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brookghaib-blog · 1 month ago

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The ghost I left behind- III

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Note: I kinda wanted to make this more of a filler chapter, because I didn't want to write the whole movie when it doesn't really make sense for this idea, I promise you a more fullfilling chapter next, and the emotions and action will be there!

Word count: 6.3k

Chapter II, IV

O.X.E Research Lab. - Malaysia

The hum of fluorescent lights was constant — like static pressed against Bob’s skull. The air was cold, colder than it should’ve been for a place buried under the jungle. Concrete walls closed in around him like a tomb.

He sat alone on the cot in the corner of his cell — no, not a cell, they called it a room. White-walled, sterile, like something out of a hospital, only there was no comfort here. Just observation windows and cameras that never blinked. On the wall across from him, a single metal shelf held the only thing they’d let him keep — a small, worn photograph of Y/N, curled slightly at the corners. She was smiling in the picture, standing barefoot in their kitchen, holding a mug of coffee. Her hair was messy, her eyes tired but warm.

Bob stared at that picture like it was oxygen.

He hadn’t seen her in months. He hadn’t heard her voice, hadn’t felt her hand on his back when the nightmares got bad. But he remembered everything — the sound of her laugh when she teased him about the chicken suit, the way she’d breathe when she fell asleep next to him. The feel of her lips against his shoulder. The way she’d told him she was pregnant — shaking, terrified, and hopeful all at once.

He remembered what he’d said to her that night.

“I’ll get clean. I’ll be better. I want to be the kind of man our kid looks up to.”

And then he left.

He hadn’t told her. Hadn’t said goodbye. He boarded a plane with a one-way ticket and a pocket full of cash he’d scraped together, believing that leaving would present her with a greater good. They promised change. Power. Control. All the things he’d never had. All the things he thought he needed to deserve her.

And now?

Now the power was eating him alive.

The door to the room opened with a hiss. Two armed guards stepped aside as Dr. Lenhart entered, clipboard in hand, eyes cold behind her glasses.

“Subject 44. The team is ready.”

Bob didn’t look at her. His fingers grazed the edge of the photograph once more before standing. He didn’t resist as the guards strapped a control collar around his neck and led him down the corridor.

The room he entered was massive. Sterile. Circular. Glass walls separated the observation deck from the inner chamber. Bob stood in the center, machines humming to life around him, sensors pulsing against his skin.

“Begin neurological synchronization,” a voice echoed overhead.

Bob closed his eyes.

At first, there was silence.

Then came the whispering.

Not in words — not exactly — but in feelings. Rage. Hunger. Emptiness.

He clenched his fists, his breath growing erratic. The air around him shimmered, warped. Lights above flickered, then dimmed to nothing. A black mist seeped from beneath his feet like smoke rising in reverse.

“Restrain output—he’s losing control!” came a panicked voice behind the glass.

But it was too late.

The shadow lashed out like lightning — instinctive, desperate, alive. It slammed against the walls, shrieking with a sound that wasn’t made by any throat. Two technicians in hazmat suits tried to flee, but the black tendrils struck faster than thought. One hit the floor, his body shriveling in seconds. The other screamed — then there was only silence.

And in the middle of it all stood Bob, hovering inches above the ground, his eyes pitch-black, veins glowing faint blue beneath his skin.

Then — darkness.

Bob woke up on the floor, shivering.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours?

He pulled himself to his knees, the collar around his neck heavy like guilt. His head pounded, his limbs ached, but worse was the silence in his mind — not peace, but absence. Like something had used him, then left.

He looked up and saw the bloodstains. The security footage, replaying silently through the tinted glass window. Two lives lost. His hands.

“No,” he whispered, scrambling back, pressing his back to the wall.

His breath hitched as he fumbled for the shelf — for the photo.

There she was.

Still smiling. Still beautiful.

Still waiting.

“I didn’t mean to…” His voice cracked. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this, Y/N. I just wanted to be enough.”

He buried his face in his hands, shaking.

“I miss you,” he whispered into the silence.

A sob broke loose. He clutched the photo against his chest like it could stitch his soul back together.

“I’m trying to fix this. I swear I’m trying. I just… I thought that I would be dead by now.”

No answer. Only the sound of the distant hum of machines and the slow drip of water somewhere in the corner of the room.

He leaned his head back against the cold wall, eyes glassy, voice no louder than a prayer.

“Please… wait for me.”

2 months after

The corridor had no way out, and the new team was looking for an exit, Bob just stays put.

“Bob,” Yelena snaps over her shoulder, pausing. “You’re falling behind.”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are hollow, shoulders hunched under the weight of guilt and grief. The ground beneath them trembles—security drones are drawing near.

“I'll stay” he finally says, voice like crushed gravel. “I’ll just slow you down. It's better for everyone if a just...stay put.”

Yelena walks back toward him. “No, Bob, if you stay you will die.”

“Well it's...whatever” he breathes out. His jaw is tight, his fists clenched. “I don't deserve people saving me, I'm just being a burden to you guys, it's ok, go.”

Yelena’s expression softens, barely perceptible beneath her hardened demeanor. She steps closer.

“Hey, hey, wow, ok, I get it, we all have a void inside of us, we all feel like shit, and alone, but don't let that consume you, you are someone. You just have to control it.”

Bob doesn’t answer. His jaw trembles.

“What do you do to control it?”

Yelena gives him a small smile. "You push it down, like down, you push it."

Walker turns, a huge hole he punched in the wall. “Hey! If the therapy session is over, we have to go.”

She walks ahead without waiting for a response.

He starts walking behind her.

Back in New York

Across from her, Mr. Cooper grunted as he settled onto the floor with a sigh of relief, one leg stretched out, the other bent to cradle his back.

Sunlight poured through the open windows, warming the small apartment with its soft, golden glow. The living room was a mess of wooden planks, screws, and folded instructions spread across the floor like a chaotic puzzle. In the center of it all, Y/N sat cross-legged, squinting at the manual with a furrowed brow and a pencil tucked behind her ear, like that somehow made her more capable of interpreting the impossible hieroglyphs IKEA had decided passed for “assembly instructions.”

“I think I pulled something just by looking at that Allen wrench,” he muttered, rubbing his hip.

Y/N giggled softly, setting down the manual. Her belly, now visibly showing as she reached five months, shifted with the movement, and she instinctively rested her hand on it. “We’re not even halfway done. Are you telling me you’re tapping out already?”

“I’m old, sweetheart,” he said with a gruff smile. “I tap out every time the weather drops below seventy.”

She shook her head with a grin and leaned over to pick up a wooden side panel of the crib. It was pale honey-colored oak, sanded smooth, gentle with age. It had once belonged to Cooper’s granddaughter, and now it would belong to her baby.

“You really didn’t have to give me this,” she said, her voice softening.

“Yes, I did,” he replied without missing a beat. “No child deserves to sleep in one of those plastic nightmares. And no mother should go through this alone.”

That word — mother — still settled strangely on her shoulders. Like a coat she was trying on, not quite fitted yet.

She glanced at him, her smile more subdued now, thoughtful. “Thank you.”

He waved it off, leaning back against the wall. “Enough of that. Tell me how the new job’s going. Still wrangling tiny lunatics all day?”

Y/N laughed, genuinely this time, the sound echoing off the walls of the small room. “Yeah. It’s chaos, but kind of... perfect chaos. I mostly work with toddlers. I feed them, change them, read stories. Try to keep them from painting on the walls or eating glue. It’s exhausting sometimes, but... I really love it.”

Cooper watched her closely as she spoke, the weariness on her face dulled slightly by something new—something lighter. Peace, maybe. Or the distant shape of it.

She picked up a small wooden bar and held it like a sword. “Today one of them tried to put mashed peas in my shoes. Another fell asleep on my lap mid-story and started snoring like a little old man. And during snack time, this one girl kept hugging my belly like she knew. Like she knew, you know?”

Her voice softened. “And every day I’m there, I realize more and more... I want this. I want to do all those things with my baby. The feeding, the stories, the naps. I want to see them take their first steps. Hear their first words. I don’t want to miss that.”

She paused, tears stinging lightly at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could fall. “I stopped looking for couples. I think I knew deep down I couldn’t go through with it. I was just scared... not of the baby. Of doing it alone.”

Mr. Cooper didn’t speak right away. He reached over and gently patted her hand. His weathered fingers were rough but warm.

“You’ve been through hell and back, Y/N. And you’re still here. That baby’s lucky already.”

She gave a teary smile. “Sometimes I still hope he’ll come back. That Bobby will just... walk through the door one day, stupid grin on his face like nothing happened.”

“That kind of love,” Cooper said, after a long moment, “is the kind people go their whole lives never finding. But love’s only half the battle. Raising a child, choosing to stay... that’s the rest. That’s the hard part.”

