is so soft that you wonder if it has been tamed.

“You’re so cute,” you gush in a whisper when it leans into your hand. You retract your hand and take out a blueberry from your container and feed it to the fox. Your heart warms just by watching it chew, and you give it some more. This encounter might be the best part about this trip, because the animal is just so adorable. You want to cry from how overwhelmingly precious and pure it seems with its adoring gaze. You’re grinning brightly as you eat with it, sharing your only snack for this whole expedition.

You entertain yourself with it for a little while before deciding to go back. You ignore its protests guiltily and bid farewell, “I’ll see you again, cutie.” It’s already been an hour and your legs ache from bending for so long. You know you shouldn’t be out too late, and as you retrace your steps back to the motel, you hear it run off deep into the woods.

The night is spent tossing and turning in bed because you wanted to sleep early in order to function at 8AM the next morning, but you can’t force it. Surfing through the media or keeping your eyes closed for 15 minutes straight didn’t help in the slightest, and somehow your energy has been increasing instead. The window adjacent to the mattress glares at you with its beauty of the crowd of unsaturated trees. You didn’t bother pulling the curtains because it’s a pleasant view, and the stars that you rarely see in the city shine brightly in the countryside. You think back to your interaction with the fox, and a smile creeps up on your tired face. You want to see it again.

Putting your shirt back on, you’re adjusting your cardigan when you crack open the door of your room. No one’s roaming in the halls, as expected since it’s midnight, but you try to be mindful of your temporary neighbours as you sneakily exit the building. You turn to your left instantly to scurry towards the mysterious forest. You don’t know if the fox is still around, but you whistle lowly anyway. Twigs snap beyond your vision, and you warily wait for something to happen.

An extremely loud growl rips a tiny scream out of you and you immediately flinch backwards. You’re frozen in your spot, almost paralyzed as the growls continue. It’s confusing because the noise is more like an aggressive hiss, and it’s unlike anything you’ve heard before. It suddenly switches to a whimper, a plea. You don’t know if you have to break a fight between two animals, but it doesn’t matter when your curiosity takes over and makes you confidently (albeit feigned) stride into the jungle.

As if your actions are being encouraged, the whimpers grow more desperate and you take slow steps while watching out for any predators waiting to attack. You’re trembling in fear, but then your fox also might need help…

The motion is way too quick for you to process and you let out a blood curdling scream when you’re tackled to the ground. You don’t stop screaming even when your mouth is covered, muffling your cry for help.

“Calm down,” a honeyed rich voice tells you, soothing with its calm tone, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You quiet down and peek at the assailant through heavy lids. A confused hum catches in your throat upon seeing batlike ears that poke through dark hair. They easily blend in together, and you scrutinize his features and notice a swishing bushy tail behind the man on top of you. Terror dawns in your eyes, though the man looks fairly tranquilent by the ordeal.

“You fed me earlier,” he recounts and slowly removes his hand from your face. You’re gawking up at him as he clarifies, “Fox hybrid.” You squeak when his tongue darts out to lick your cheek and chuckles at your expression.

“What a-are you doing?” you snivel shakily.

He gently tucks a stray strand behind your ear before answering nonchalantly, “Scenting my precious doll. You’re so pretty, and kind… and naive.”

Your breaths quicken when he leans into you, but he conveniently misses your lips to bury his face into your neck. The fur on his pointy ear tickles your jawline, and you’re startled when he starts to sniff you. You feel him lick your sensitive skin and clench your fists with a mewl. You’re utterly terrified by the discovery of a new species, who also seems to be very strong and stealthy. He’s handsome, gifted with a heart shaped face and a set of charming black eyes with full lips, but it’s not important when he’s crushing you with his weight to keep you in place. His mouth and nose are all over you as they explore your taste and smell, and his satisfaction is evident with his sighs of bliss.

“I couldn’t get enough of you earlier,” he reveals with a subtle moan, “I've never had the experience of smelling something so delicious. It's fortunate that you're so easy to fool.” The only thing that you do know about foxes is how cunning they are, but you didn’t think one would land you in this situation. You’re heaving to breathe with a struggle, but he pays no mind to it. “I can’t wait to claim you.”

Despite rendering you immobile, he sounds more desperate and needy than you do; as if he’s the weaker one, like the roles are switched. You might be able to use that to your advantage… “I would love that,” you choke out, though you have no idea what he means by his words, “but I can’t move. I-I want to kiss you.” You want to smack your forehead for coming up with such a terrible lie; you don't even know if his intention is to kiss you.

“Yeah?” he drawls seductively and withdraws his knees from your thighs, most likely leaving a bruise from how hard he dug them in. He holds himself up by his palms that previously clung onto your shoulders and limits your peripheral vision. Your eyes trail to his defined collarbone for a short moment, the moonlight casting a shadow over his fine features. “Kiss me then.”

You inhale sharply before raising your leg to kick him, but his reflexes are faster than yours as he prevents it with one knee. He tuts, “I’m offended; I thought you found me cute.” A knowing smile graces his pink lips, and it doesn’t falter even when you open your mouth to scream again. His calloused hand immediately silences you before you can make any noise, and his other hand reaches down to your lower region. “I even wore a pretty outfit for you today. Such an ungrateful doll...”

He tugs on your pajama shorts, dragging them down to your knees along with your underwear. You shake your hand and beg unintelligibly, “Please don’t.” You clench your thighs together, but he forces them open and leans back to take your bottoms off completely. The weather feels like it’s dropped to negative degrees as you shiver and he gently hushes you when you begin to sob.

“Oh doll, there’s no reason to cry yet,” he sighs in fake empathy, “I just really, really want to fuck you.” He heaves his shirt over his head, and that’s when you get a glimpse of his so-called “pretty outfit”. The black garment is familiar because it's the merchandise of an indie band with its flamboyant logo; you know you’ve seen someone else wear it today. He has to use both hands to take it off completely, and once it’s off, your wails echo in the deserted land as he ties it around your mouth. It’s Jimin’s outfit. “Don’t take your eyes off of me. I love having your attention.” His voice is a mere breath, filled with anticipation to touch you.

He slides down to your knees as he continues to undress himself. He’s throbbing under the uncomfortable fabric of the tight jeans, and instead of attacking him with your now free hands, you cover your face stained with tears as you cry. You feel like you’re having a heart attack as your gut churns in defeat; there’s no point in fighting a man who might’ve killed your classmate, a fox no less.

The moment his pants are down his thighs, his stiff length grazes his stomach before he palms it and rubs himself up and down your folds. Your heat is damp with your natural discharge, but it’s so warm and he feels so aroused as a moan slips past his luscious lips. “You must think I’m so rude,” he whispers and hovers over your face, “I haven’t even introduced myself and yet I’m already marking you.”

He whines cutely at a particular tingle before saying, “My name’s Taehyung. I’d love to hear you moan it, but you’re just so naughty.” His emphasis is airy, and you’re terrified by the contrast of his soft tone and rough actions. He’s calculated, but also very reckless; almost amateur as he begins to position himself by your entrance.

Your words are gibberish as you repeat: “No, no, please no!” He clicks his tongue in response and locks eyes with you just before he shoves his cock inside, no adjustment whatsoever as his pitch grows higher in wonderment. He’s down to the hilt, and the fabric in your mouth isn’t enough to drown out your scream of pain. The stretch is excruciating. His eyes screw back as he loses himself in you, and it’s as if he’s lost all control when he starts slamming into you at an unforgiving pace.

As opposed to your protests, he starts chanting, “Yes, yes, fuck yes, my perfect little doll.” He’s never had intercourse with a human before, but it’s not up for comparison when he’s feeling so heavenly because of your tightness. You’re pulsating around him, walls clenching in discomfort because you’re in so much agony. You push his shoulders, but it’s futile as he doesn’t budge in the slightest; he almost appears possessed, but his loud moans disprove the theory.

He can’t form coherent words, and neither can you. If you weren’t in such a shock, you’d be encouraging him to be louder in case anyone is nearby to help you. You thrash under him, but your movements are limited because of his firm build. You beg and beg, but he is animalistic with his chase for his high. The sound of slapping skin have no pauses in between because of his pace, and dare he admit that the predator in him enjoys your attempts at getting away. It makes it so much more fun for him, but he’s unable to savour it from how your pussy sucks him in so deliciously. "You feel so fucking good, I'm going crazy."

Once he’s gained some of his sensibility back, he latches onto your neck to lick and bite you. You pull at his hair to yank him away, his canine teeth sinking into your flesh for a second before he moves onto another spot. His torture is endless, and his growls scare you enough to remove your hand and shake like a leaf under him. He wants to taste all of you, and you can't serve as an obstacle.

“Pet my ears,” he grunts, “touch me, touch me, dolly.”

The initial pain is starting to subside, and your thoughts are coming together although they’re hazed. You’re still aching, but you know he just dropped you a hint; the sooner he’s satisfied, the earlier this nightmare ends. Your fingertips stroke the back of his twitching ear. His fur is so velvety, and petting him is the least bad part about this experience. You must be doing something right, because he’s getting so noisy that there’s no way someone would miss you now. You suck your teeth with a hiss as he sets an impossibly rapid rate, rearranging your guts with every snap of his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cries breathlessly. His release washes over him as spurts of cum paint your throbbing walls in white, and you’re relieved that this is the end.

His intakes of air are hot on your skin as his breath fans the crook of your neck. Your stomach drops the moment he murmurs his next words, “I want to do it again.”

“Hey!” a gruff voice interrupts his huffs, and your whole world lights up when you see a man in a uniform with a flashlight over your heaving nude bodies. Taehyung is surprised that he didn’t catch the man’s footsteps when he walked over. “This is indecent exposure, you know–” the security officer goes quiet in shock when he notices the perk of Taehyung’s ears, and then the stiff, unmoving tail behind. “What the fuck?”

Taehyung rolls off of you before disappearing from your sight in a single second. He is stealthy and quick, and his footsteps are light when he leaves; presumably shifting as he goes. The guard attempts to chase after him before stopping in front of you. His eyes trail down your figure before he looks away in disgust. “Goddammit, kid, put your clothes back on.”

“Thank you so much,” you choke on your tears of joy as you ignore the ache in your thighs, the swelling in your heart and your suffocating turmoil. You stand up on wobbly knees and slowly dress yourself. The officer has his back facing you while you change, and you’re grateful he doesn’t witness how fragile you are.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks after a moment of prolonged silence.

“H-He was raping me,” you speak in a hushed tone, “and I think h-he killed my classmate.”

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll go notify the police. Are you staying in the motel?”

When you return back to your room with the company of your savior, you’re hurting everywhere and sleep comes to you easily from all the crying you’ve done. You wake up from a knock on your door, and it’s early in the morning as your teacher says, “Pack up dear, we’re leaving in half an hour.”

They found the clothes, you note when you limp outside with your bag dragging you down. There are dried tear stains on your cheeks when you step on the open bus, and you see a bunch of cops surrounding the forest through the window. Jimin isn’t inside, and you shake your head with pursed lips as sobs bubble up in your throat. This feels nothing short of a nightmare.

The class is informed of Jimin’s disappearance after taking off, and you lean your head against the window as the driver recklessly drives. Your vision is blurred with tears as you watch the forest, but it doesn’t distort it enough for you to miss the flash of a blood red tail skip between the trees, following the path of your transport.

After all, foxes are known for being fast. There’s no way this one wouldn’t be able to track you down sooner or later, your scent bringing you back to him.

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fic #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung imagines #bts taehyung #bts yandere #yandere taehyung

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cupidsintern · 3 years

Text

the death of hyacinthus - pt. i

this is my old renaissance au with artist!billy and model!steve so enjoy lol

The light spills out onto the floor before the window, making the worn wood of the floor look bright again, like new. The light doesn't reach Steve though. Billy set up the scene like that on purpose, closer to the center of his studio. No direct light. He wants this to be lit like it's the beginning of twilight. In his head, Hyacinth dies at sunset.

The room is silent, has been for a while, other than birds outside the window, a breeze that made the window tap against itself lightly, and fabric shifting if Steve stirs from where he is at all, draped across this haphazard construction of pillows, blankets, and a bench.

That's the word Billy used; “drape”. When Steve got to the studio Billy was kicking pillows around on his little model platform, trying to get everything set up right, hardly even greeting Steve at all before launching into his explanation of how he wanted Steve to look.

“-and he’s dying, but he’s not dead yet,” Billy walked half a circle around the platform, hands out. “So Apollo would- damn-” A pillow fell over, he pushed it back up. “Would be here. So if you can just sort of drape yourself across right here-”

Steve was stripping off the last of his garments when Billy turned back around.