Y/N nodded, looking down at the crib pieces. Her fingers grazed over the smooth wood, the future taking shape beneath her hands. She felt a soft flutter inside her, the baby moving, stretching gently like they knew she was talking about them.

“I just want to give them a better start,” she whispered. “Better than what I had.”

“You already are,” Cooper said.

They sat in quiet for a while, sunlight casting long shadows on the floor. The crib still unfinished, the future still uncertain—but for the first time in a long while, the air felt different.

A thought crossed her mind. "You think he's okay Mr. Cooper?"

He looked at her, a sad smile in his face, "I hope so sweetheart, I really do."

Bob was indeed not okay

The room was colder than he remembered.

There were no windows. No clocks. No reflections. Only the hum of warm orange lights above. He was laying on a bed, rather confortable if he's allowed to say.

The door creaked open, slow and theatrical, and in walked Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, a ghost in high heels and silk. She didn't sit immediately. She liked to hover, to stalk, her movements measured and deliberate.

“Hi Bob! How are you? <Are you confortable?” she said casually, as if they were old friends catching up over coffee.

Bob didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, but he kept his eyes on the floor. The room felt like a trap, but he was too tired to pretend he wasn’t already caught.

“I imagine you’re wondering why you’re still alive,” she continued, circling him. “I thought you were another failure, turns out here you are.”

His breath hitched. “Where am I?”

“Home, for now” she said sweetly.

She finally took the seat across from him, folding her arms on the table like a therapist in disguise.

“You’re a miracle, Bob. My miracle. A walking success story. Do you know how many billions were poured into the O.X.E. Project before we got it right? You’re the first. You’re what we’ve been trying to make for years. You’re the product of patience. Genius. Sacrifice.”

“Don’t,” he muttered.

Valentina’s voice sharpened. “I’m not here to coddle you. I’m here to offer you purpose.”

“You signed up for a medical study, which was, as advertised, at the cutting edge of human improvement. But not everybody could handle the amount of greatness that we had in mind—”

His gaze flickered up to her, hazy and wet. “You used me.”

“We made you,” she snapped, then caught herself, letting the corners of her mouth twitch back into a smile. “And you’re more than even you realize. You just need someone who believes in you. Someone who knows what you’re capable of.”

Bob swallowed, teeth gritted. “Where's Yelena ?..., they’re good people. They don’t deserve whatever you’re planning.”

Valentina tilted her head. “They’re weapons, Bob. Trained killers. Criminals really. You think they’ll stop if I tell them to go after someone? You think they won’t? That’s the kind of world you’re in. And that’s the kind of world she’s in, too.”

She slid a photograph across the table.

His heart stopped.

It was her.

The same photo he almost forgot he had on his room in the facility he went to for the experiment.

Bob reached for the photo like it might disappear if he blinked. His fingers trembled as they hovered over it, then finally closed around the edge.

“She’s okay,” Valentina said, almost kindly. “Five months now. Still looking for you. Still crying over you. Still believing in you. Kinda of a bummer that she's alone isn't it?”

A tear slipped down Bob’s cheek as he stared at the image. “I never wanted to leave her. I—I thought if I got better, if I could just fix myself, I could come back. I wanted to come back.”

Valentina leaned in, voice low. “You can.”

He looked up at her. "Where is she? How did you find her?"

“I know a lot about you. I know about your mom’s mental illness, I know about your addiction,your fathe. But does that matter? You can come back stronger. Better. As someone who can protect her. Provide for her. Be a real father. A real partner. But you have to work for me, Bob. You have to give me loyalty. Just a little time. Just a few assignments. And then, I promise—on my name—she’s yours again.”

Bob shook his head slowly, horror creeping in. “You’re threatening her.”

“I’m protecting her,” Valentina said calmly. “From you. From the others. From this world that doesn’t care who she is or what she’s been through. You want to keep her safe? You work with me. You do what I say. Because if you don’t... there are people out there who won’t hesitate to use her against you.”

Bob’s hand clenched around the photo, crumpling the edge.

“You don’t understand my love,” he said, voice cracking.

“I don’t have to,” she replied. “But I can use it.”

He looked at her then, really looked. The truth was a blade in his chest. He was powerful, but powerless. Strong enough to rip holes in the sky, but too broken to say no.

“She’ll hate me.” he whispered.

Valentina stood, brushing invisible dust from her lapel. “Maybe. But hate is a lot like love, Bob. It sticks. It burns. It means you still matter.”

She walked to the door, heels clicking.

“I'll be back when you're feeling better, it's your best interest to control yourself and all your powers.”

The door closed behind her with a final click.

And Bob sat there in silence, holding the photo of the only person who ever saw him as more than his darkness.

His fingers trembled as he whispered her name.

“How did I ended up here baby...”

Y/N's pov

The lights were dimmed in the small examination room, a soft hum of fluorescent bulbs vibrating overhead. Y/N lay back on the cold, paper-covered chair, the crinkling noise far too loud in the silence. Her shirt was rolled up, exposing the gentle curve of her belly. She was twenty weeks now, and this was her first real appointment.

She hadn't meant to wait this long, but money and despair had a cruel way of making even basic things feel unreachable. If it hadn’t been for Mr. Cooper, gently reminding her, pushing through her deflection, she might’ve kept pushing it off until she gave birth alone.

The doctor entered with a warm smile, her presence calm and kind, a middle-aged woman with soft eyes and a practiced touch.

"Hi, sweetheart. I’m Dr. Hale. Let’s have a look at this little one, okay?"

Y/N nodded, her throat too tight for words. She tucked her hair behind her ear and tried to relax. She hated that her hands trembled.

Dr. Hale squirted the cold gel onto her stomach, and Y/N winced. "Sorry about the chill. It’ll warm up in just a second," the doctor said, already moving the wand across her skin.

The screen flickered to life beside her. Grainy black-and-white shapes slowly came into focus — shifting, fluttering motion, something alive. Her baby.

Y/N stared. She forgot to breathe.

"There we are," Dr. Hale whispered, smiling at the screen. "Look at that heartbeat. Strong little one, isn’t he?"

Y/N blinked. “He?”

"It’s a boy," Dr. Hale said gently. “Congratulations, mama.”

Y/N’s mouth opened but no sound came out. Her eyes welled up fast, tears rising before she had time to prepare for them. Her lips trembled and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, the other resting gently over her belly.

A boy. She was having a son.

“He’s measuring well, right on time,” the doctor continued, her voice soft, respectful of the emotion clouding the room. “You’ve done a good job, keeping him strong.”

But Y/N was crying now — quiet, broken sobs — as she stared at the screen. Her baby. Bobby’s baby. And she was seeing him for the first time. A little fluttering shape that would one day have Bobby’s eyes. Maybe even his shy smile.

Dr. Hale handed her a tissue. “It’s okay. First appointments can be overwhelming.”

Y/N laughed softly through the tears, nodding. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

“Your partner must be so happy too,” the doctor added casually, glancing at the monitor. “First-time dads are always in awe during these appointments.”

Y/N’s face froze. She didn’t correct her. She just offered a small, practiced smile. “He is. He… just couldn’t be here today. But he..he's really happy.”

Dr. Hale nodded, not pressing. “Well, this little boy is lucky. You clearly love him very much.”

Y/N looked back to the screen, to the blurry shape moving softly on it, and swallowed hard. Her fingers tightened around the paper sheet beneath her.

“He’s everything.” she whispered.

2 years ago

The scent of warm fries lingered in the car, mingling with the soft hum of the engine and the quiet tune playing from the radio—something 90s, something nostalgic. Rain tapped gently on the windshield, coating the windows in glistening beads that shimmered under the glow of the streetlight outside the McDonald’s parking lot. The inside of her old sedan was cozy and dim, fogging slightly from their breath and the comfort of shared laughter.

Bob was in the passenger seat, slightly turned toward her, his long legs awkwardly folded into the too-small space. A crumpled paper bag sat between them, half-spilled fries poking out. He held a burger in both hands, but he hadn’t taken a bite in at least a minute—too caught up in the way she was telling her story, animated and full of wild hand gestures, her eyes lit with mischief.

“No, no, wait,” Y/N laughed, nearly choking on her own drink as she swatted his arm. “You have to picture it—this man, right? Full suit. Hair greased back like he’s somebody’s boss. He’s barking at me because his order had pickles when he said no pickles—like it was a personal betrayal. So I’m standing there, biting my tongue, trying not to say ‘Sir, I don’t make the sandwiches, I’m just handing them to you.’”

Bob chuckled, already smiling because he could hear how this story ended. “And then?”

She grinned, pausing for dramatic effect, fries in hand like a microphone.

“He turns too fast, slips on his own spilled soda, and I swear to God, it was like a slow-motion movie scene. Both arms flail, legs go out, and bam—on his ass. The sandwich goes flying. The drink lands on his lap. And everyone just… stares.”

Bob was wheezing, struggling not to spit his drink out. “You’re lying.”