“Here?” Steve finished kicking his stockings off, crossed to step up onto the platform.

Billy swallowed, looking Steve in the eyes because at least it meant he wouldn't look down, slack jawed. “Yeah, that's- that’s perfect.” Steve was already settling in to sitting down, letting his head fall back against the seat of the bench, throat exposed.

The way he was sitting shifted his weight in his hips more; Billy tried to look critically. Not appreciatively. He shouldn’t be appreciating the son of the nobleman that had decided to be his patron. Not that Steve was even supposed to be modeling for him beyond the two portraits he’d already had done.

“Tip your knee down more,” Billy stepps back, takes in the composition.

Steve drops his knee.

“Turn your head towards me.”

Steve obliges. The line of his nose looks perfect at three quarters.

Billy stepps up to the platform again, pulls some of the fabric forward, lets it fall over Steve's legs more, over his groin- good. Less distracting. More poetic or something- and the line of his thighs beneath the fabric has just the heaviness Billy is looking for. He steps back again.

“What’s the myth again?” Steve’s jaw gains definition when he speaks with his head at this angle.

“The Death of Hyacinthus.”

“I know that part.” Steve rolls his hand a little. “The part before that. How does he die?”

“He- hang on.” Billy steps close again to push things around, make the lines right. “The wind- Zephyr- gets jealous of his beauty. Apollo throws a discus, and Zephyr pushes it off course, so it knocks Hyacinth in the head. Apollo holds him while he dies.” Billy says it all matter-of-factly. He's trying not to get distracted. He picks up Steve's arm to tilt back towards him a little. His skin is warm like the sunlight staining the floor.

“That's sad.” Steve says. His arm feels relaxed in Billy’s grip. “Weren't they close? Apollo and Hyacinth.”

Billy feels a familiar warmth at his neck of this topic. This thing that always comes up when he and Steve are alone. “They were lovers.”

Steve doesn't say anything back to that.

Billy gets the composition mostly how he wants it- and he’ll probably try Steve in a couple different poses, this is only for sketching. He takes ages deciding where to set up to actually draw it- Steve makes fun of him. Billy says he’s not the one naked on a pile of old curtains. That makes Steve laugh. His stomach flexes a little when he laughs.

Billy's glad Steve can be part of his process now.

He gets some general gestures down on paper. He really nails the angle of Steve’s throat- which he's proud of. He needs the arch of the thing to be perfect. And he gets the general idea of Steve's features down quick- he’s drawn Steve's face maybe a thousand times by now. The way his arm falls is tricky- he’ll come back to that in a bit.

“Billy.”

Billy looks up at Steve’s voice. He’s sat up a little, something short of coy in his eyes. “I’m cold.” “You’re cold.” Billy says back to him. Because he never does what Steve implies. Only what Steve says.

“Yeah, like you said- I’m bare ass naked on a pile of curtains.”

“Your calling.”

Steve laughs again. “Do you think we could close the door?”

“We?”

“You. Can you close the door.”

“Who’s the revered artist here?”

“Who’s the patron?”

Billy rolls his eyes, but he drops his chalk into the lip of his easel anyway, walks to pull the door to his studio shut, separating them from the rest of the house. Steve left it open in the first place.

“You’re not my patron.” Billy says when he gets back, picks up to start drawing again.

“I’m close.” Steve only sounds a little superior.

He’s right. He is close to being Billy's patron. He recommended Billy to his family, he talked up Billy’s version of the pieta, he introduced Billy to the Influentials of Florence, got him this nice new studio, set up in one of the family houses. He was only a little superior about it.

Mostly he was nice.

Nice to Billy. Excited about the things he drew, always asking him what he was working on.

Asked to sit for him once, twice, how many more times, he was part of the process now.

This might be what having a muse was, if Billy believed in things like having muses.

Steve scratches the back of his calf with a foot, then sets his legs back down.

“I’m surprised you don’t get bored doing this.” Billy cracks two of the knuckles on his drawing hand, shakes out his wrist. He’s only prying a little.

“I like watching you work,” comes Steve's easy reply.

“Still.” Billy smudges at a stray line with his thumb. “You’re always fidgety at dinners and shit. Not here.”

“Dinners are boring.” Steve sighs.

He had expressed that sentiment before. That he found Billy much more interesting than anything his family ever did. That he’d trade his infinite wealth for the virve Billy so possessed. Only he didn't say it like that. He said “I’d trade all of this shit for whatever makes your art so beautiful.”

And Billy said “You wouldn't want to. Trust me.”

Billy, having seared the image of Steve into his brain by now, was adding more definition in places, really letting his focus slide out of his head.

And it’s quiet for a bit. Billy doesn't notice when the silence breaks- the sound of shifting fabric, bare feet on wood floor-

“Shit, that’s really good.” Steve's voice startles Billy a little, but he doesn’t let it show. Just turns a little abruptly to find Steve leaning over his shoulder.

“Looks just like me.” Steve continued, hovering his fingertips over Billy's rendition of his nose.

“You don’t have to sound so impressed every time.” Billy rolled his eyes, pushing Steve’s hand away.

“Oh, excuse me for showing some enthusiasm.” Steve hummed another laugh, still looking at the paper. He traced a finger absentmindedly down his own flesh-and-blood nose, marveling at the likeness.

Billy couldn't focus enough to continue with Steve so close. Not like he’d never seen Steve in next to nothing before. But this was really and truly nothing. And even naked as the day he was born Steve exuded wealth in just the way he stood. Like clothes were nothing but decoration on something already… beautiful.

“Can you go back to your spot, please?” Billy got out, looking away like he was annoyed.

Steve just smiled at him before padding back to his platform, throwing the fabric back over his legs.

But now the composition was wrong-

“So,” Steve’s voice carried across the sun-soaked chambers. “Why Hyacinth?”

“What do you mean.” Billy was trying desperately to collect his thoughts.

“I mean, he’s dating a god, right? Why him? What's so special about him.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“And?”

“Well, I mean, he’s a Spartan prince, he’s legendary. Apollo doesn't even really pick him. Hyacinth has, like, a bunch of people to choose from. He picks Apollo.”

Billy can’t draw like this, especially since Steve fucked up the composition- probably on purpose.

Billy gets up with an unintentional little huff and gets close to Steve again, has to adjust his legs again, avoid staring at the pinks that dust Steve’s everywhere-

“You draw me a lot.” Steve interrupts Billy’s train of thought.

Billy looks up, holding Steve’s wrist like it was his own. “You sit for me a lot-”

“What's your favorite part to draw?”

Billy’s breathing feels thicker, like his throat is coated in honey, sweet but hard to breathe. “Of you?” “Yeah.”

“Your nose.” Billy says easily, because it's safe to say.

Steve smiles. “You've said that before.”

“It's true.” Billy prepares to turn away again, to tell Steve they should get more done while there's still daylight.

Steve’s fingers hook against the palm of Billy's hand. This is playing with fire.

Steve lifts Billy's hand up, touches it to the bridge of his nose.

He can feel the sharp bone under his forefinger.

“Where else?”

Billy inhales. It's a feat. “Your jaw.”

Steve pulls Billy's hand down his cheek to touch his jawline. They’ve been avoiding this forever,

“And?” Cliche game of cat and mouse. Right now, Billy’s the mouse.

“Your shoulders.” Billy watches Steve drag his hand down his perfect neck to the slope of his perfect shoulders. “Steve.”

“Billy.” Steve mocks Billy’s warning tone just a little. “Come on, what else?”

Billy swallows again. He doesn't respond he just lets his hand wander lower, lower, down his chest, to his stomach-

Billy stops his hand, pushes back against Steve’s. “I’ve never drawn you nude, if that's what you’re implying.”

“Maybe you should.” Steve’s finger’s slide up Billy's forearm to hook under the edge of his rolled up sleeve.

“I’d need a couple different references...” Billy trails off. He knows Steve is about to kiss him.

It’s still delicious when he does. No number of days, weeks, waiting for one of them to make a move, of thinking what that move would be, what it would feel like, would have prepared Billy for the spit-sweet taste of a first kiss in the late afternoon.

i might do a part ii or just leave it like this lol

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #my fic #my writing #its the renaissance au

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yesokaythatsfine69 · 4 years

Text

Saving Grace

Description: Levi faces off against the female Titan but because of another recruit he is hurt. You must find him.

Characters: y/n, Levi, Hange, Jean, Eren, Mikasa

Warning(s): cursing, fluff

A/n: Hey guys, I've been on a binge of aot. Also there's a lot of x readers abt the reader getting hurt and Levi saving them, (I've written one) so I did the reverse of that. Also b sure to check out my HC's from my last post.

Word count:

Song: willow, by Taylor swift.

*none of the gifs used are mine, all credit goes to the maker.

You gripped the reins of your horse, your eyes flickering to the trees around you. Hange spoke beside you, roughly pulling the reigns of her house just to keep up with you. "Levi said he would meet us there, y/n." Yes, you remembered that. You also remembered vividly how he hadn't told you goodbye.

"y/n take the others to rendezvous with Hange's squad." Levi had been riding alongside you, much like Hange was now. He liked to keep close, usually never leaving your side. At his words you turned, eyes wide.

"Are you sure? We're-" He gave you a stern look, as if to remind you that he wasn't just 'levi' or 'captain frowny-face' he was 'Captain Levi.' you gripped your reins tighter and nodded, turning away from him. This wasn't apart of the plan, but captain asshole had heard something from behind you.

You were traveling with Eren, who was at the time unconscious, and several other cadets. Levi had been on edge, which made sense, neither of you were with your usual squad. And your greatest weapon was currently lying in an exhausted heap. "Victor, you're with me."

You gritted your teeth in shock and frustration. Why didn't he ask you to go with him? Victor was a new cadet. Shy. Tall. Fifteen years old, and awkward. He wasn't you. He also wasn't Levi's girlfriend, though.

You kept forward, even as you heard both Levi and Victor zip away. Bitterness made you focused. Neither of you said goodbye, as if you hadn't known and cared for each other deeply.

Now, you were riding back into the woods, facing the opposite direction. This exact situation reminded you of the time Levi and Mikasa had chased down the female Titan to rescue Eren. He came back with a broken ankle. That had been bad enough.

Levi missed the checkpoint. You waited long enough, and made to leave. Hange stopped you and invited herself along. You didn't ask why.

"I don't understand where the hell he could be." You said finally, stopping your horse. "Usually you can hear odm gear if the woods are quite enough." Hange stopped beside you. The woods were quite enough, yes. A few bird calls here and there. But there was no hissing of odm gear or thuds of titans.

Again you gritted you teeth. "Levi!"

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

When Levi woke up, or woke up enough to take in his surroundings, he wasn't in pain or in fear. He was leaning against a tree, on his knees. The air was light, and quiet. Sunshine beamed through the leaves of trees, and a bit of warmth hit his face.

He blinked and leaned his head back. He was tired, and if everything were as peaceful as it was right now, he didn't see any problem in drifting off once more.

The warmth on his face seemed to caress him, like the fingers of a lover. The tweets of a nearby bird lured him into darkness, and he relaxed.

"Levi!"

His eyes popped open. He didn't hear what was said, but nonetheless the sound was enough to shatter the peaceful state he was in. Disoriented, he lifted up his head from against the tree and looked side to side. His brow furrowed when he saw nothing around him. Just the glow of green, the warmth of sun.

There was no one around him. The sound or call began to drift from his conscious as if he'd never heard it to begin with. Again he lied his head against the tree.

And again his eyes fluttered shut. Levi couldn't remember ever being this tired, or maybe he was just always this tired. He couldn't remember. He guessed though, now it didn't really matter.

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

"He went this way, so they can't be far." You were still on your horse, and Hange was riding close behind you. "Y/n, the sun's going down. If we don't hurry it'll be dark before long." You nodded, and turned to your friend. "I'm going to check just a bit further, then we can leave."

You rode further, and the more you seemed to go deeper, the more eerie the words became. You'd always hated the forest, it creeped the fuck out of you. It wasn't even the fact that titans roamed the area. They were just the icing on the cake.

You got off your horse, gently leading the animal. "Where the hell is that-" Then you smelt it. Blood. You dropped the reins of your horse. "Levi."

Running forward, you followed the smell. Then...you found it's source. Victor's body was on the ground, his head missing. The ground was stained with his blood, and mere inches away was what was left of a Titan.

The picture was hellish. But something has to have killed that Titan. You doubted it had been victor. You went forward, walking past the bodies and the carnage.

At first you found nothing. No wires or odm gear, no body or movement.

Then you turned and light caught your eye. "Levi!" You gasped, your eyes meeting his body. He was leaning against a tree, on his knees. His arms were at his side, blood soaked.

Yet, despite all of this Levi looked scarily peaceful, his mouth slightly ajar and his eyes closed. He never looked his height, really. Levi Ackerman seemed to tower among men in life, but now, now he had never appeared smaller to you.

The scene was horrifying.

You slide to where you were on your knees before him. You gripped his shoulders and shook them. "Levi!" You didn't remember crying but tears had begun to pour from your eyes in spades. He breathed, something like a gasp- and his eyes fluttered open.

"y/n?" You gasped out a laugh when he spoke, and pushed him into you. "Levi..." You pulled away, and gently pushed a stray hair from his face. His eyes were half lidded and you could tell he was out of it.

He felt like he was under water, and his movements were slow and hazy. You could see his disorientation in his eyes.

"why are you being so loud, y/n?" You moved to his right side, gently wrapping an arm in-between his knees. "I was trying to sleep." You hummed an apology as you pulled your other arm around his neck. "you can sleep on me, okay?" "Tch." Was his only verbal response, but he gently laid his head on your chest.

You lifted him up, thankful for his small frame and lean build. You carried him past the carnage, reminding yourself of where Victor's body was so it could be picked up later. "It's peaceful, isn't it, y/n?" Your eyes widened and you glanced down at Levi.

His eyes were closed and his head was still leaning against you. You swallowed. When you got to your horse, you put him up first, leaning his body against the neck of the animal. Then you slide in behind him, gently grabbing his hips and pulling him to lean on you instead. He turned his head, and opened his eyes, watching as you grabbed the reigns and began to leave.

His breathe tickled your neck, and his eyes heated your cheeks. Frustrated with his focus on you, you quipped, "As per the service fee for saving you, you have to make sweet love to me now."

Levi groaned, but leaned into you more, putting his head under your chin.

You met back up with Hange, (who would've made some comment about Levi's current position on your horse had he not looked so rough.) And began your ride back. His breath was even throughout the ride, but he seemed to remain in and out of consciousness, which disturbed you.

When you returned, medics helped you lift him from your horse.

"Don't worry y/n, we'll take care of him." A nurse assured you. "Humanity's strongest will be just fine."

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

Levi was swinging through trees, searching. Blood pumped in his ears, his heart thumping a mile a minute. An abnormal had attacked them, grabbing onto victor and disappearing, carrying the screaming fifteen year old with him. Hooking up his odm gear, Levi sprung after the Titan.

Finally, the ugly bastard stopped and turned to him, smiling as he bit off the head of the screaming boy, silencing him forever and spraying the entire area with his blood.

Then the Titan turned on him. Levi was able to take it down, but as he swung into the air, his gas emptied and he landed head first into a tree.

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

Levi gasped, raising off the bed he was on, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "What? What's wrong?" You stood up from your chair, having been half asleep yourself. Levi's eyes were wide until they adjusted to the room. It was dark, and he was on a bed.

In a moment he realized he in his own room. He rubbed his eye before he took everything in. He didn't have a shirt on, and he lifted the blanket to check underneath. You noticed his blush, even in the darkness of the room. "I figured you wanted to sleep in clean garments."

Levi ignored that and instead asked, "Victor?" You were silent for a second, thinking how to respond. It was too long for levi apparently and he pulled back his covers and moved to get up. "What-What are you doing?"

"I shouldn't be here- I-" You grabbed onto his arm and pushed him back. "There's no where else you should be, Levi." He gritted his teeth. "Captain."

Immediately you let him go, your eyes wide. Then they narrowed. Without thinking you slapped him, and the man flinched. Hair flying to cover his eyes.

You two were silent for several moments, and the room was tense.

"Why do...why are you so..." You groaned. "Fuck you." Levi said nothing, his face still down. Why'd you have to go by yourself? Why didn't you take me with you? These thought pulsed in your mind, causing your head to ache. Why couldn't he see that he was more than just your captain?

"I..." But most importantly why couldn't you just say this. "I know, y/n." You blinked. "I know...and I'm sorry." His shoulders shook. "I'm sorry." You immediately softened and within seconds you had wrapped up in your arms and pressed against your body.

You shushed him gently, until you lifted his face up to meet your own. Then you met his lips, softly connectings yours with his. He sighed into your mouth, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't want you to die, Levi."

Tears trailed down your face, and your grip tightened. "I don't just want to be another cadet to you."

He flinched, and wrapped his hands around your face. His raven orbs pierced your own, and gently laid his head against yours. "I just wanted to protect you...you don't know how many times, I've failed to protect...the people I love...I can't lose you, too."

You kissed his nose, "You can't just look out for me, you dolt." Levi frowned. "You gotta look out for humanity's strongest too, ya know." Levi nodded, and you smiled. Then you kissed him, twisting your head, and moving your lips against his.

It was salty but sweet as could be, you tugged against his bottom lip and he moved into you. However, you pulled away and gently placed your hands around Levi's face. You kissed his nose, each cheek, his forehead, every bit of him.

"tch, y/n," he tried to chase your lips but you doged, kissing his ear. "Y/n." He tried again, and this time you kissed his chin. "Please, just-" again, he tried and failed. He sighed, and relented, allowing you to kiss his entire face, head, and neck.

When you were done you pulled back away from him and squished together his cheeks. "Are you still up for some sweet love making?"

"I think I have a concussion."

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

Thanks for reading! Requests are open!

#levi x reader #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #aot imagines #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader #x reader #imagines

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lune-hime · 4 years

Text

Future (Chocobros x f!Reader)

“How did you imagine our future?”

↞Noctis↠

The blossoms tickled your cheek as you turned to regard the prince. His question was asked with a tone as light as the crisp night air.

“Well, last I checked we were still getting married.” You chuckled, reaching out to idly caress a velvety petal between your fingertips. “It will be a grand wedding, no doubt.”

Noctis hummed contently next to you, your forms spread out in the vast field.

“We can expect nothing less from Specs.” He added. The two of you giggled at the image of a Ignis as a wedding planner.

“What should we do for the honeymoon?” You speculated to the starry sky, gaze getting lost in the endless maze of constellations.

“Sleep.” Noctis replied dreamily. You huffed and shook your head in disbelief, the movement causing petals to fall into your splayed locks.

“How about going fishing?” He proposed. The scowl you gave him caused an amused smile to settle on his smooth features.

“Altissia and a little sleeping and fishing on the side?” He offered in a last ditch attempt to fit his two favorite activities into the plans.

“That sounds more like it.” You sighed happily, letting the coolness of the midnight breeze delicately prickle your skin.

“Y/N.” Noctis cooed, the sound as smooth as the surface of the flowers. You turned back towards him, heart lighting up when you were met with his smile. The euphoria only lasted a moment, however, before the once pleasant chill of the night began giving you goosebumps.

“Promise me something.” He requested in a feigned upbeat tone. You could tell he was trying to mask the sadness in his voice.

You nodded once, watching the corners of his mouth quiver slightly.

“Anything.” You whispered. Noctis’ touch was temperate in contrast to the brisk air as he reached out to run his palm along your jawline.

“Promise me you won’t let me ruin your future."

Every physical aspect of reality had seemed to halt in that moment. You no longer had any sense of time nor of the itchy feeling of the blades of grass against your bare legs. You could no longer see the complex colors of the heavens and the moons seemed like dull street lights in the sky. The cold wind no longer bit at your skin. You felt completely numb to everything except Noctis.

“What?” You choked, suddenly feeling like a rock was lodged into your throat. Noctis’ shook his head, silently telling you not to cry, and flashed you another grin.

“Please do everything we just talked about, either for yourself or with someone who makes you happy.” His voice cracked at the second half of his phrase, but he retained his grin.

“I’m so sorry I’m not able to give you that future, goddess knows I would have given you the entirety of Eos.” His sapphire eyes reflected the dazzling lights in the sky and his gaze was filled with thousands of words he would never be able to say to you.

“Instead of living in my memory, live for my memory, okay?” His eyes softened into a smile of their own as he regarded you like it was the last time he ever would.

Suddenly, you felt the sudden urge to embrace him but before you could throw yourself into his arms, he had disappeared on the wind and you felt yourself being dragged out of the field with a swift tug.

“Rise and shine, Y/N. By the six, we need to find a new expression for that now. Time for another hunt.” Iris sang as she gingerly shook you awake. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you craned your neck to peek out the tent window to regard the dark world that awaited for you. Heaving yourself up from your sleeping back, you rubbed your eyes and cracked your back with a resounding pop before getting to your feet. After slipping on your boots, you gave the jewel around your left ring finger a loving twirl as you walked out to the campsite. Even in the shadows of Eos, the little gem still managed to shine.

“I promise, Noct.”

He was now your past, but you would forever be his future.

↞Prompto↠

He was the personification of a wilting flower. His once bright eyes were now sunken and bordered by heavy bags. He barely showed his dazzling smile anymore, so you had said goodbye to the little dimple on his cheek weeks ago. Even his once vibrant golden locks had seemed to dim in hue along with the rest of the world. When Eos lost its sunlight, so did you.

You barely registered the question he posed into his lukewarm coffee. Your heart broke when you hear the hopelessness in his voice.

Turning towards him, you reached over only to brush past his arm to grab his camera lying on the diner counter. Prompto looked over to you with slight interest, still slumped weakly in his chair. You flipped through the photos, pressure bubbling behind your eyes at the happiness of your youth. He always kept old pictures on his camera to make sure he never forgot what life used to be like. Photos were physical and more tangible compared to memories, anyway. You blinked back the wetness in your eyes until you found it.

Wordlessly you slid the camera over to him, and he picked it up with gentle hands. Once his gaze met the screen, they starting shaking and the camera began to fall from his grasp. You placed your hands firmly over his, securly holding the device in place.

It was a selfie Prompto took of the two of you at Wiz’s Chocobo Post early on in your journey. Sandwiched in between the two of you was your own Chocobo, Blueberry, his periwinkle feathers bristling in excitement and his beak open in mid chirp. Happiness radiated off you and Prompto, your smiles overtook all the other features of your face and the afternoon sun casted a cheerful glow over the image.

Prompto sucked in a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

“This was our future.” You gestured towards the photo with a sad smile. You removed your hands from his and used them to cup his cheeks, turning him to face you. It was the first time in a while you had gotten him to directly look at you.

“And it still is.” You stated, voice unwavering. As you looked into his eyes, all the memories of your Prompto flashed through your mind like the title credits of a movie. A happy smile found it's way to your lips this time.

“You are forever my sunshine, even more now so that the world has grown dark. And we will find the light again.” You sealed your promise to him with a soft kiss, his arms immediately coming to cup your forearms gently. When you pulled away you saw a few stray tears had begun staining his cheeks but more importantly that dazzling smile that could drive the darkness away with one glance.

↞Ignis↠

The soft puff of air that left your mouth tickled the corner of Ignis’ lips. Your hesitation caused his heart to sink. He bit his lip nervously, teeth worrying over the chapped skin. He didn't mean to sour the previously sweet and intimate moment but the question had become a chronic worry of his. The various fictional situations of his disability somehow ruining your constantly ran through his mind and were gnawing on his insides.

In the absence of a response, he felt his intrusive thoughts begin to manifest into reality. Before he could turn away, however, your hands on his chest rose to gingerly clasp onto his cheeks, forcing him to face you. Through his clouded vision, he could only see the shadow of your movements but he knew your features were contorted in the way they did when you were trying to articulate a particular feeling.

“I didn't picture it like this, but I know you didn't either.” You almost laughed, bringing his face closer and looking into those milky green orbs. Although seemingly lifeless, they still sparkled with the same vigor the man had expressed before the incident. Brushing his eyelids shut with gentle fingertips, you replaced your touch with a feather light kiss to both of them. When you pulled back, the look of adoration on Ignis’ face made your heart swell. Who knew such a simple thing like a kiss could calm the tidal waves of insecurity that resided within the man.

“But I wouldn't change a thing, because even though the world went to shit, I still have you. And you are still you no matter what happens.”

↞Gladiolus↠

Gladiolus’ question replaced the comfortable silence between the two of you as you maneuvered through the briarwood. The inquiry made you laugh and you almost slipped at the minor distraction, boots squelching against the muddy ground. Gladiolus, reflexes as nimble as ever, gripped your arm thus preventing you from coming into contact with a sizeable bramble bush.