“I swear,” she said, holding up two fingers in mock oath. “The ketchup packet even exploded. Right on his white shirt. Like something out of a damn Tarantino film.”

They both laughed so hard it hurt, leaning toward each other in the cramped space of the car. Bob wiped a tear from his eye and looked at her, still giggling with her hand pressed to her chest, eyes watery from the laughter.

He couldn’t stop looking at her.

He’d never met anyone like her before—someone so unapologetically alive. She wasn’t like the people from his past, people who only spoke in hushed tones and looked at him like he might break. She was loud and kind and brilliant and chaotic in the most mesmerizing way. And somehow, for reasons he still didn’t understand, she liked him.

Y/N caught him staring, mid-fry. She tilted her head. “What?”

Bob blinked, startled. “Nothing. You’re just…”

“What?”

He gave a shy shrug, reaching down for the last fry in the bag. “You’re just…funny.”

“Funny?” she repeated with a smirk. “That’s it?”

“And cool,” he added quickly. “And smart. And, uh—” he hesitated. “Your storytelling is…top-tier.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully and leaned back in her seat. “You’re weird, Bob.”

He smiled at the dashboard, face warming. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”

She nudged his arm with hers, shoulder to shoulder. The warmth of her touch buzzed through him. “Wanna come back to my place?”

His eyes snapped to hers.

“I mean,” she added, lifting an eyebrow. “We could watch something. A movie or whatever.”

Bob turned red instantly, so red it almost glowed through his hoodie. “Uh…”

“Oh my God,” she laughed, leaning toward him with her lips curled in amusement. “What were you thinking I meant?”

“N-Nothing!” he stammered, though his voice cracked. “Just—just a movie. Yep.”

She tilted her head and smiled wider, teasing. “You totally thought I was seducing you.”

“No, I didn’t!” he said, his voice too high, too defensive.

“You absolutely did.” She laughed again, softer this time. “I could see it in your eyes. You went all deer-in-headlights, Bobby.”

He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean… It’s our third date…”

“And we haven’t even kissed,” she said, more gently this time. She was looking at him, really looking. “That’s okay, you know.”

Bob nodded slowly, still not meeting her eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

The car grew quiet for a moment. The kind of quiet that wasn’t awkward—just full of unspoken things. The rain was heavier now, soft and steady, a lullaby on the roof.

Then Y/N leaned over slightly, not enough to make it too serious, just enough that her shoulder brushed his again. “So… you wanna come over or not?”

He turned toward her again, finally smiling that crooked, shy smile of his. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

She winked and started the car.

Y/N unlocked the door with one hand and flicked on the hallway light with the other, her apartment filling with a warm, amber glow. It was a small space—cozy more than cramped, cluttered with personal touches: a stack of books that lived on the coffee table, mismatched throw pillows that had clearly been collected over time, a framed Polaroid of her and some friends stuck to the fridge with a glittery magnet shaped like a donut. It smelled faintly like vanilla and old incense.

“Home sweet home,” she said, kicking off her sneakers and tossing her keys into a little ceramic bowl by the door.

Bob stepped in behind her, moving like he didn’t want to disturb the air. His eyes flicked around the space, taking in everything, silently noting how her this place felt. It was lived in. Warm. Safe.

“Nice,” he said with a shy smile. “It’s… you.”

She grinned. “That better not be your way of calling it messy.”

“Messy’s charming,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, uh… where’s the TV?”

She pointed to the living room. “Couch is yours. I’ll get the snacks. No movie night without popcorn, it’s illegal.”

Bob shuffled into the living room and plopped onto the couch, sinking slightly into the cushions. A large fuzzy blanket was already thrown over one armrest, and the TV remote rested on the other, just waiting for someone to grab it. He picked it up and started scrolling through her cable channels—no Netflix login anywhere in sight.

From the kitchen, she called out, “Don’t bother looking for Netflix, by the way. I refuse to pay for it on principle.”

Bob blinked. “Wait, what principle?”

“The principle that I already pay for internet, rent, utilities, and my crippling caffeine addiction. Something’s gotta give.”

He laughed, glancing toward the kitchen where she was pouring kernels into an old stovetop popper like a professional. “So, no Netflix. What are our options then?”

She popped her head out from behind the doorframe, holding up a giant metal bowl with flair. “Cable roulette, baby. Let the gods decide.”

Bob chuckled as he continued to flip through. A couple of random sitcoms, a rerun of a baking competition, something that looked like a low-budget horror movie.

Then he paused.

“Oh—this one,” he said, perking up. “It’s just starting.”

It was one of those timeless adventure films—part comedy, part heart, with a little magic thrown in. The kind of movie people quote years later like it shaped their childhoods.

She returned a minute later, carrying the giant bowl of buttery, still-warm popcorn, and proudly presented it to him.

“Tada.”

Bob looked up at her, eyes soft. “Is it bad that all your surprises are food-related?”

She gave him an offended gasp. “Food is a great love language.”

He took a handful of popcorn and grinned. “I’m just saying—at this rate, our next date’s gonna have to be a jog.”

“You calling me out on my snack habits, Reynolds?”

“Just looking out for future me,” he joked. “Don’t want to get fat and slow while trying to impress you.”

They both laughed as she curled up beside him on the couch, pulling the blanket over their legs without even asking. She sat close, the bowl between them, legs pressed lightly against his. He tried not to think about how good that felt—how even the slightest brush of her thigh against his sent a heat curling into his chest.

The movie played on, and they made the occasional sarcastic comment under their breath, snickering over cheesy dialogue or pointing out ridiculous plot holes. Bob tried to focus on the screen, but every so often, his eyes drifted to her. The flicker of the TV cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the way her mouth twitched when she was trying not to smile. She didn’t know she did that. He found it endlessly fascinating.

And then, their knees bumped again—just slightly—and she turned her head, catching him.

He froze, mid-popcorn bite, like a raccoon in a trash can caught with a flashlight.

She raised an eyebrow. “Something you like ?”

He flushed instantly, face going pink. “Wasn’t— I wasn’t—”

“I’m gorgeous, I know,” she said with a grin, bumping his leg. “You’re so lucky.”

He let out a small, bashful laugh, looking down at his lap, embarrassed beyond belief.

But then, she shifted.

Her teasing smile softened into something quieter. She reached out, gently brushing her hand against his arm, and leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder, then slowly, against his chest. She tucked herself under his arm like she belonged there, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I really do like you, Bobby,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Like, a lot.”

Bob didn’t breathe for a second. He just stared down at the top of her head, her hair catching the light. He felt her heartbeat, steady and close, against his ribs.

And he knew.

He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, letting himself melt into the moment he didn’t think he’d ever deserve.

“Guess I was the one who got the lottery ticket in the end,” he whispered.

The soft flicker of the television still lit the room, casting warm shadows over the now half-empty popcorn bowl that had long gone cold on the coffee table. The movie had played on quietly in the background, its third act slowly winding into an emotional crescendo neither of them saw coming—because somewhere between one of her whispered jokes and his quiet chuckles, they had both drifted off to sleep.

Y/N stirred first.

A sudden loud crash from the film’s climax jolted her upright, eyes wide and heart pounding. She blinked a few times, trying to process where she was. The room was dim now, just the blue glow from the credits rolling across the screen. Bob, still curled up beside her with his head resting slightly back against the couch cushion, blinked awake seconds later, startled.

“Wha—what happened?” he mumbled groggily, sitting up, his voice rough with sleep. “Did something explode?”

Y/N grabbed her phone from the armrest and squinted at the screen, the harsh light making her wince. “Shit—it’s past 1 a.m.”

Bob straightened up quickly, suddenly aware of the late hour. “1 a.m.?” he echoed, rubbing at his face with both hands before reaching for his jacket on the couch arm. “I should get going then. Damn, I didn’t mean to pass out.”

She sat up beside him, still blinking the sleep from her eyes. “Wait—are you seriously going to walk home right now?”

He was already halfway standing, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I mean... yeah? I live like forty minutes away, but it’s not that bad—”

“Bob,” she said, more firmly now, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “It’s freezing outside, it’s stupid late, and you’re literally half-asleep. I’m not letting you walk home like that. Stay.”

He looked at her, hesitating, his hand resting awkwardly on the back of his neck.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice softer now, uncertain. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” she said without missing a beat. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want you to.”

He opened his mouth to protest again, but she was already grabbing the blanket from the couch.

“You can take the bed,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s comfier. I’ll grab some blankets and crash here.”

Bob's eyebrows shot up. “Wait—what? No, no way. You’re not giving up your bed for me.”

“Bob—”

“I’ll take the couch. Seriously. You already cooked the popcorn and laughed at all my dumb jokes. I’m not about to kick you out of your own bed.”

Y/N stopped mid-step, holding a pillow against her chest.

She looked at him, a little sheepish now, something almost shy in the way she bit her lip.