“Well, our lives haven’t exactly been a fairytale now have they?” You replied sarcastically, the both of you chuckling as he lifted up a low hanging vine so you could step under.

“I mean, sure I obviously thought it would be a lot different than this-” You started, abruptly stopping in the middle of the path much to Gladiolus’ confusion.

“But look.” You smiled, pointing to the sky. Gladiolus followed your finger to the thick canopy of the woods. A clearing in the branches allowed for pale rays of sunlight to seep through the dense foliage, the sun warming his skin and causing him to squint. His eyes started to sting from it’s intensity, but it was a welcoming feeling. What wasn’t welcome, however, was the moisture that began collecting in his eyes.

“And we have this” You stated, taking his hand and guiding it to rest on the slight bump of your stomach. He splayed his palm and rubbed soothing circles against the fabric of your shirt. He regarded you with an adoration he never knew he would get to experience.

“Thank you, Noct, for giving us this future.” Gladiolus said to the sky, his voice thick with a menagerie of emotions. The sun had given back their ability to live, but it was the boy behind the sun that had given Eos a second chance to shine.

↞Bonus↠

“Noct for the thousandth time NO we are not spending our honeymoon at the recreational fishing area.” You retorted over your shoulder as you sped walked to keep up with a swift paced Ignis. Why did he have to have such long legs?

Ignis was simultaneously speed firing you questions regarding the shapes and materials of various dining wares and whether or not you wanted hydrangeas or lilies placed in the center of each table as the three of you maneuvered through the elaborate department store. Well, it was more like the two of you with how far back Noctis was straggling behind. While Ignis was like a worker bee buzzing from section to section, the prince on the other hand was taking a leisurely stroll; touching random items here and there but not regarding them with much enthusiasm. You had told him that it was fine if he didn’t come; you were enjoying planning out your wedding enough for the two of you. But Noctis protested, saying that even though it wasn’t his favorite thing to do, he wanted to be there because at the end of the day it was both your wedding.

Ignis abruptly stopped in front of a vast display of fabrics, carefully inspecting each one with fine detail. You patiently waited behind the advisor, giving Noctis some time to catch up.

“On any other occasion a weekend fishing with you sounds heavenly, but I don’t want to spend our honeymoon smelling like trout and stinky worms.” You stated, grimacing at the thought of your cute outfits smelling like dead fish.

“Which one of these do you fancy would be suitable for the table cloths for the reception?” Ignis inquired, shoving a book of samples into your hands as he slowly moved down the line of textiles. A moment later, Noctis popped up behind you, idly looking at the samples from over your shoulder. Once you noticed his presence, you held them up so he could get a better view.

“Black obviously.” Noctis declared blandly. It was clear to everyone that he wasn’t that into the whole wedding planning process and was more excited for the actual event than having to be involved in everything that went into arranging it. It didn’t help that he had to get up two hours earlier than he normally did either.

“Of course, Noct, but which black.” Ignis exhaled, looking close to short circuiting. The cloth samples were indeed both a dark shade of cobalt, but they differed in pattern and sheen. Taking matters into your own hands you pointed to the silk cloth with intricate silver embroidering.

“This one is pretty, Iggy.” You chimed in, wanting to keep Ignis’ sanity intact and let Noctis be done with the whole process as soon as possible.

“Couldn’t agree more, Y/N. You always have had the better sense of aesthetics out of the two of you.” Ignis praised before immediately moving onto the next item on the list, leaving behind an annoyed Noctis. You choked back a laugh and turned to face him, poking his puffed cheeks until his pout turned into a smile.

“How about we go to Altissia, with some fishing on the side?” He proposed, grasping your hands and lowering them from his face to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“It’s a deal!” You beamed, bouncing on your heels. The excitement on your features set off sparks in Noctis’ chest.

“If I receive some persuasion, maybe we can throw in a few naps in there too.” You added playfully, swaying your entangled hands from side to side.

“Oh, we can do more than just nap.” Noctis grinned, taking his hands out of yours and fluidly moving to lightly tickle your sides, offering an animated shriek from you. Just as you were getting into a small tickle fight, the buzzing of the store’s intercom system activated.

“Stop dilly-dallying lovebirds and lets get a move on, we still have to go to the caterer’s office after this. I am in isle 24, the silverware section.” Ignis’ unamused voice echoed off every surface of the building.

The two of you exchanged a look of disbelief before breaking out into hysterical laughter.

“Better not keep him waiting.” You patted his chest and broke away from his embrace. Noctis rolled his eyes and placed a kiss to your forehead before the two of you ran hand in hand to your lovely wedding planner.

#ffxv #ffxv gladiolus #ffxv noctis #ffxv prompto #ffxv ignis #noctis x reader #Noctis Lucis Caelum #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #ignis scientia #ignis x reader #ffxv imagines #fanfiction #final fantasy fanfiction #chocobros #chocobros x reader

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chironshorseass · 3 years

Note

“We're gonna be okay, I promise that” for the prompts, if you want to ofc

yeah, um...i planned on making this angsty. but then i remembered: skater percy.

read on ao3

“We're gonna be okay, I promise that.”

Annabeth looked down at the steep slope of the concrete beneath her. It was steeper than she’d thought.

Slowly, her eyes drifted back to her boyfriend, whose hands rested comfortably on her hips.

“How do I know that we’re not gonna fall off and die?” she said, not daring to move an inch from her death grip on Percy’s neck.

It was a miracle that he hadn’t choked from her grasp already. She probably looked laughable—all paralyzed and wide-eyed—but she didn’t care.

“Because,” he said, holding her tighter. “I’ve got you. And I’m not letting go.”

“Reassuring,” she muttered but didn’t argue further.

She had to do this. There was a reason why she’d practically begged Percy to teach her how to skateboard. She knew the basics now, but hanging out too much with his friends and feeling useless around them as they all took to skating around this particular park had done something to her self confidence.

However, she’d told herself that she could do this.

And yet, she had no clue why the idea of this ramp and her balancing on just a piece of wood terrified her so; she’d experienced much more frightening situations during her lifetime. Monsters weren’t exactly cute and cuddly, after all. But there was just something about this slope and this skateboard that made her want to run and hide and never look back.

“Hey,” Percy said softly. He’d likely sensed her thoughts, what with how well he knew her. “We don’t have to do this, you know. It’s okay to be scared. I was scared the first time I tried this. We can just do it another time.”

“No, no—I want to try this out.” Because she couldn’t give up; her pride wouldn’t allow it.

“It’s going to be a breeze after the first time. Trust me on this.”

Easy for him to say. He was the invulnerable one in the relationship.

“Just…don't let go, okay?” she said.

“I won’t. Already promised that.”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear—which was partially hidden under her helmet. A helmet he’d forced her to wear, though she realized just how foolish she’d been to argue with him against it, because if she fell off, the helmet was her only salvation. His fingers swiped at some other stray hairs, and the tender feel of his fingers brushing against her skin made her heartbeat slow down its galloping pace.

“You ready?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Cool.” Her arms wrapped around his neck impossibly tighter than before. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay,” he repeated, grinning.

She saw his leg lift itself off the ground, ready for its placement on the skateboard. But still, the board barely moved an inch, as if Percy was waiting for some kind of signal.

“What are you waiting for, Seaweed Brain? Get it over wi—AAAHHHH!”

The words left her throat in a shrill screech. Clarisse would’ve never let her forget it if she’d been present in that moment. Luckily, it was just her and Percy and the steady roll of the small wheels beneath her feet. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what Percy had taught her. Tighten the butt and tighten the abdomen.

And most importantly, not letting go.

The moment was over as quick as the wind rushing past her face when going down the ramp. Through her screams, all she’d felt was Percy. She’d only felt his warm hands on her back keeping her in place, and when she opened her eyes, they were gliding steadily across the rest of the park.

Annabeth let out a breath of relief.

“That...wasn’t so bad,” she managed to say, glancing up at him.

The smile he gave her was infectious—a boyish grin that only meant trouble. Fit for a skater boy, some of the Aphrodite kids would say.

But she knew, better than most, that Percy meant more than just trouble. He was beautiful this way, with his snapback making his curls peak out like clouds in the sky and his green eyes sparkling with pride, that gaze directed only to her.

“Hey, I knew you could do it,” he said as they turned a corner.

With the wheels from the skateboard, the concrete felt as smooth as glass, like she could skate for hours without stopping. Most of all, this closeness to him felt like freedom. Like the first breath after submerging underwater. It was as if, now that she’d gone down that ramp, she felt unstoppable with a giddiness that only occured on the first kiss, or on a first date.

She’d begun to realize however, that with Percy, everything new felt like turning a chapter.

“Feeling good for another round?”

She found herself beaming. “Sure thing.”

They stopped suddenly, and she craved that intimacy with him as soon as he jumped back into solid ground. She had no choice but to do the same.

“I’ll accept another round. But only if you don’t let go,” she said, nudging him. They walked side by side, hand in hand, towards the ramp.

“Easier said than done.”

Suddenly, he halted in his step but didn’t drop her hand. That’s when she turned around, only to find him mere inches away from her.

“What are you doing?”

He cocked his head to the side, sending her that look. It was a look that she’d never get used to, even now, that they were dating. His lips tugged upwards; she felt his arm drag her closer to him, like when they were riding on that skateboard that currently lay discarded on the ground.

“You told me to not let you go.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’m doing.”

His breath was warm against her lips.

“Getting cocky, are we?”

It came out breathier than she expected. It wasn’t like anyone could blame her, really. Not when Percy’s lips spread to a full-on grin as he cupped her cheek.

“What can I say? Dating you makes anyone’s ego skyrocket.”

She barked out a laugh, ignoring the way her cheeks grew hot. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He only hummed, leaning down even more. Taking his face in her hands, Annabeth, guided him closer—and that’s when her helmet bumped with his forehead, making them both laugh.

“I told you the helmet was stupid,” she said.

“Ah, fuck it.”

Percy’s head tilted slightly further to the left, and before she could protest, their lips had already met in a soft, feather-light kiss. Sighing, her fingers brushed against his jaw. She stood on her tippy toes, then, deepening the kiss.

Who knew he’d one day grow taller than her? Sometimes, she saw it as a disadvantage. Like right now, as she tried to grab hold of Percy's snapback that was just barely out of reach. Finally achieving her goal, she broke the kiss.

“Hey!” he protested, noting how she’d promptly taken his snapback and placed it on top of her head. “What was that for?”

Annabeth gave him a quick peck on the lips before stepping away. She winked at him, throwing her helmet his way.

“It’s my turn to look cool, now!”

“Get back here!”

But she’d already broken into a sprint, reaching for the ramp.

“Race you to the top!” she called out.

“That’s not fair and you know it!”

“See ya later, boy!”

“Ohh you are not quoting Avril Lavigne on my watch!”

“Why not?”

She felt a breeze brushing by her side and heard the tell-tale sound of the roller wheels. Faster than she’d thought possible, Percy whirled and whisked the snapback into his own hands, then tossed the helmet she’d hurled at him earlier. Demigod instinct took care of that, hands reaching to catch it in the blink of an eye.

“Hey, no fair!”

“You weren’t being fair, either!” is all he said, as he kicked back with his leg and sprang to the top.

Show off.

He made skating look easy, the jerk.

Apparently leaving a skateboard behind with a Skater Boy had its disadvantages. But she laughed anyway, once she reached the top—once he belted out the lyrics to that Avril Lavigne song at her arrival.

The pull of gravity when skating down the ramp took her breath away, but afterwards, she laughed again, and again, until that’s all she knew how to do.

And of course, she now knew how to skate.

(She’d found that in more ways than one, dating a skater had its perks.)

#mac tag #writing prompts #ahh this is corny this is corny but I can't stooopp #percabeth #percabeth fic #skater percy #skater!percy #pjo fic #look mom i can write #it’s nearly 1 am why do i write stuff at 1 am

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railroad-migraine · 3 years

Note

If your still up for exandria unlimited headcanons how about Dorian, Opal, and Fearne's reactions to their Sorcerer!SO where their SO keeps trying to show off their magic for them but ends up either clumsily tripping over themself or accidentally catching a stray banner on fire. I just love when the reader is the dork hopelessly in love. I also want to thank you for the time spent reading this and I hope you have a good day and or night!

First, thank you for your message, you're so polite - I hope you have a lovely day/night as well! And second, yes, I'm so happy with EXU requested stuff! They're my speciality (and the reason why I started posting fanfic) 💙

Requests are open!

~ Poet

Dorian

While Dorian took centre stage for a low-key performance along your travels, you thought a little dramatic lighting during one of his more upbeat tunes might impress your genasi bard. Dancing Lights immediately came to mind - the soft and controlled glow would provide such a romantic vibe to the tavern, and highlight his cheek bones just right...

Trailing off in your swooning thoughts, you did a little flourish with your hands as the tempo sped up - and something buzzed within your arcane focus that warned you that the spell you just cast was wrong. A chain of radiant orbs around Dorian did not appear. Instead, the banners on either side of the small stage caught fire - long story short, the barkeep did not enjoy the atmospheric lighting you supplied.

To be completely honest, Dorian thought you set the wall hangings in the tavern on purpose. He approached you once you and the others found a new tavern to spend the evening in, hands sternly on his hips. "Care to tell me what that was all about?"

His annoyance quickly dissipated. He knew you were being genuine when you said you'd just wanted to add a bit of flair to his act, and had just tried your best. He stepped forward to hold you in his arms, shaking his head with fondness as he admitted that the colour of the banners were clashing with his outfit.

Fearne

The pressure was on. You were surrounded by numerous fey scorpions, with Fearne looking in your direction, concern on her face as she confronted her evil parallel self. In a split second decision, and being a little eager to impress, you cast Earth Tremor.

A beat, and suddenly rumbles deep in the earth below your feet were heard, then felt. Opal, Dorian and Dariax miraculously kept their balance, and the scorpions scrambled to try find their footing. How unfortunate it was that all your focus had been on Fearne's reaction to your divine power that you found yourself slip and fall on your ass.

The last thing you'd imagined to hear was Fearne breaking out into giggles in the middle of battle. You hastily brushed yourself off and sent her a quick I-promise-I-have-done-this-before look, and continued on fighting.

Once the evil fey was defeated, and Fy'ra had joined the party, Fearne plopped down next to you in the Glitter Shitter, and asked you if you were alright after your fall. Your face felt warm and you averted your eyes, but all she did was chuckle fondly and nudged your shoulder with hers, thanking you for the unlikely performance.

Opal

After spilling the beans to you about Ted, Opal suddenly became so curious about your own magic source. Seeing this as an opportunity to boast a little, you very proudly told her that magic has been running through your veins since before you were born, leaning back in your seat and fiddling with the arcane focus dangling around your neck.

She leaned in close, twisting a lock of hair around a finger, and asked for a demonstration of your powers. A little caught off guard, you swallowed and asked if now was an appropriate time and place for a magic show - you both had just relieved Orym from his watch for the night, and you had to keep your eyes peeled for any ambushes.

"Oh, well if you're not gonna do it..." You hated the disappointed look on her face, and scrambled to stand, telling her it'll just be a quick spell. With her full attention and bright eyes on you, you started to feel the familiar tingle of magic along your skin, muttered a few arcane words, gestured your hands and cast Control Flames on the campfire.

In your head, you pictured elegant licks of fire in the air, some even forming a heart shape. What happened though was far less aesthetic; the wood that had been burning suddenly crackled loudly, giving both you and Opal a fright as the flames rose to an incredible height before dying down. You stumbled over a stray tree root and fell directly into the warlock's lap. You expected to be laughed at or teased, but she just whooped and exclaimed how powerful and talented a significant other she had - waking up the others in her excitement.

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 4 years

Text

Exception to the Rule

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: M (?)

Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual themes. No smut, but I mean reader definitely wants to ride that cowboy. Period typical shame.

Summary: There is one exception to your rule about forcing Arthur to forgo chores and take a rest, that is the duty of chopping firewood.

Notes: Right, so I need someone to explain to me quite why I find men chopping wood to be attractive. I’m sure you can psychoanalyse the heck out of me from that fact alone.

Can you tell i’m a tad touched starved and needy at the moment? Can you tell, good sirs?

Archiveofourown

Arthur Morgan was the workhorse of the gang and that was a bonafide fact. The man brought in more money and more supplies than anyone else in camp. Added to the fact that he also did more than his fair share of chores, you often worried that the big burly outlaw would work himself to death. Especially with him picking up the slack for those who never seemed to do anything around camp like Uncle and Strauss.

Normally you’d stop him doing whatever chore he was doing, tell him to take a rest, go have a lie down and sleep or get some stew from the pot since he was the only reason you were even able to eat. You’d pull whatever he had from his hands and gently coax the man to go look after himself for five minutes which you’d manage to turn into at least an hour of down time. Every time he was reluctant, but grateful, asking you, ‘What’d I ever do to deserve you, darlin’?’ and every time you’d tell him something to the effect of ‘You were yourself, Mr Morgan’ while feeling flustered under his gaze.

There was one exception to this rule you had about getting Arthur to take some time off and look after himself. That rule was that whenever the man decided to bolster the camp’s firewood store you left him to it. Now this wasn’t a selfless decision, not one born out of respect for the man’s love for swinging a heavy axe at a wood log pretending it was Micah’s head. No, the reason for this rule was entirely, completely, most certainly the fact that Arthur Morgan never looked more handsome or primally attractive then when he was chopping wood especially in the height of summer or during the warmer season.

So, while you were most certainly going to hell and your late mother would be rolling in her grave, you found yourself on a stuffy warm day hands deep in a laundry bucket, but not really focusing on your work at all.

“Y/N, he’s at it again!” It had been Karen who’d notified you, giggling in your ear as you looked up and across camp towards the tree stump that was used for chopping firewood. Your arms elbow deep in soapy water, you hadn’t really thought to remove them, just lean further forward on your hands, lips parting with a sigh.

You don’t even care that you can hear the girls giggling behind you as they get on with their work, occasionally sneaking glances up at the same sight as you.

Arthur was strong, if he were a horse he’d be his 18 hands high shire horse. If he were a predator, he’d be a brown bear. It was always more clear though when he decided to chop firewood. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing thick, strong forearms dotted in scars and dark hair. You watched him roll his thick wrists once, twice before hefting the wood axe into his hands and up over his broad shoulders which tensed as he brought the axe down with a loud crack, the log splitting easily in two.

You watched the blue shirt strain over the breadth of his shoulders every time he brought the axe down, listened to the grunts that left his mouth with effort, followed the droplets of sweat that beaded at his forehead before rolling down his cheek and neck, disappearing beneath his favourite shirt. He grumbled slightly to himself about the dig of suspenders in his shoulders, slipping them off to rest by his thighs and threw his favourite gambler hat off to the side as it got in the way of his swings.

There was something about the immense power that Arthur exuded with each sharp decisive swing. The strength of his body combined with the sureness of his strokes made you slip a little with your hands in the washtub, splashing soapy water over the ground and your skirt with a curse.

You quickly returned your gaze to your work as you noticed Arthur’s head twist to check on you. Ever the helper and protector, he always seemed to zero in on any sound of complaint or unhappiness you made. You couldn’t have him catch on to your favourite chore.

“Y’alright over there, sweetheart?” It was called across the clearing, concern riding his voice as he briefly let the axe fall to his side to check on you. It brought a warmth to your body, blood rushing through you towards your ears and cheeks at his concern and your mild embarrassment.

“Oh, she’s just fine, Arthur. Don’t you worry about her!”

“Karen!” You twist from your place knelt on the ground and reach over to slap her arm. The truth was as much as you were interested in Arthur, you were simply friends. You made sure he didn’t work himself to death and he made sure you smiled on bad days. It was nothing more, nothing less, even if the sight of him made you feel weak at the knees. The last thing you wanted was to be embarrassed in front of him over your...thoughts.

“If you say so.” He gave the two of you a look before turning back to the stump. Putting it down briefly, you watched at first from the corner of your eye before being unable to resist his siren’s call as he unbuttoned the blue shirt and tossed it in a pile with his hat. Left in the top half of his union suit that clung tightly to the broad planes of his chest and the tight muscles of his shoulders, he was quite the sight.

Your eyes followed the strong line of his neck as he circled his head to stretch out a tight muscle and draw a crack from uncomfortable joints. They followed it down to the unbuttoned union suit that revealed strong collar bones and dark chest hair. Followed it down to the strong wide breadth of his body. More interested in that than the wood he was chopping.

“You might wanna close your mouth or else you might catch flies.” Tilly teases you, you would give her a playful glare, but couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away from the specimen of a man that had gone back to his wood cutting.

Another log, hefted onto the stump, biceps filling out as he bent his arms to lift it. Another swing of the axe, broad shoulders seeming even larger under the strain. Another grunt. Another droplet of sweat.

“My mother must be rolling in her grave.” You say aloud, just a random thought, a little thing. That if she could see the heat of your gaze on Arthur, feel the warmth to your skin, know the itch in your belly, then she’d drag you by the ear to confessional where you’d have to tell the priest about all those thoughts. Like how you wanted Arthur to just throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his tent.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be having such wicked thoughts about our dear Mr Morgan, Y/N. Mighty improper of you.”

“Mary-Beth, I defy any woman to not have wicked thoughts when Arthur’s chopping firewood.” You hit back eyes finally drifting from Arthur to your friends. Each of them has the same look you’re sure was on your face. Each no doubt having done exactly what you had done when Arthur started unbuttoning his shirt in the summer heat and heaving a heavy axe over his shoulder.

“She’s got a point, Mary-Beth, that’s a whole lotta man, right there.” Tilly chimes in and some of that guilt that gnaws at you for staring at Arthur in such an improper manner dissolves. You’re not the only one who enjoys watching him chop wood. You’re not wrong for it. You’re just a woman with blood in your veins.

“It’s a damn shame he thinks he’s ugly. He’s the most handsome man around camp.” You sigh out, thinking about the harsh words he always uses for himself as you watch him continue working on the wood pile. His beard has grown out and frames his face beautifully, even with that spot that he can never seem to grow any hair on. You think he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever met, his treatment of you and the other girls only adds to it. He’s so...soft. So soft for someone so tough and rough.

“He is handsome, but you’re a little biased, Y/N. What’s the saying about saving a horse?” Karen titters.

“Ride a cowboy!” Tilly and Mary-Beth say it so loudly that you’re immediately shushing them, embarrassment flooding through you. As you catch Arthur once again turning in your direction, brow furrowed as he looks at your group. His hand reaches up to scratch as his beard and part of you wants the ground to swallow you entirely whole.

“I...Get your minds out of the gutter!”

“Only if you get yours out first!”

“I...I.” You huff, returning to your abandoned washing, scrubbing one of Arthur’s shirts with a new vigour that you didn’t know you had in you. They giggle behind you before walking off to the washing line to hang clean clothes up to dry.

You have to admit that your thoughts about Arthur tend to stray to the impure, especially at night when your mind is left to wander. He’s just so broad, so goddamn big and everything about him makes you want to wrap yourself around him like an alligator doing a death roll. Coming from a more high society lifestyle before finding the gang you’re not as comfortable with those thoughts as the other girls seem to be. There’s always that nagging thought in the back of your head that something’s wrong with you for lusting after him. That it’s not what a proper lady would do. But, he makes your heart ache desperately whenever you think of him. He makes your body warm and your lips ache for his. It’s not even just his body, it’s just him. You’re always longing for his company, eager to see him return from a job or a hunt just to hear his southern drawl wash over you with sweet kindness.

“Are you sure you’re alright, darlin’?” You jump at the drawl, his deep voice unexpected. He’s abandoned his wood cutting, crouching down next to you. The frown speaks of his concern and you can’t help but smile softly at how much he cares about everyone including yourself.

“It’s nothing, Arthur. Don’t you worry about me.” You assure him, your eyes fixed on the shirt in your tub that is more than clean by now after your aggressive scrubbing. You finally managed to get that damn bloodstain out.

A hand reaches under your jaw and gently grabs your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his. It has a shuddering breath leave your lungs before you can stop it, the look that crosses his face goes from concern to confusion to understanding and flirtation as he realises just why you’ve let that breath out. Just why the girls were teasing you.

“I always worry ‘bout you, sweetheart. Especially in this heat. Wouldn’t wan’ you to keel over now, all hot and bothered as y’are.” HIs thumb finds the hollow underneath your jaw and you can’t help but lean into his touch just a little bit more.

“Seems I should be the one concerned for you, Mr. Morgan. What with you working up a sweat on a hot day like today.” Your voice is breathy and you feel a tinge of shame at how little composure you seem to be able to keep around this man.

“Well I th-” His advance closer to you is stopped, his words halt as Dutch yells from somewhere in the vicinity of his tent, “Arthur! I got a job for you, boy!”