“Well…” she started slowly, “the couch isn’t exactly five-star hotel material. Springs kinda poke you if you sit the wrong way.”

Bob blinked.

She hesitated, clearly fighting her own nervousness, and then said it:

“We could just… share the bed?”

Bob froze.

It wasn’t a suggestive offer—it was soft, hesitant, spoken with a touch of nervous laughter that told him she wasn’t trying to rush anything or make it weird. Her cheeks were pink, and she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I mean,” she continued quickly, “we could do the whole back-to-back thing, or throw a pillow wall in the middle. Just sleep. It’s really not that big of a deal, right?”

He could feel the heat rising in his face, all the way to the tips of his ears.

“I—uh…” He swallowed hard. “Yeah. Okay. That makes sense.”

She looked up at him now, really looked at him, and smiled—gentle, reassuring.

“We’re comfortable with each other, right?”

Bob nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

A few minutes later, they were both in her bedroom.

It was small and soft, the kind of room that smelled like lavender detergent and something warm and feminine. There were string lights hanging above the bed, giving off a golden glow, and the sheets were already turned down from earlier.

Y/N had quickly slipped into a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt in her bathroom, her hair tied up messily. Bob stood at the edge of the bed looking impossibly awkward, holding a folded blanket in his arms like it was a shield.

“I promise not to snore,” she teased lightly, climbing into her side of the bed and fluffing her pillow.

“I make no promises,” he mumbled, still blushing, as he awkwardly lowered himself onto the other side of the bed, fully clothed, stiff as a board.

They lay there for a moment in silence.

Then she turned to him slightly. “You okay?”

He exhaled. “Yeah. Just, you know… never done this before. Like this. Not with someone who—” he paused, “—who makes it feel like something more.”

She smiled faintly, turning her face toward him in the dark.

“Good. Me neither.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other—barely visible under the soft fairy lights, but everything was clear in their expressions. They were still new, still learning, but something about it already felt like home.

Bob shifted slightly, adjusting to face her fully. His arm folded beneath his head, and hers rested lightly on her pillow, fingers curled near her chin.

“That movie sucked,” Y/N whispered with a grin.

Bob laughed under his breath. “You were the one who picked it.”

“Excuse you, you said it looked ‘promising.’ I distinctly remember that.”

“Only because the poster had, like, three explosions and a dramatic tagline,” he teased.

She snorted. “Yeah, and it delivered… exactly none of that.”

They giggled together quietly, their voices softened by the late hour and the closeness of the room.

Bob let the laughter fade into a quieter breath, and for a beat, he just watched her.

She noticed.

“What?” she asked softly, her lips curving gently.

He hesitated, visibly battling the nerves crawling under his skin. His fingers twitched slightly on the sheets between them.

“I…” he started, voice quiet but sincere, “Can I kiss you?”

Her breath caught slightly, a small smile forming — but not a teasing one this time. It was soft, touched with warmth and surprise.

“Yes,” she said, her voice just as quiet. “Yeah. Please.”

He moved closer, slow like he was approaching something sacred. Their noses brushed, and he hesitated one last second—then kissed her.

It was gentle. Soft. The kind of first kiss that made the world feel like it shifted ever so slightly beneath you.

She responded immediately, her fingers lifting to gently brush his jaw, encouraging him, guiding him. The kiss deepened slowly, breath mingling, hands finding each other. It was warm, explorative, delicate — but full of something real.

Bob’s hand slid around her waist, his thumb stroking just under the hem of her shirt. Her own hand, featherlight, slipped under his t-shirt, her fingers skimming across his chest. The touch made him gasp softly against her mouth, his heart racing.

Then he froze.

Just for a second.

He pulled back slightly, breath shaky, eyes searching hers with something between awe and panic. “Sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to��was that too fast? I didn’t want to mess anything up, I—”

She only looked at him, calm and radiant in the glow of the lights, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Hey,” she murmured, brushing her fingers through his hair. “It’s okay.”

His eyes blinked up at her in awe, lost for words.

Then she shifted, slowly, confidently — straddling him with ease and grace, the quiet rustle of the sheets following her movement.

She pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor beside the bed, the strands of her hair falling loose around her shoulders. There was no nervousness in her gaze—only love. Trust. And a bit of playful spark.

Bob's breath hitched, his hands hovering as if afraid to touch something so precious.

She leaned down and kissed him softly, her lips brushing his cheek before she whispered close to his ear:

“Do you want me, Bobby?”

His voice came out in a breathless rush. “Yes. Yes.”

She smiled at his answer, biting her lip. “Then you’ve got too many clothes on, Bobby.”

He looked up at her, stunned and overwhelmed in the best way, his heart thudding so hard it echoed in his ears.

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dustofthedailylife · 2 years ago

Text

How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101

→ Masterlist || → Taglist -> Next Part

Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader

Summary: The moment your verdict was decided as guilty you were brought to the Fortress of Meropide - despite being innocent. Little did you know that the trip to prison would make you meet the love of your life.

Tags: Fluff, kissing, you're in prison (but innocent), some violence (not graphic), swearing

A/N: Due to me being utterly normal about Wriothesley I had the idea for this fic - who am I kidding I would commit a crime for this man.

“According to the judgment of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale, the defendant is declared… guilty.”

The voice of Chief Justice Neuvillette was ringing in your ears as he read out the verdict. Your verdict.

You couldn’t believe it. You knew you hadn’t done what you had been accused of, that the eyewitnesses had lied the moment they had opened their mouths, that the evidence had been tampered with, that you had been framed for the crime – but you were innocent. And no one was ever going to believe you.

After all, the device that had handed you the fateful false verdict was treated as infallible in Fontaine. You now at least had proof that its reputation was nothing but hollow words. But what use was the knowledge other than just a bittersweet confirmation for no one but yourself?

And before you knew it, guards were escorting you out the back of the Opera Epiclese in handcuffs. Roughly dragging you along with them into a big elevator. Down – deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean.

You had heard stories of the Fortress of Meropide before – the secluded place where all criminals and outcasts of Fontaine resided. The place no one had ever come back from to tell the tale. At least not in one piece.

You weren’t sure how you felt on the way down the elevator but you would describe it as something akin to hollowness.

The glances the guards threw your way out of the corner of their eyes literally screamed disgust. You were nothing more than a dirty criminal to them after all – someone who was to be shunned and banished from society for all eternity. And if you really had done what you were convicted for, you wouldn’t even blame them for their disdain.

When the elevator arrived at the bottom the doors opened with a mechanical hiss. The scent of machine oil, iron, and damp moldy cellars immediately pricked at your nose and it was the exact opposite of what you’d call homely.

The guards turned you in at the reception, where a rather unpleasant woman took your mugshots before handing you over to yet another rather unfriendly man who led you even further down into the Fortress.

With every new step you took, you tried to come to terms with the fact that the sight of damp, stone, and ironclad walls as well as the lingering industrial smell was going to be your life from now on.

And the dawning realization of that was painfully pulling a tight rope around your throat. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry and most of all, you wanted to run away and pretend like all of this was a bad dream. But you couldn't.

Instead, you were trodding behind the man who was escorting you and silently began to cry as big beads of tears soon began rolling down your cheeks.

"Crying won't help you anymore, sweetheart." The man remarked almost mockingly as soon as he looked back over his shoulder at your defeated frame. "Should've thought about that before you did some shit."

No. You’re wrong. I'm innocent.

At least that was what you wanted to spit back at him. But it was as if any fierceness or strength to stand up for yourself had left you the moment you set foot into this prison. You simply had no strength left to fight.

You soon arrived in a gigantic circular room. The contraption in the middle almost looked like a giant engine, elevators were going up one level on one side and even further down on the other side of the room. The ceiling was so high up that you almost couldn't make it out at all. The light was dim and the only real light sources were yellow lanterns whose light was bouncing off of the copper-colored iron pipes, crates, and frames that lined the entire room. Gloomy would probably be the best way to describe it.

The pungent smell of oil and damp cellar was hanging in the air here as well and probably even more prominent than it had been before. Only now it was also mixed with what you thought was old sweat and… tea? The smell of the latter seemed oddly out of place and you couldn't make out where exactly it was coming from. All you knew was that it was probably the only pleasant smell you had encountered down here.

Taking the elevator up one level again the man you had been following this entire time led you into a side hallway that looked more like a vent pipe. The dimly lit room that was lying behind it was only furnished with a bunk bed and a barely functioning lantern. He unlocked your handcuffs before roughly shoving you into the room with a smug grin on his face.

"Make yourself at home." He chuckled mockingly before turning around on his heel and leaving while whistling a tune to himself that eerily echoed off the stone walls.

You lay down on the bed, exhaling in defeat. Your throat still felt like someone had painfully tied it shut and tears were dangerously pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Now what?