With a heavy sigh and one last gentle swipe of his thumb under your jaw, Arthur pulls away from you.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Always.” You reply watching him walk away, disappointed but not sure what you were expecting to happen. Were you hoping he’d kiss you? Were you hoping it would escalate further? That this burning in your stomach would find some relief, that your dreams would not be pure imagination anymore but have some basis in fact.

You sit back on your heels with a heavy breath, eyes turning towards the washtub again. Back to work, you suppose. Like always.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #readerinsert #reader insert #female reader

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

The Immortal and the Soldier

Characters → Y/N & Bucky Barnes

Summary → Monsters live in humans, demons within man, haunted with despicable desires. A past never forgotten comes back to haunt Bucky Barnes and Y/N succumbs to her despicable desires.

Word Count → 5.9k (yeah this is a big boy...)

Warnings → 18+, Angst, violence, death, blood, mental health, vampires/monsters, smut.

Beta → the wonderful @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep and this came into my head so made a couple of notes in a doc and here we are! Oh and it took @fandomfic-galore, @kalesrebellion & @daydream3r-xo not even a minute to convince me to post this now...

Undisclosed Location, Italy - 1943

Moonlight cast an eerie blue-grey around the now quiet campsite. The tall trees that had long ago shed their leaves, expelled frightful shadows as their bodies swayed in the cold icy breeze. Roots like skeletal fingers scratching at the earth, clawing their way to the depths, and clinging to their life source.

Y/N pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders, clenching the meeting parts in her fist. The tears had long frozen to her face in the two-minute walk across the camp. Her scrunched expression stretching the icy remnants of her pain, now physical in the breeze pin pricking her cheeks and distracting her momentarily from the ache in her heart.

She focused on her steps, unable to see further than the ground below. As much as the moon allowed, she was able to avoid icy patches and twigs, trying not to make a sound. She crept away from Sergeant Barnes' tent to her own. Away from the man who had turned distant and cruel in tongue after his release from Hydra’s clutches.

Y/N had seen the way he’d eyed Agent Carter, how his sultry smirk had hidden the darkness in his once brilliant blues. She knew he'd suffered, had tried to talk to him tonight, to distract his thoughts but her advances had been unwelcomed and fully discouraged for the future.

James regretted what had happened between them. He'd said so in many ways and confirmed it with his icy glare. Y/N had managed to escape without showing him a single tear. But while she crept away her chest heaved, and she was soon a tumbling mess of sobs at the realisation he was not coming to chase her down, to pull her back into his quarters and wrap her in the warmth of his body.

A shiver ran through her body and she glanced to check her surroundings, all the tents looked the same. She held in a small gasp when there were none to be found. She’d strayed too far; she was no longer in the campsite. The trees denser and darker, and after turning in a full circle there was no path in sight. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten there; didn’t know the route she had taken or how to get back.

A puff of mist formed at each pant, white clouds in the almost-black. Fear gripped her chest, her heart thumped against her ribcage. Panic set in and Y/N scrambled between the trunks and over fallen trees. Her hair caught in the low hanging branches, pulling it out of its once neat style. Stockings soaked to the knee; toes numb in the leather lace-up pumps.

Her mind raced as her feet pounded against the thin layer of snow. She spun around in hope of finding a clearing, a source of light. Anything. The sounds of the nocturnal creatures; howls, hoots and animal cries filled the woodland. Tears rolled down her cheeks while she gasped and spluttered searching for an exit.

She stopped when she could no longer breathe. Preparing to call out for help. Someone would hear her surely. She panted for breath, trying to draw in enough air and calm her panicking brain to be able to shout.

Silence.

Her ears rang with the sound of nothing, not even the drift of the wind through the previously creaking branches. There was no ruffle of leaves or calls of the animals. Complete silence, an unnerving and fearful sound causing Y/N to hear the blood pumping through her ears.

A crunch behind her. She turned slowly, eyes glistening with unshed tears as she hoped to see a saviour. Even in the darkness and little amount of moonlight, she was able to see the silhouette of a figure; tall and lithe.

As if a spell was cast, she unknowingly walked towards the stranger. A sense of calm washed away the pain and fear that clung to her heavy heart with each step. The shadow stepped out into the stream of moonlight; the stranger had high cheekbones, set on a razor-sharp jaw, framed by long dark hair.

Y/N was rooted to the spot while the creature circled her, a predator, and its prey. Wide eyes, unblinking away from hers until they were no longer in view. Her heart hammered in her chest, the calm disappearing into a panic. Monsters lurked in the dark, under the bed and in closets. Monsters lived in humans, demons within man, haunted with despicable desires. She knew that’s what he was, a monster, she understood the danger, but she remained under his spell.

“Run.”

The snow slipped under her feet, the trees a blur as tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to outrun the stranger. Y/N couldn’t hear any other footfall so darted behind a tree, back resting against it. She tried to calm herself, but nothing helped quieten the panic taking over her soul.

It was almost silent apart from her laboured breaths. She glanced around the trunk but there was nothing there. Y/N sunk back against the trunk, closing her eyes. Her eyes shot open at the sound of a twig snapping and she was face to face with the stranger.

His red eyes glared while a ravenous grin around perfectly white teeth. The monster lurched forward and latched its mouth onto Y/N’s neck, she felt nothing other than relief. Everything slowed as Y/N fell to the snowy floor, no feeling of the ice seeping onto her clothes, over her skin and into her bones. Heartbeat dropping, as blood trickled down her neck until her world went blacker than the sky above. Her heartbeat stopped.

Y/N’s eyes flicked open in haste, searching for her bloodied saviour. He gracefully pulled her onto her feet, yet no words passed between them. Only his tongue darting out to clean her blood from his lips. She looked at his fiery eyes, the ones reflecting her own unique colour and for the first time, she felt alive.

Brooklyn, United States of America - 2024

The bar was upmarket, the kind with expensive drinks and dark velvet decor. The gothic theme was eaten up by the patrons; the black candles melting down various bottles, skulls and ravens dotted around the tables and shelves, and the ornate mirrors adorning the walls. Even the staff fit the part in their costumes as they waited on the tables and served cocktails in ornate goblets; the ones that looked like they were made in a laboratory rather than a bar.

Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and it had nothing to do with the bar’s theme. There sat on a stool at the end of the dark wood bar, Y/N was talking to the barman. Of all the places he’d been, all the time he’d been alive, he never thought he’d lay his eyes on Y/N again.

His mind flurried with memories of the past; soft and tender moments sullied by his demons on full display that frightful night he’d finally returned to camp from Hydra’s grasp. His words echoed around his head; he’d never forgotten them. He dismissed her from his tent, full of rage at Hydra and anxiousness for his future. Let alone the future he could provide for Y/N.

Regret and shame had stopped him from following her out into the camp, rooted to the spot on his cot bed as if by some supernatural force. Bucky had overheard the hushed whispers of the other nurses, but they always kept an eye out and stopped as soon as they noticed his presence.

He hadn’t seen Y/N since that night, hadn’t expected her to look for him either, she respected herself and that was one of the many things he had admired. And now, eighty years later, it was as if magic had brought back his angel.

The woman’s style was different from that of the forties, but it was unmistakably Y/N. It must be her. Or was it just Bucky’s guilt and mission for redemption causing the hope fluttering in his chest as his eyes remained transfixed on the ethereal beauty at the bar.

Y/N’s face hadn’t gained a single wrinkle, her skin was flawless. She had darker eyes, yet it still held that glint of sass and taunt that he had once adored. It must be her, who else could it be? A descendant? Maybe she left Italy and settled down, started a family?

Bucky shook his head, an attempt to drown out the voices getting louder in his thoughts and joined his fellow Avengers in the veiled VIP booth. He tried to enjoy their company and the drinks that kept flowing regardless of his tolerance, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts quiet and his eyes continued to wander across the room.

A past long forgotten had come back to haunt and consume his thoughts with a compelling game of ‘what if…’. It would be a miracle if it was Y/N perched at the bar. But what if it was all a trick of the mind, an apparition, a spectre. A remnant of Hydra’s control triggered by something he was unaware of.

It was nearly a century ago, and, well, how had she survived this long without a blemish or sign of ageing? And if she did know who he was, would she know about him? The soldier, the weapon he was made into, the broken ghost of a man she once knew.

Physically, Bucky was no longer in Hydra's grasp and the triggers no longer affected him. But mentally, he would never forget Hydra or the Winter Soldier; what they did to James Buchanan Barnes and what he did for them. He remembered every victim, every intimate way he tortured and neutralised targets without question.

Was this woman an omen in the disguise of a miracle? A new technique for Hydra to get into his head, to break him, to control him again.

Questions and memories were quashed as the next round of drinks were provided. The group continued to bond, as per their boss’ request. Revisiting Brooklyn was on his long list of ventures after Shuri finished removing the trigger words, but then he got sucked into the soul stone only to be brought back to fight another war.

Bucky’s thoughts drifted to the dame that had captured his heart during a different war, a different era. The very similar-looking woman, still seated at the bar, sipped her drink, and batted away unwanted attention with a simple shake of the head or her leather-clad hand.

It was late October, but it wasn’t that cold yet, and being inside shouldn’t have warranted that attire. Though, they looked expensive. Unless it’s a fashion statement, Bucky scoffed and flexed his visible Vibranium fingers. You once did the same thing; to hide.

Luckily, from his spot, she couldn’t see him as he peered through a gap in the black lace curtains of the closed-off area. She was fond of the barman, he continued to return to her end of the bar and immediately scared off the patrons in her vicinity, they continued to talk and laugh with one another while he made the concoctions listed on the extensive cocktail menu.

It is her. Bucky’s heart thumped against his chest, blood pumped adrenaline through his body as he noticed the way she laughed, how she tucked a loose strand of hair back in place and as she sipped her drink and her lips curled around the glass.

Bucky ignored his teammates' conversations, he was completely enraptured by Y/N. Unsure of whether to go over and talk to her or to watch from a distance, to get indisputable evidence it was her. The woman turned towards the VIP area, looked straight at him, and nodded to the seat beside her.

He downed the vodka, the spirit scratching at his throat, out of habit and not to give him Dutch courage and left the VIP area. He ignored the jeers and whistles from his fellow Avengers. His body hummed with uncertainty and excitement. A nervous twitch sent his hand through his locks, his fingers flailed at his neck at the sudden reminder that it was not shoulder-length anymore.

Y/N had spotted James the moment he stepped through the doors, the mirrors behind the bar had given her the best position to scope out the venue and its patrons. Her body tensed at the sight of him, only easing as his smile grew and he walked along the parallel wall with a group of friends.

Even though she had looked away, Y/N had felt his gaze on her and couldn’t help but almost mewl at the thought of him recognising her. The potential conflict going through his head was whetting her appetite for destruction.

Of course, she knew exactly who he was, who he had become. Unbeknownst to him, she’d crossed his path several times over the last century. She knew all about his time as Hydra’s fist, his escape and subsequent time as a fugitive, and even later in Wakanda where she’d slipped past the advanced technology without detection. Their defences were good, but they were only ever fearful of living enemies, they didn’t know to look for the dead.

She had been curious, he was alive and well, and hardly aged. Admittedly, at first, she was jealous that he had found a way to live beyond his years without the same insatiable thirst for blood she had. But as she watched him from afar, she realised the monsters that he battled daily were penance for his type of immortality.

There were moments that she’d considered freeing James, save him from the curse set upon him by Hydra. But she knew that no amount of compulsion could completely shake the things that they had done to him. It was deeper than the surface levels that a young vampire could manipulate. Eventually, she hadn’t needed to when she came across his familiar scent in Africa, tracking it down to the hut in the hidden kingdom.

Y/N had kept tabs on him once the demons had been removed from his mind by the Wakanda Princess. The years that passed had done nothing to quell the scorch of his rejection. She had bided her time before making her presence known. A cunning smile adorned her ruby red lips as she heard his approaching steps, even over the now heavily crowded bar.

“Old’ Fashioned, please. And whatever the lady’s having.” James’ voice hadn’t changed, he was still a Brooklyn boy, even after all these years.

“Cosmopolitan,” Y/N responded with a wink at the bartender which didn’t go unnoticed by James though she turned her body towards him. “And may I ask the name of the person that has offered to buy me a drink?”

“You don’t know who I am?” James smirked, yet Y/N could see through his facade. He had a soft blush on his cheeks and the confident attitude was a mask.

Y/N’s eyes widened, and brows raised at the response, “That sounds a little pretentious don’t you think? Thank you,” she nodded to the bartender and lifted her drink in the direction of James before sipping at the pink liquid, “And to you.”

James handed over the bills and leant against the bar, his Vibranium hand swirling the golden liquid, “It’s Bucky. Well, James. But my friends call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you Jam-”

“-I don’t mean to sound rude,” James interrupted, “but you look very familiar, have we met before?”

“I assure you that we haven’t, I’d remember someone called Bucky.” Y/N giggled behind the glass while she took a sip. She kept her eyes trained on him, sending a different message to the laughter.

Surely James didn’t believe she was who he thought she was, couldn’t believe she was still alive after all this time. But then again, she hadn’t expected him to be either.

“No problem doll.”

His lips met the rim of the glass, but his eyes stayed on hers as she had done to him before. Though his eyes didn’t show any kind of the confidence he once had, he seemed quite the opposite, shy and maybe a little bit embarrassed at the slip of an endearing nickname.

Yet, the nickname sent a shiver over Y/N’s skin, goosebumps running over her flesh before pooling as butterflies in her stomach. She brushed her hands down the skirt of her dress, removing imaginary lint. An old habit from when she was human; when she was uncertain about what to do next.

The game she was playing wasn’t going to plan. She hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming. She hoped he’d forgotten about her, a distant memory from a dreadful time he’d rather forget. But something must have sparked for him to approach her. Perhaps he hoped to take her home and have his way with her as he had once before, make a new, better, memory of her.

This stalled her plans, James remembered, and that changed everything. It stopped her from being able to give him hell for how her life changed that night, to break him in ways that would make Hydra seem like playground bullies. She wanted to make him pay for all that she had become.

“Do I get to know your name?” James asked, a slight tilt of his eyebrow as he captured Y/N’s attention once more.

“Y/N.” She offered her gloved hand, which he took in his warm one

Alarm crossed James’ features and at the same time, the shock made Y/N pull her hand away. She had hoped the coldness of her skin wouldn’t penetrate the material, but it seemed where she ran cold, James ran hot. But now that Y/N had felt his warmth, she wanted to feel it against her icy skin. It had only been a small taste, but it was enough for her to want to know what she’d feel like under his touch.

Now that James was in front of her, Y/N’s resolve faltered. The ploy to see him suffer at her hands, to hurt him for how she became a blood lustful beast, was no longer at the forefront of her mind. James enchanted her as if the last eighty years hadn’t happened, a small sparkle in his eye, a crook of his lips and she was once again wrapped around his little finger.

Y/N kept her face neutral as she watched him study her while they made small talk. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the charade was over, that he’d ask her if she was Y/N Y/L/N. The woman that he had made love to during the war, had spent every second with when he was not on duty, and, ultimately, broken her heart.

“How?” James placed the empty glass down onto the bar, turning to face her fully in the seat.

“How what?” She played ignorant, holding off on bursting this bubble for as long as she could.

Y/N had indulged in James’ presence, her own unbeating heart was no longer aching with him so close. The idea of him leaving once again made her mentally squirm. She’d created a vengeful plan from her pain and was now living in a nightmare of being unable to go through with it.

“Did they get you?” James asked, quietly and softly, his hand covering her own that rested on the edge of the bar.

“No James, they didn’t. But another monster did.” Y/N jaw ticked, and she pulled her hand away, hopping down from the bar and looking straight at him. “Please don’t follow me, you’ll regret it.”

The streets of Brooklyn weren’t quiet, they were filled with chatter, laughter, and music. It wasn’t dark, the moonlight filtered between the buildings and the streetlamps lit the path towards Y/N’s form idly wandering down the block. Bucky kept his distance, Hydra’s training came in handy for some situations, he was sure that she wouldn’t be able to detect him.

Bucky’s heart raced as he followed Y/N, watching her walk away from him. She was the very same woman that he had never forgotten. The same woman that he’d dreamt of when he was the Winter Soldier. She had haunted him, always in his peripheral vision, slightly out of reach but there in his darkest hours and even when he was tending to the farmlands in Wakanda.

She did exist, had continued to exist and he was not going to let this be the last time he saw her. He had always known someone was out there, watching him and yet, he’d always thought it was his handlers, Steve, or other SHIELD agents and until recently, his teammates. But now he knew it was her. He just knew, somehow, a sixth sense guiding him, protecting him. Even after all he had done to hurt and destroy this world.

Now that Bucky knew she was alive, he wasn't going to let her slip through his fingers; he would chase her, fight for her. He wouldn’t give up on her as he had before. Bucky needed to know what happened, he wanted answers. But mostly, he needed to atone for all that he had done, it seemed she had left a mark on his soul from a time before he became the Winter Soldier.

Y/N knew James would ignore her request to not be followed. She sensed him behind her. He was too much of a gentleman still; and she could hear the sultry way he’d insist he ‘wouldn’t let a dame walk by herself’. Y/N scoffed out loud at the thought. Walking alone was exactly how she ended up in this ghastly life of an immortal.

She could have escaped, run away, and he’d never be able to catch up, he’d probably be too surprised at how quick she could move. Something niggled at the back of her mind; a distant voice, an echo of who she once was. The ever increasing voice told her to wait for James and see what he wanted to say or ask her.

The desperation in that young girl’s voice gnawed at her insides as she reached her apartment. The young, defenceless girl wanted to claw her way out and take over the undead body. To forget the instincts of a vampire and break the rules set by her kind, ignore the boundaries that she had honed over the last century. That girl wanted to run to James and wrap her arms around him and never let go.

Y/N greeted the porter and advised him of the guest to follow, a knowing smile on the man’s lips as she waited by the elevators. James joined her, his body almost touching her arm as she leant forward to press the call button. The atmosphere felt charged with electricity, a hum deep in their bodies and she could sense the desire dripping off them both. She had seduced him, but she felt like a single brush of his fingers against her skin would ignite her very soul. If she still had one, the jury was still out on that.

Silence filled the ascending elevator. Apart from the hum of the machine, James’ anxious breaths and the surprisingly steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Ding.

Y/N led him through to the penthouse, opening the door to an open plan area consisting of lounge, kitchen, and dining area.It was sophisticated and modern, almost unlived in if it wasn’t for the few homely touches; a blanket thrown over the couch, an extensive vinyl and DVD collections and cooking equipment scattered across the kitchen counters and island.

A pretence for any human that visited unannounced. Even though the visitor wouldn’t remember a thing, Y/N liked the element of surprise, the game of cat and mouse. It was always fun when they realized they had been the mouse all along.

Yet, it wasn’t the contents of her home that James had been drawn to. He walked towards the floor to ceiling windows, taking in the view of Lower Manhattan and the millions of twinkling lights in the distance. She joined him and clasped her hands together, getting lost in the sight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Y/N broke the silence, eyes still focused on the buildings in the distance. “Changed a lot since the forties though hasn’t it?”

“How?” James asked and turned to face her.

“Just to be clear, I did tell you not to follow me and that you’d regret it if you did?”

James nodded with a neutral expression, it was almost believable without Y/N’s abilities to spot the tiny twitch against his right eye and the slight bob in his throat. “As long as you’re not working for Hydra, I think I can handle it.” James crossed his arms over his chest, a slight tone of impatience seeping into his words.

“Very well.” Y/N sighed and walked to the other end of the room and opened the door, “follow me.”

Bucky was impressed by the large bedroom; it rivalled the apartments at the Avengers compound yet there were hardly any personal items; artwork filled the walls, and a few trinkets were atop the furniture. The large windows continued throughout the apartment; the view would be perfect from the bed.

He gulped at the thought of sharing it with Y/N, his heart thumped against his chest while he followed her movements as she lit the candles dotted on the bedside tables and chest of drawers. A warm glow filled the room, and he copied her seated position at the end of the bed and faced her.

Bucky caught her gaze and offered a sweet smile, to reaffirm that he could handle anything that she told him. Maybe this could be an opportunity for him to share his past; his demons and the nightmares that plagued him even while awake. He knew he was getting ahead of himself but with her so close to being in his arms once more, he couldn’t stop the intense spiral of his thoughts.

She’d always been a confidant, until he was experimented on and tortured by Hydra; he knew that conversation was too delicate for him and he was sure it would make her look at him differently. That was why he let her go, he had become a broken man and words couldn’t fix him.

“Okay, here goes.” Y/N's voice stuttered slightly. She glanced down at her hands in her lap before her eyes came back up to meet his.

Burning red eyes stared back at him, the contrast from her previous colour startled him but he didn’t allow his neutral expression to falter. Bucky knew what he had signed up for and she was being honest with him, he couldn’t let his emotions overrule him. The crimson shine of her eyes made him think of Wanda and what she went through at the hands of Strucker; experimented on, abused, and manipulated by Hydra.

Had Y/N gone through the same fate? Bucky frowned; Y/N had already said it wasn’t Hydra. Some other monster. He knew that there were variations of Hydra across the world, but his mind blanked at the potential monsters that lurked in Italy other than the ones he had been tortured by.

“You’re not the first person to give me that look.” Bucky chuckled, hoping to ease the tension that had filled the room, “Wanda. Her eyes change to a similar colour but it’s more of a glow around her eyes.” He clarified, “Well, these, they are still your eyes.” Bucky attempted to reassure her that he wasn’t scared because he wasn’t, he could never be afraid of her.

Y/N face twitched, an almost smile on her lips as she nodded and pulled at the gloves on her hands, “This might hurt a little.”

She placed her hand, palm up, for him to lay his own upon hers. Bucky felt a spine-tingling sensation run over his body, yet it wasn’t from her icy touch but the feel of her soft delicate skin against his calloused hand. The gape of her mouth indicated that she was surprised that he hadn’t pulled away.

“I- You’re so-”

“Hot? Yeah, it’s something that I’ve had since.... Well, y’know.” Bucky shrugged, not moving his palm away from hers and wiggled his Vibranium fingers. “And you’ve already seen this. The metal isn’t exactly the warmest.”

Bucky turned their connected hands over and placed the Vibranium one upon hers. Not a single flinch from her body or pity in her red eyes as his metal fingers cupped their hands together. His heart swelled at how she visibly relaxed, a slight drop in her tense shoulders and an almost imperceptible growth in her smile.

“I’m not scared Y/N. I’ve got all these- these abilities, and by the looks of things, you do too. Show me who you are.” He pleaded, he needed to know but he also wanted her to feel safe, that she could rely on him. Even after everything he said to her that night.

“I know who you are James.” Y/N pulled her hands away and stood in front of him, the candlelight flickering across her face as the curve of a smile bloomed. It was as if he was bewitched by her, once again. “You think you’re fast and strong, but you’ve got nothing on me.”

“Is that a challenge doll?” Bucky smirked, a sense of pride filling his chest as Y/N’s personality began to filter through, the sass he’d been on the receiving end of when they first met in the medical tent all those years ago.

“I could get you on your knees with my little finger before you could even blink.” She smirked back.

“Just say the word and I will be.” The flirting comment had slipped out, and he immediately regretted it as Y/N raised an eyebrow at him. The uncertainty washed away as her laughter rang out through the room.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, sweetheart.” Bucky cooed, he could see the uncertainty in her crimson gaze, “how about an arm wrestle?”

Even before Bucky lifted a millimetre off the mattress, he was pulled and twisted onto his back at the head of the bed, lush pillows against his head with Y/N straddled across his lap.

“Okay, you are fast.” He gulped, a view of her breasts, spilling across the neckline of her dress. His hands glided up her thighs and his fingers curled around her hips. “And strong. No arm wrestle needed.”

Y/N didn’t want to terrify James, she didn’t want him to run away either, but she knew that telling him she was a vampire would be difficult. She couldn’t deal with not knowing how he’d react, of whether she could live her eternal life with ‘what ifs’ any longer.

She’d done her very best to claim him as her own, against the other vampires that had circled him over the last couple of decades; for his abilities as the Winter Soldier, for the serum that pumped in his veins and then there were those that wanted to use him for their own personal desires. Y/N had made sure that nobody could stake ownership of him, and luckily for her, her maker was high up in the council to approve the decision.

Now that he was between her legs, and the feel of his hands as they stroked her through the thin material of her dress, gripping her hips as his groin rutted against her core, a fire burned in the pit of her stomach. She was succumbing to her desires and so was he if the friction of his erection was any indication.

Y/N whispered, “Before this goes, where I think it is, you need to know who I am. What I am.”

James leaned forward, mouth opening but she instantly closed it with her index finger pressed against his plump lips. She shuffled backwards, away from his touch and an attempt to clear her head of the intimate situation, kneeling between his legs.