You had no idea what to do here aside from sitting your time off. Where do you get food? Were you supposed to work and if yes, where do you have to and when?

You closed your eyes as a single tear escaped from the corner of your eyes, rolling down your cheek, dampening the pillow you lay on.

All you heard around you were wet droplets falling from the ceiling onto the wet stone floor, distant voices from down below, and your own breathing. The only thing that drowned these sounds out were the thoughts in your head.

Now that you had a quiet moment to yourself after everything that had gone down today, the realization about your situation was beginning to seep in for good. This bed, these walls, the oily smell… this was going to be the rest of your life now.

And that’s when you broke down and started crying once again.

Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you knew was waking up to the smell of food wafting through the air vent in front of your room.

You got up from the bed, took the elevator down, and followed the smell. Soon you found yourself standing in front of a Cafeteria, where fellow inmates were queuing for lunch. Or was it dinner? You’ve barely even been here a day, but the distinct lack of daylight already made you lose track of time.

You sighed and walked over, queuing for some food as well. You didn’t have any appetite but you knew you had to eat something and your grumbling stomach was screaming for food, appetite be damned. Much to your dismay, the food needed to be paid for, well, at least the stuff that looked digestible.

You ordered the only free option and sat down with the bowl of grayish, funky-looking liquid whose consistency was more akin to that of wallpaper paste. It didn’t look appetizing, but at least it was free and would prevent you from starving.

Just as you were about to lift the first spoon of gooey pap in your mouth, someone sat down at your table, making you halt your movement for a brief second.

He placed his tray on the table with a loud bang before plopping down on the bench right in front of you. His food looked tremendously more high quality than yours. Your mouth began watering from just looking at it. Freshly made roast potatoes with rosemary, fluffy pieces of baguette with salted butter, a big juicy piece of meat – grilled to perfection, and a glass of mousse au chocolat.

He leaned forward, supporting himself on the table with his elbows, folded his hands and intensely looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. It seemed like he wasn’t in a hurry to start eating any time soon.

You pretended to ignore him and began eating. The soup, which could vaguely be identified as lentil soup, left a slimy feeling on your tongue and tasted completely bland. Every fiber of your body told you to spit it back out again but with enough willpower, you actually managed to swallow it. Not without pulling a grimace first though.

“You’re new here.” The stranger in front of you observed with curiosity.

You looked up at him, nodding slowly shoveling another spoonful of goo in your mouth before going back to ignoring him. You weren’t really interested in trying to make connections here. All you wanted was to get out of here again – even though you knew deep down that the likelihood of that was nearing zero.

“Adapting well?” He inquired, still not in a hurry to touch his food.

You suspiciously looked up at him. There was just something about this guy that was off. He didn’t quite fit in here at all. He was admittedly very handsome. He looked well groomed and his attire was way too pompous to be an inmate - or maybe he was some rich guy who got some sort of special treatment down here. Every other inmate was avoiding your table and people looked at him with an almost reverent look in their eyes. If it wasn’t for the scars that seemed to cover the majority of his body already, this just further confirmed your gut feeling to avoid this guy at all costs in the future.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He chuckled, eyeing you further with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What do you want?” You asked, now slightly annoyed.

“Just trying to strike up some friendly conversation. You know, seeing how lost you were while ordering food, not knowing about tickets, and just dashing around like a scared blubberbeast, led me to believe that no one gave you a rundown of how this place works. So, allow me?” He remarked with that same smirk.

When you wordlessly motioned for him to continue, he began explaining the workings and rules down here in detail. Unspoken rules, general rules, what and who to avoid, how jobs worked, work times, payment and money, general daily schedule, and a lot more. There was simply so much you were beginning to feel lightheaded as soon as he had finished speaking and you could feel the lump in your throat grow in size with every minute that passed. You would never be able to live here.

“That should about cover the basics.” He finished explaining as you swallowed thickly.

You opened your mouth in order to speak but he swiftly lifted his finger to shut you up.

“No need to say anything. I know it’s not easy to adapt to a new environment. Especially not one you feel trapped in. But that feeling will fade eventually. Trust me.” He threw you a genuine smile before lifting himself up from the bench and pushing his tray with the food in your direction, pointing at it with an offering gesture.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide.” He said, before striding away.

“Wait-” You jumped up from the table causing him to halt in his tracks and turn around once more. “What’s your name?”

“Wriothesley.”

After this strange encounter with the mysterious and admittedly attractive man, you didn’t see him around for a long while. This came as a surprise because you’d assume someone with his looks and attire would stick out like a sore thumb wherever he went. But it was as if the ground itself had swallowed him.

You wanted to see him again, mostly because you thought you could learn from him for your life down here. And despite your gut telling you that he was a walking red flag you had developed a strange curiosity for him.

You had begun working at the ship dockyard where a big window was offering a view into the ocean. You could somewhat make out the sky and time of day from there and it was the only thing that kept you from going completely insane in here. All you had done was sleep, work, eat, and repeat since you came here. Some people had tried speaking to you and some asked what you were here for, but you didn’t have any interest in conversing with them – especially not after you had tried telling someone that you were innocent and they had just laughed at you. Needless to say, you had no desire to connect with people – although he was the only exception seeing as you were craving to talk to him again, as much as you tried to deny it.

Today you were working at the docks again and found yourself longingly staring out of the large window. Your mind drifted off and you wondered how it would feel to simply swim back up to the surface where your lost freedom lay.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” A familiar voice reached your ears from behind.

“Wriothesley!”

The man in question walked up to you and came to a halt right next to you. He looked out through the window himself before looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a slight smirk.

“Still longing for the surface?” He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. “It never fully goes away but once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”

“Is that so?” You ushered quietly, scoffing. You were simply unable to believe him, not when your freedom had been taken unjustifiably.

“Thank you for the food the other day, by the way. I didn’t have a chance to thank you yet.” You attempted to divert the topic.

“Don’t mention it.” He waved dit off with an unwavering smile. “It is almost time for lunch, have you eaten yet? We could head to the Cafeteria together. My treat.”

“Oh, you absolutely don’t have to, I have enough credits for food now that–”

“Please. I insist.”

And so you found yourself sitting at the table with Wriothesley again, with the most exquisite meal that tickets could buy down here.

You were surprised he was able to fork over nearly four thousand credits to buy the meals as if they were nothing. And especially since he treated you to such a meal as well, while everyone else down here held onto their credits as if their life depended on it. And of course, you also didn’t miss the stares of the others again when you sat down with your fancy meal.

You carefully eyed the food and then Wriothesley as if you didn’t deserve to be treated to something like this. He looked back at you with a genuine smile as he continued nibbling on his baguette.

“Anything wrong?” He asked with curiosity.

“No. It’s just… why–?”

“Why am I treating you to something?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement as if he had read your thoughts. You nodded slowly in reply.

“You’re interesting. That’s all there is to it.” He admitted with a smirk.

“I’m interesting? Me?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “You say that when you’re the one I could say that about. You don’t look like you fit in here at all, you have a truckload of credits to spend, and everyone here looks at you like you own the place.”

You paused for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’ve been here for a long time already, haven’t you?”

“You… could say that, yeah.” He replied with a chuckle, dipping his baguette into the rich sauce on his plate.

“Why are you here?” You continued prying.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replied with a smug grin before he continued eating.

You couldn’t quite decide if he was a red flag you should run as far away from as possible or if you wanted to get to know him closer. But either way, your first priority for now was not letting the food go to waste so you began eating the heavenly-tasting meal.

A silence settled between you two that was surprisingly pleasant as you both quietly ate with the occasional glace thrown at each other.

Once you were both done he took your tray with him to put it into the tray cart before turning back around with a smile.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked.

“U-uh… yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.” You stammered a bit taken aback, still confused as to why he wanted to hang out with you so much. You were a nobody with nothing to your name – not even a criminal record technically.

“Great. See you tomorrow then.”

And with that, a habit would slowly form. You would meet up for lunch each day and not long after, also for dinner. He often picked you up at the docks and bought a meal for you and only sometimes you were able to deter him from doing so and insisted that you bought your own since you were genuinely beginning to feel bad even if he seemed well off.

You sometimes sat down for a long time talking even after you both had finished eating. You chatted just about anything and as it would turn out you two seemed to share similar interests. You found out he really loved tea and had extensive knowledge in that regard. And it just so happened that you too were a fellow tea aficionado. Not only that though, you two shared a similar taste in music, books, food, and more. After a couple of weeks had gone by it felt like you had already been friends for the longest time. And much to your surprise, not once had he attempted to ask you why you were here or pried into your private life.

On another such day, you were just heading out of the dormitories towards the Cafeteria to meet up with him. But before you could arrive there someone forcefully yanked you behind some iron crates. You crashed against them with the back of your head with a loud bang, momentarily losing consciousness as pain shot through your system.

"What kinda big shot are ya, huh? What're ya sitting for?" A man yelled at you aggressively.