“James, can you hear my heartbeat?”

He sat up, pulling her into his lap and he placed his head to her bosom, her fingers subconsciously gliding through his hair. Nothing. He’d hear nothing and she knew this would be the moment he’d run. James looked up at her and she heard the stutter in his heart, then a look of confusion across his face.

“It’s probably better if I show you.” Y/N opened her mouth and let the fangs grow, protruding and denting her bottom lip.

She saw the dilation of his pupils and the flash of something that resembled fight or flight across his features. Y/N had prepared for this reaction, had spent the last several weeks thinking about how to handle it. What she hadn’t prepared for was James’ hand snaking up her arm and to the back of her neck, pulling her down to press his lips to hers.

The kiss was delicate, a mixture of nerves and hesitancy, yet it made Y/N’s body sing with pleasure. James pulled away slightly, looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman to roam the Earth.

In an instant, he pulled her back in, a clash of lips, teeth and tongues as the passion grew. Y/N’s hands pulled James’ face closer to hers, she felt every sensation as James’ tongue danced with hers. He loosened his grip on her neck, hands trailing down until they wrapped tightly around her waist, crushing her chest to his.

His hands continued to explore her body whilst her hips ground into his erection, feeling every inch of him through his pants, relishing in the moment while he bunched the skirt of her dress up. A soft whimper fell from Y/N’s lips as he massaged the bare flesh of her thighs.

All thoughts of who he was, who she was and what could happen were forgotten as they collapsed into a tangled mess of limbs; pulling at each other's clothes until they were a naked and breathless between the silky sheets.

A mixture of whimpers and gasps filled the bedroom; bodies intertwined as they both sought pleasure from one another and provided the release of ecstasy. Y/N raised her torso atop James, her nails digging into the warm flesh of his pecs while she chased after her high.

James gripped her hips and rocked up into her at a fierce pace, the delicious friction melting them both as they reached the peak of their orgasms. He wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist, deepening his intrusion as she shuddered around his shaft.

Y/N burrowed her head into his neck, pressing light kisses to his jaw while her fangs remained on display from the ongoing bliss she felt deep within her darkened soul. They grazed against his pulse point.

“I am yours. Forever.” James’ words drifted through the post-orgasmic haze.

If Y/N’s heart still beat, it would have fluttered at his words. Instead, she pressed her lips to his neck once more, feeling a deeper embrace than before.

Everything Tag List: @reann-loves-sebstan / @aroyaldarknessblr / @thefridgeismybestie / @kitkatd7 / @harold231

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers / @musesforart

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes Angst #Bucky Barnes Smut #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction

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fantastic-bby · 3 years

Text

Illuminate The Ocean (Teaser)

Teaser details

Pairing (F)Reader x Seonghwa (Reader doesn't appear in the teaser)

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: Fluff | Pirate!ATEEZ

Summary: Seonghwa absolutely hates the idea of having a new captain on board 'Precious' with him and his crew, but he doesn't have a choice because you had insisted. You have a feeling that he isn't as bad as he makes himself seem and you're proven right through nightmares and colourful jellyfish...

Warnings: -

Publish date of full fic: 6th June

Overall word count: 15.1K

Masterlist

“What?” Seonghwa looks at Hongjoong in confusion, his eyebrows knit together in the middle of his forehead.

“We’re being hired for a mission by another crew. They were in the middle of planning to steal from the royal palace, but their entire crew was injured in a gunfight with another team of pirates.” He grunts as he drops the box onto the ground and starts looking through the unopened envelopes on his desk. “The problem is that they’re asking that we pick their captain up from the southern port and let her join us on the mission.”

“Why in the world would they need their captain to follow?” he scoffs. “We already have one captain—we don’t need another one.”

“I know. That’s exactly what I told them,” Hongjoong mutters. The displeasure is plainly written on his face because he feels like he’s being underestimated. “I told them that she’s allowed to join and that I’ll have someone who will make sure she knows her way around.” He looks up at Seonghwa and crosses his arms over his chest.

Sensing the tone, Seonghwa’s eyes widen and he immediately shakes his head. “No, no, I refuse.”

“Come on, Hwa, you haven’t even heard it yet.”

“You have that twisted look on your face. I’m not going to be her little guide.” The pirate shakes his head adamantly, arms raising in the air. He should’ve known that Hongjoong would trust him to keep the other captain in check.

“You’re my right hand man, who else would I ask?” Hongjoong snorts a laugh. “What? You think that San and Wooyoung can keep their eyes on her? Those two have the same sex drive as a bunch of rabbits. They see a pretty lady and it’s straight up like a fucking mast. Lord forbid we get Mingi and Yunho to watch her. They wouldn’t even say yes in the first place because they’d end up tripping and dragging her off of the ship with them.”

“What about Yeosang?” Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. “He’s decent.”

“He would say something that’ll make her kill all of us,” he absentmindedly says as he slides a knife along the top of one of the brown envelopes, pulling the letter out and reading through it.

“Jongho! He’s your favourite! He’d do a good job!” His hands clasped together in front of him and Seonghwa’s about ready to just drop to the ground and start begging on his knees, but Hongjoong’s too occupied with reading the letter to actually give his crewmate any mind . “Joong, as much as I love being your favourite member, I really don’t want to be in charge of another captain. I already have to take care of you and make sure you don’t accidentally shoot yourself with your own gun.”

“Hey!” Hongjoong scoffs. “That was one time. This isn’t up for discussion, Seonghwa. You have to bring her around the ship and make sure that she’s familiar with Precious.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting this happen,” Seonghwa clicks his tongue in annoyance. Hongjoong’s hand suddenly comes slamming down onto the table, the loud sound making the older man jump in surprise.

“Do you think that I would’ve willingly let this happen?!” he snaps. “I wholeheartedly believe that our crew can do this on our own, but conditions are conditions and this mission is worth a lot. Now, shut your yapping and go make sure the damn ship is heading in the right direction while I read this.” Hongjoong gives him one last stern look before sitting down and lifting the glasses that hang around his neck to his eyes.

Seonghwa exhales sharply before leaving his quarters. His black boots are loud against the wood of the pirate ship and he makes his way over to the main mast where he stares out at the gently moving ocean. The breeze is gentle as he brushes past him, but it’s strong enough that it picks up his white coat. There’s the familiar sound of footsteps landing onto the desk and Seonghwa turns around to see the tallest pair of the crew behind him.

“Hey, hyung!” Yunho chirps when he sees the eldest crew member.

“Why the long face?” Mingi questions when he sees the annoyed look on Seonghwa’s face.

“We have to work with another captain and I’m the one that’ll have to bring her around,” he huffs.

“Ooh, sounds fun! New people are fun!” Yunho excitedly says, earning a tired look from Seonghwa.

“It’s… you know what? Never mind,” he sighs. “How long until we reach the mainland?”

“By Yeosang’s calculations, we should reach the port by the end of the week. The skies look angry today, hyung. Chance of a storm.” Mingi pulls a compass out of his pocket, his finger tapping on the glass of it when it doesn’t move. Everyone on the ship thinks he should really get a new one to stop them from getting lost, but the pirate is insistent on keeping this one until he can’t use it at all. “I was in contact with the Stray Kids crew and Seungmin says that they’ve just gotten caught in a storm. He asks that we either wait it out until they give us the signal to go or to brace through the storm.”

“Are they heading to the same port?”

Mingi nods, “they just finished an assassination in the West. They’re not too far ahead from us, but far enough that they’re able to give us a heads up on whatever they see.” Seonghwa nods as he faces South, noting how the clouds seem slightly darker along the horizon. He turns back around to look at the tall pair.

“I’ve adjusted the sails to handle any kind of strong weather just in case it comes before we anticipate,” Yunho says.

“Thanks,” Seonghwa mutters. “Anything else that needs to be relayed to Hongjoong?”

“Nothing at the moment.” They both shake their heads in unison. “I’ll stay in contact with Seungmin to see if anything comes up,” Mingi says. Seonghwa nods at that.

“Thanks, guys.” He turns around and makes his way across the ship to the forecastle where Yeosang’s sitting cross-legged on the deck with various books surrounding him. He stares at the sky before scribbling something down onto the leather case notebook in his lap. Wooyoung and San are scurrying around the place as he gives them orders and Seonghwa watches in amusement as they do. Yeosang pauses in the middle of writing and he looks up to see Seonghwa standing at the top of the wooden steps.

“Oh, hey hyung,” he waves. There’s a sextant sitting beside him along with a handful of other navigational tools.

“Busy?” Seonghwa teases at the way Yeosang’s sitting. The wind picks up and blows his curly black hair out of his face when he looks out at the horizon.

“Hold that thought,” Yeosang raises a finger as he stands up and turns to San. “Get the anemometer!” San stares at him.

“The what?!”

“The thing that spins in the wind!” he groans.

“Oh! Oh! Okay!” San almost jumps out of his spot and rushes down the stairs of the forecastle desk and towards the main deck. Yeosang turns to Wooyoung who’s having a leisurely time with his eyes closed, letting the wind blow past him.

“Wooyoung, go help San and make sure he grabs the right thing.” The crewmate’s eyes snap open and he turns to nod at Yeosang before chasing after his friend.

“Do they even remember which one the anemometer is?” Seonghwa jokes, making Yeosang chuckle softly as he picks up the sextant.

“That’s why I call it ‘The thing that spins in the wind’,” he hums just as the pair returns with the anemometer in their hands. Yeosang takes the device from them and perches it on the platform of the wooden rail, staring at it as it starts spinning. The number at the bottom slowly starts turning until it’s spinning as rapidly as the hemispherical cups. Once the wind’s calm down, Yeosang jots it down into his book before turning to Seonghwa with a sigh. “It’s about the same readings that Mingi said Seungmin had gotten. We should be facing a storm pretty soon.” He looks out at the darkening clouds, dreading the way they seemed to only get darker the closer they were to the horizon.

“Where’s Jongho?” Seonghwa asks.

“He said he was checking on the canons to make sure they were working properly,” Wooyoung speaks, “last I saw him was in the gunport.”

“Shouldn’t you be there with him?” His arms crossed over his chest as he quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeosang said he needed help with the weather and Jongho said he had everything under control,” he shrugs.

“Sorry about that, hyung,” Yeosang turns to face Seonghwa. “It’s easier for me to work when I don’t have to leave the forecastle to grab my instruments if I need them.”

“It’s fine. I’m gonna go check on him.”

“Alright,” he waves as Seonghwa leaves, turning back to check on his instruments. Seonghwa climbs down the wooden stairs and towards the hatch right next to the stairs, lifting the hatch open before he climbs down the ladders until he’s in the ship’s hold. He looks around the empty storage area and walks towards the gunport where Jongho’s carrying around some of the crates.

“Wooyoung mentioned that you were loading the canons,” he says, making the youngest crewmate whip around to look at him.

“Oh, yeah, just finished,” Jongho nods as he stacks the crate in his arms right onto another. “The canons are working fine. Sannie hyung gave them an inspection since we had to use them yesterday. We’re almost out of gunpowder, but that should be fine since we only have another week until we get home.”

“We can stock up then,” Seonghwa nods. “Is there anything else that needs to be done?”

“Not in the hold,” he shakes his head. “Is there any news on the mission Hongjoong hyung said that we’ll be doing?”

“I have to watch their captain because they want her to follow us,” he mutters.

“Yikes,” Jongho’s face contorts in a cringe. “You don’t like new people,” he points out. Seonghwa’s eyes narrow and Jongho purses his lips. “You obviously already know that. So what are you going to do?”

“There’s nothing I can do,” he sighs. “Hongjoong said it’s not up for discussion because I’m the only one that won’t scare her off or won’t make her want to shoot all of us.”

“That’s good, though,” he claims. “I mean, hyung, doesn’t that mean that you’re the one Hongjoong hyung trusts the most? I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Could be,” Seonghwa mutters. As much as he hates to admit it, he knows that he’s the most responsible of all of them. The others are more likely to get distracted whenever they see a pod of dolphins on their journey, which is funny to Seonghwa because they see dolphins every other day with how they pretty much live on their ship. “I just don’t understand why they need another captain with us.”

“Didn’t they say that they failed to do the mission in the first place? That would mean that they already got halfway through before their crew got injured. Which also means that their captain already has a lot of information that would be useful to us.” Jongho does make sense. Seonghwa stares at him while in thought, his lips slightly jut out as he does. Maybe having the captain staying with them for a while might not be so bad.

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