As soon as you got a grasp of your surroundings again, even though now extremely dizzy, you saw a big bulky guy with a missing front tooth who was pinning you against the boxes by your throat with an iron grip. He was accompanied by two other, less muscular guys who were staring at you in the same aggressive manner. His lackeys, you assumed.

"I have- I have no idea… what you're talking about." You struggled the words out due to the applied pressure on your vocal cords.

"What're ya here for, asshole?!" The man yelled at you even louder now, a few beads of spit flying right into your face through his tooth gap.

"I… I didn't do anything. I–" You gasped breathlessly as you clutched your hands around the hand around your throat, trying to alleviate some of the pressure being applied to it.

"Bullshit! You don't land here for twiddlin’ ya thumbs counterclockwise. And if the Duke's got the eye on ya already, ya've to be some VIP or some shit!" The toothless man spit on the ground between your feet.

“Duke?” You asked confusedly.

“Tch, don’t fuck with me here, shut ya trap. Now, tell me. What’ve ya done? Be honest or I might’ve’ta polish your visage a lil’.” He viciously cackled in unison with his two lackeys who were cheering on him.

“I didn’t. Do. Anything.” You bit back through clenched teeth, putting a strong emphasis on each word. And before you were able to react, a stinging pain shot through your system as a fist connected with your face, sending your head flying back against the crate once again.

You immediately began to see stars and could feel your consciousness quickly fade away. The ringing in your ears and the accompanying dizziness from the impact was overbearing everything and all you could make out before you passed out was a flash of white light and pleas for mercy. Then everything faded to black.

The next thing you knew was waking up with a bandage around your head and an intense migraine. You felt like a horde of boars had trampled over you. The omnipresent pain got worse when you instinctively tried to sit up on the bed you found yourself on.

You hissed in pain and immediately felt a pair of big hands push you back into the fluffy bedding.

“Stay.”

You recognized this voice. You had heard it so often in the past couple of weeks that, despite your delirious state, you had no issue placing it.

“Wriothesley.” You uttered weakly with your eyes still closed.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”

He took hold of your hand with a reassuring squeeze and the feeling of his warmth on your skin made you feel tingly all over and the all-present pain immediately felt like it was being alleviated ever so slightly. Out of all people you were glad it was him by your side.

“What? Where?” You rasped, attempting to slowly open your eyes.

“We’re in a separate room at the Fortress Infirmary. Someone roughed you up real good and you fell unconscious. I arrived just in time to prevent worse. You’ll probably have a nasty bruise on your face for a while and you’ve got quite the concussion as well as a cracked rib. But nothing some bed rest and a good cup of tea wouldn’t be able to fix, hm?” He tried to reassure, brushing a strand of hair out of your forehead.

"Your Grace, here is the medicine you asked for." A guard suddenly came rushing into the infirmary with a small satchel that he handed to Wriothesley before quickly leaving again after a courteous bow towards the man by your side.

You furrowed your brows in confusion at the display of submissiveness of the guard towards a fellow prisoner when you've been treated with nothing but disdain and… wait a minute.

Your Grace. The looks he got from the others during lunch and dinner time. The Duke. It's him?!

The memories suddenly came rushing back to you – how you had been slammed into the metal crates, how the toothless man had mentioned the Duke while threatening you and how his fist had then ultimately painfully kissed your face.

You didn't have all the puzzle pieces to connect everything into a clear image yet but it was enough to feel that there was an epiphany just mere millimeters out of your range.

You startled and sat up on the bed with wide-blown eyes once more as pain shot through you again from the abrupt movement. Pain so bad you thought you would have to throw up for a second.

"I-I… your Grace? The Duke? It's you! He meant you and– who? W-what?! I-I– he threatened me and I-I'm innocent. I don't belong here I–I'm innocent–" You incoherently stammered nonsense because your mouth couldn't match up with the speed at which your thoughts were racing.

Just who was he?

But before you got to properly ask that question a pair of soft lips gently connected with yours, rendering you speechless and cutting off the words that were spilling from your mouth relentlessly like water from a leaky faucet. He squeezed your hand a little tighter while the other gently found comfort on your cheek. Cradling it so carefully as if you're the finest piece of porcelain in the world and could break any minute.

The gentleness of his touch, the warmness of his lips, and the smell of Earl Grey on his breath made your body explode into a sea of fireworks. It wasn't until this moment that you realized you had developed feelings for Wriothesley that went beyond the casual acquaintance you met up with after work for food in the prison cafeteria. It was just that you had been too occupied and lost in your own thoughts about your predicament to realize it.

Your curiosity and cravings to see him more and more often weren’t just born from a place of loneliness. Your heart had craved for him all this time.

Your hands found comfort in his hair as you leaned into the kiss more, prying a low chuckle out of him and you felt him smirk against your lips.

"I know you are." He whispered against your lips when he separated from you again.

"What?" You asked in confusion, already forgetting what he was replying to.

"That you're innocent."

"N-no I don't mean just in this case… I didn't commit any crimes I was sent here despite being innocent I-"

You didn't even realize you had started crying until he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"I know." He reiterated firmly.

You looked up in his face and his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity. He must be the first person you ever encountered who didn't see the sentence of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale as infallible and unquestionable.

"How?" You quietly breathed out in disbelief.

"I knew it on the first day I saw you. My beliefs were just further confirmed when I talked to you for the first time. I've been working behind the scenes to get you out of here again ever since." He admitted, wiping another stray tear from your cheek.

That's why he was gone for days after your first meeting and suddenly arrived again behind you at the docks.

"You went above ground?" You rasped, making the question of who he actually is even bigger.

He nodded, taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Is that why he also said you would find out who he is soon enough that one day? But you still didn't know… who actually is he?

"How are you allowed to go out? Who are you?"

"You still didn't figure it out?" He smirked. "I'm Wriothesley. Warden of the Fortress of Meropide."

And at that moment everything fell like scales from your eyes.

His attire, the looks of other prisoners, the abundance of tickets to spend, randomly disappearing for days, the Duke… the Cryo Vision dangling from his shoulder despite not being allowed to carry any in here.

He was the one who saved you earlier.

He must've noticed your glance because he squeezed your hands a little tighter and reassured you: "They won't ever bother you again. I took care of it."

You didn't dare ask what he meant by that and simply nodded in acceptance.

"I can also tell you that things are going well. I pulled some strings and you might be out of here by the end of the week again with no criminal record to your name."

But what if you actually didn't want to leave anymore? At least not without him.

"Will I be able to see you again?"

A question that spilled out of your mouth before you could properly think about it. But the deafening silence that followed told you everything you needed to know. He rarely left the underground and was occupied down here most of the time so the possibility of you and him seeing each other again was low.

"Certainly." He replied after a while avoiding looking into your eyes.

A white lie. He wanted you to return to your old life again, out of the confines of this prison you had unjustifiably been thrown in. He didn't want to keep you here only for the selfish desires of his heart that he had unplannedly given to you along the way. Maybe he would find a way to be with you once you returned, maybe he didn't – But that didn't mean he couldn't indulge in what you had for the remaining time you were here with him.

And that's when he pulled you closer once more, one hand resting on your waist, gently massaging your skin through the fabric of your shirt while reuniting your lips as if it was the last thing he would ever get to taste.

And maybe, if it was what it took to see him again, you wouldn't mind actually committing a crime.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin wriothesley #genshin x y/n #genshin impact fanfic #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin brainrot #genshin headcanons #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 gi

4K notes · View notes

halfvalid · 2 years ago

Text

nobody but you

ABOUT

alternate title: the jealous character trope is actually kinda fun to write

rating: teen+

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!vinsmoke sanji | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

description: sanji flirts endlessly with you while dining at the baratie. zoro is displeased.

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, no use of 'y/n', establishment of relationship, flirting, alcohol consumption, pda

author’s note: i got like ~5 requests to write this so here you guys go! this was a popular one lmao. the story is a vague spinoff to my other fic pretty in that, but it doesn't have to be read to understand this one.

You’d volunteered to deal with the docking fees for the Going Merry, locking up the pirate ship as the rest of the crew entered Baratie. You were just five or so minutes late entering after the restaurant the rest of the Straw Hats had gone into. You’d never seen anything like it before—an eatery right in the middle of the ocean, in the shape of a giant fish.

You stepped into the building cautiously, glancing around the wide expanse of the main room to try and catch a glimpse of your friends. The restaurant was big, with a mezzanine that you’d entered in and stairs leading down to the first floor. The host, a fishman who was standing at the reservation desk, glanced up to take a look at you.

“Ah, you must be with the pirates,” he said pleasantly. “Right this way, miss.”

You nodded, wondering how Luffy was intending on paying for the bill of such a place as you scoped out the area. It was far nicer than anything you would’ve expected—but then again, he’d somehow managed to score the Going Merry from Kaya back in Syrup Village, so you figured he’d work something out.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of the rest of your crew, tucked away in a circular side booth that the fishman led you to. Luffy brightened upon seeing you, waving you over with a hand so excitedly you feared it was about to flop around like rubber. Considering his powers, that was a more than likely situation, actually.

“Thank you,” you told the host, then turned towards your friends. “No food yet?”

“You didn’t miss much,” Usopp said, a little snicker in his voice. “Just the waiter getting our drink orders. He was flirting the heck outta Nami.”

“Oh?” you asked, a smile flickering up your lips. The only open space in the table was between Zoro and Nami—you gave Zoro a confused look, and he gestured down to his swords, which were caught in the ledge between the chair and the wall. You snickered. “Ro. You’re such a loser.”

“Shut up,” Zoro muttered, hand on your waist as you climbed over him to get to the empty seat. It stayed there for a moment longer, even after you’d arranged yourself in the seat, before he finally dropped his hand. Usopp made a face that you pointedly ignored.

“What’d you guys order?” you asked instead. If there’d been a menu available, the waiter had probably taken it away; still, there wasn’t much variety in the East Blue, so you could expect there’d be a lot of seafood and not much else.

“One of everything,” Luffy responded brightly. “So we’ll be able to try the whole menu!”

“You sure that’s a good idea, Cap?” you asked, brows raised. Luffy shrugged.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Quit it with the nickname,” Zoro muttered. Neither him or Nami had gotten any more receptive to it since you’d first started calling Luffy it. Usopp didn’t seem so keen on it either—if only because he fancied himself Captain Usopp. Luffy liked it, though, and that pleased you enough to keep using it.

“I’ll get you to start saying it eventually,” you teased, nudging Zoro in the arm. He shook his head, but there was a suggestion of a smile on his lips as he glanced away. “Just you wait.” You turned to Nami, eyes sparkling. “What about the waiter, though? Was he cute?”

Usopp laughed at that, and Nami gave you a disparaging look. “Come on,” she started. “Not you too. Zoro was all—”

The sound of footsteps cut off her speech, and you glanced up to find a lean, blond man pausing by the lip of your table. He held a silver plate, upon which perched a variety of different drinks—beers, milk, water. “Here are your drinks,” he said, voice lifting with an accent you couldn’t quite place. “And appetizers.”

He had just finished placing the last of the drinks balancing on his forearm on the table when the waiter glanced up and registered you sitting there. His expression instantly changed, the crease of his mouth softening into a pleasant smile, his previously-dull blue eyes bright and sparkling. “Well, hello there. An addition?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” you said. The waiter flashed a grin, white ivories shining under the fluorescents.

“Oh, absolutely no problem. They say those who are late are fashionable, and you, madam, certainly fit the bill,” the waiter said. Your eyes widened, glancing over to Nami to find her shaking her head, but the waiter didn’t stop there. “I’m Sanji. What can I get for you to drink? We’ve got a wide selection of fine wines that might suit your taste.”

“Oh, um—” you started, glancing at the rest of your crew again. Usopp was hiding his snicker, and Nami was giving you a tired look. Assumedly this had been the man who’d tried it on her, too—to unfortunate ends, probably, considering how Nami was. Not that this would be any more effective on you. Your eye was already captured by a particular green-haired swordsman, after all. “I don’t really have anything in mind.”

Sanji looked pleased about that, clasping his hands together around his platter. “Ah, let me guess, then. A bayberry or red currant wine, perhaps? Fruity, tart, full of flavor.” he winked. “A feisty drink for a feisty girl.”

“Can’t say I’ve tried it, but sure,” you said, the faintest smile on your lips. “I’ll let you know how I like it.”

Sanji grinned, looking rather satisfied with that, a delighted little smile on his lips. “One red currant wine, then. I’ll have it right out. And would you also like to order a meal, or…” He glanced over at Luffy, presumably referencing your captain’s more-than-outrageous order. “Are you all set?”

“I think we’re set, thanks,” you assured, and Sanji nodded. He flashed you another bright smile before turning on his heel back off to the kitchen.

Usopp finally let out the laughter he’d been keeping in, choked sounds emitting from his throat as he thudded his chest with a fist. You rolled your eyes, but it was good-natured, letting Usopp laugh.

“Well, at least I’m not being singled out,” Nami said with a sigh, and you exchanged a sympathetic glance with her. She patted your hand comfortingly, then scrutinized the water Sanji had gotten her. “At least he didn’t put it in a flute.”

“Zoro, you’ve got competition!” Usopp called, still laughing from the entire ordeal. You glanced to your side, to where the swordsman sat. Zoro had stiffened sometime during the conversation, jaw clenched and arms wound tightly across his chest. He hadn’t even touched the beer that Sanji had set in front of him, eyes fixed carefully to a spot beside Luffy’s head and refusing to look over at you.

“He’s a waiter,” Zoro said crisply. “He buses tables for a living.” With that, he grabbed his bottle, popping the tab and taking a swig.

“I don’t know, man, did you see the way he took down those pirates?” Usopp turned to you, all excited again. “Oh, you missed this whole thing! Two pirates were fighting over a seat or something, and Sanji just demolished both of them! You would’ve loved it.”

“He is a really good fighter,” Luffy agreed. Their words did nothing but seem to annoy Zoro further.

“Can we not talk about the restaurant personnel? Surely you can think of more interesting topics of conversation.” His tone was sharp, and all icy, and you inched your hand closer to his leg to tap his thigh in question. He glanced down at your touch, but didn’t deign to say anything else. He just picked up his beer again, nursing it while the rest of the crew continued on with their conversation.

Despite Luffy changing the subject, Zoro didn’t speak, and you kept peeking glances over at him in concern. Your feelings for him had just continued developing ever since Syrup Village, although neither of you had reasonably talked about the closet incident since it’d happened. What with the reveal of Kuro and the escape from the marines and all, there hadn’t exactly been time to. But you’d been on good terms, and the actions he made around you—pressing a hand to your waist as you moved past him, turning towards you first mid-conversation, shoving you down when the marines had fired their first cannon at the Going Merry.

Before you could whisper to him and question what his silence was about, though, Sanji reappeared, carrying two platters filled to the brim with plates. They were laden with different types of meat and vegetables, sauces glinting under the light and hot steam still billowing.

He set the dishes on the table, somehow managing to arrange them so they all fit on the countertop. Sanji set down the last plate then turned to you, placing a glass and a bottle of dark crimson wine on the table in front of you. He had to lean over Zoro to reach, and Zoro flinched, but still didn’t say anything as Sanji uncorked the bottle and poured you a glass.

“Tell me what you think,” he said, all smiles again. “I’ll be embarrassed if it isn’t to your liking.”

You picked the glass up, swirling it carefully inside the glass before leaning down into the cup to take in a full sniff. You tilted your head back to take a small sip, moving the liquid around your mouth to fully savor the flavor before finally swallowing. The wine was sweet, light rather than rich with a delicate tartness that burst on your tongue. You glanced up just to see a giant grin had stretched up Sanji’s mouth, brightening his face up considerably.

“What?” you asked.

“Not often do I see a patron who knows how to taste wine properly,” Sanji answered with a little duck of his head. “A lady of class, I see. How do you like it?”

“Not too strong. I like the tartness,” you answered. “A good recommendation. Thank you.”

Sanji gave you a little bow, hand flourishing to the side as he dipped his head. “I live to serve.”

“Yeah, well, why don’t you serve me another beer?” Zoro said abruptly. Usopp coughed, and you could see Nami elbow him out of your peripheral vision. Luffy just looked confused.

Sanji’s face fell almost immediately after Zoro had spoken, his eyes flickering away from yours. “Of course. I’ll be right back,” he said, a tight smile at his lips. He ducked out of the booth, and Zoro let out an irritated noise, tongue flicking against from the roof of his mouth.

Usopp snorted, fully this time, and you turned to glance over at him—he and Nami were both hiding their gazes, though you could see smiles cracked along their lips.

Zoro glared at them. “Shut it.”

“Not saying anything!” Usopp said, though he half-hid behind Luffy like Zoro was going to lunge over the table to get to him. That didn’t seem… entirely unlikely, actually; Zoro’s right hand rested firmly on the handle of one of his swords, fingers ready to pull the blade at any second. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to say something. But not in front of everyone else. It wouldn’t be appropriate, you decided.

Eventually your meal wound down to an end. Zoro got less and less tense throughout it, though you were fairly certain that was due to the drinks he was having rather than any actual reassurance. Sanji, thankfully, came back with the bill in the middle of a conversation you really didn’t want to think about—Luffy and his marine grandfather was not something your mind wanted to dwell on—only for him to disappear again.

Just moments later, a man with a braided mustache came storming out of the kitchen. Luffy did some more of his Luffy nonsense, and, honestly—you were getting too tired about all of this to pay any close attention. You spared a glance over at Zoro again. His face was as blank as ever.

“Okay,” Usopp said slowly, a few delayed seconds after who’d undoubtedly been the head chef yanked Luffy out of his seat. “I’m ready to check out whatever’s outside. Let’s go.”

“What about Luffy?” you asked, perplexed.

“He’ll find his way out of that,” Nami said with a sigh. She stood up, knocking back the rest of her drink. Since she wasn’t exactly wrong, you got up, glancing over your shoulder at the last of the group that remained seated. “Zoro?”

Zoro was staring into his now-empty bottle of beer. He still seemed off, the line of his mouth creased downwards, jaw set tight. “Yeah,” he said finally, standing to his full height and slipping out of the booth. He offered you a hand, helping you down from your seat, but said nothing more.

The four of you headed out to the mouth of the Baratie fish, which boasted a bar decorated with neon lights. You found a place to sit by the fish’s bottom lip, and you turned in your seat, staring out at the sea. The water was dark with the night, peaceful ripples moving across the water that sent shimmering waves across the blue.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Usopp said. “Come, Nami?”

“Huh?” Nami glanced up, and you turned to watch the exchange. “Oh, I’m okay, Usopp. Thanks, though.”

“No,” Usopp insisted, a smile still pasted on his face as he jerked his head, not very discreetly, in your and Zoro’s direction. Nami seemed to realize, then, eyes going wide before she got up from her seat.

“Actually, on second thought, I’ll join you,” she said, far smoother than Usopp had been. “God knows you don’t have any money to pay for a drink.”

She breezed past him, ignoring the offended gape Usopp left in her wake before he was scrambling to follow her. You turned your attention towards Zoro—he was lounging in the seat across from you, one hand on his swords with his legs crossed. “Hi,” you said carefully.

He stiffened. “Hey.”

You pursed your lips, mulling over the ways to go about the conversation before ultimately deciding to spit it out. “What’s wrong?” At his raised brow, you were prompted to continue— “During dinner. You were acting weird.”

Zoro shook his head, dropping his gaze from yours. You could see the faintest trace of freckles spattered along his cheeks, the yellow glow from the lanterns reflecting off his skin. “Nothing’s wrong. Just… the waiter.”

“The waiter,” you repeated. Zoro shifted, legs uncrossing and hand tightening around his swords again. His voice was low the next time he spoke, and you could barely hear him, having to lean forward to catch all of his words.

“He was flirting with you.”

Your breath hitched, but you tried to keep your tone casual. “He was flirting with Nami too,” you said, glancing up to meet his eyes. Zoro still wouldn’t meet your gaze, staring out into the East Blue behind you.

“That’s different.” Zoro’s eyes finally lifted, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks as you met eyes. You shivered, gooseflesh suddenly prickling up everywhere on your skin—the back of your neck, up your spine, down your arms and legs. “I don’t like Nami.”

You tilted your head to the side, meeting his gaze. The words sent a little rush through you; a rush you got practically every time Zoro looked in your direction, actually, which was only a little bit annoying. The amount of influence a man you’d known for, comparatively, not that long had over you had you rolling your eyes all the time, but… you trusted Zoro at this point, as uncooperative as he and Nami had been throughout your entire journey.

“You’re jealous of a waiter.”

“Don’t—” Zoro sighed. “Don’t put it like that.”

“But it’s true. You’re jealous of a waiter,” you said, unblinking. Zoro rolled his eyes, teeth resting along his lower lip in an almost-bite. You snickered, tone sloping upwards to become more teasing, almost sarcastic. “How the mighty have fallen. From me practically begging you to say I looked nice in a dress to this.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Zoro said, uncrossing his legs to lean over and press his hand over your mouth. You laughed, surprised, as he leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the reaction. “Not another word.”

He removed his hand, giving you a look. You betrayed his trust almost immediately. “Of a waiter.”

“Do you want me to put the hand back?” Zoro threatened, but you were full-on laughing by now, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. The sounds escaped from your mouth, ringing out in soft, lively hiccups. He shook his head, hand falling to his side as he watched you, a ghost of a smile tugging up the side of his mouth.

“Sorry, Ro,” you said, unable to suppress your grin even as your laughter died off. “It’s a little funny, you have to admit.”

“I’d like to hear you talk if someone was flirting with me,” Zoro muttered, so quiet you could barely hear. You had to stifle another laugh.

“Okay, well, unlike you, I don’t get territorial over people I haven’t even talked about my relationship with, but I appreciate it.” You nudged him. “It’s kinda cute.”

Zoro seemed lost in the first half of your sentence, and you could practically see the cogs whirring in his head. For a moment, you were worried that the closet had been a one-time thing—but no, he’d mentioned just earlier that he liked you, so clearly something else was the matter.

Your worries were answered in just another moment. “...We’re supposed to talk about our relationship?”

“Zoro.” You gave him a look of disbelief, forced to suppress another laugh, though this time it was out of incredulity. “Yes. Have you ever dated anyone before?”

Zoro made a face at that. “Keeping that to myself, thanks.” He dropped his chin, glancing down at where you were, still leaning over you so you were forced to crane your neck to stare up at him. He tilted his head to the side. “So what kind of talking are we supposed to be doing?”

“You know, the establishment of being exclusive; a cementation of our feelings; what the relationship entails; where we want it to go…” You paused, watching as his eyes flickered down your face. Your words were going in one ear and out the other. “You’re not listening at all, huh.”

“Not really,” Zoro said, not sounding very apologetic about it. His free hand came to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head up just so. “Is the talking really that necessary?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your cool. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” he repeated, stretching out the syllables of the word as he quoted you. “So we can do it another day.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “What were you thinking?”

Zoro was slotting his lips over yours before you could say another word, his fingers digging into the hinge of your jaw to allow him better access. You smiled into the kiss, lips curling upwards and open to let him lick into your mouth.

It wasn’t too risqué, but Zoro took your breath away all the same, an appreciative murmur low in his throat as he kissed you. One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, tugging him insistently downwards so you could get a better angle at his mouth, sucking gently at his lower lip. He nearly stumbled, losing his center of gravity before steadying himself, one hand coming to rest on your ribcage as the kiss deepened.

“Guys!” Usopp’s voice came somewhere from the right, high-pitched and excessively scandalized. You felt Zoro scoff into your mouth.

“You realize you’re in public, right?” Nami deadpanned, plopping down in the seat next to you. You nudged Zoro’s head away, his hand still on your jaw, half-craned over your figure. Nami looked unimpressed, eyes flickering from Zoro to you and back again. “Get a room. Go back to the Going Merry for all I care.” She extended a hand, placing a mug of beer on the table before you before handing you a matching one. “I got you drinks. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning up to press one final kiss on Zoro’s lips before turning to take the glass Nami had outstretched. Usopp groaned, covering his eyes with one hand and lifting a giant cup of something with the other. It was so big you wondered how he’d even been able to carry it. You eyed him. “You’re going to pass out drinking that.”

Usopp made a face at you. You just laughed.

“Sorted out your issues with the waiter, then?” Nami asked, turning to fix a knowing look on Zoro. He rolled his eyes, effortless as ever as he settled back down into his seat.

“Still don’t like the waiter.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, and Zoro scoffed, picking up the mug Nami had gotten him. You could see the smile behind the glass rim, though, even as he clearly tried to hide it, and matched it with one of your own.

Zoro ducked his head to smile into his beer. Usopp made a gagging sound. “God,” Nami muttered, but their criticisms might as well have been deaf to your ears by then.

All you could see was Zoro.

#one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #reader insert #x reader #opla roronoa zoro #opla zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #opla fanfic #opla fanfiction #opla zoro x reader #kiki writes!

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sweetreasures · 3 months ago

Text

in action

director’s assistant!seonghwa x pornstar!reader

shower sex, fingering, deep throating, dom hwa, sub reader, slight degradation, praise, heavy petnames (angel, star, etc), overstimulation, multiple orgasms

minors dni, ageless blogs will be blocked

happy birthday, seonghwa ❤️

masterlist \\ read part one (our little star, mingi x reader)

seonghwa led you by the shoulders, supporting your bathrobe as you tightened the fabric around your waist. it was only a short walk to the dressing rooms, though the tension in the air was palpable and suffocating.

he hadn’t wasted a single moment after your audition—acting quickly in order to get you cleaned up. and more importantly, get you all to himself.

he couldn’t exactly act on these desires; no, hongjoong wasn’t joking when he said seonghwa wasn’t paid to fuck the talent. in fact, it was strictly forbiddened. hongjoong had no desire to complicate his work by fraternizing, dreading the thought of how many brilliant minds were brought down by needless sexual conflict. this did not stop seonghwa, who regularly found himself tongue deep in a hole to whom he would later have to file their payroll. however, he knew that if he wanted to do this right, he had to get you away from prying eyes.

you noticed the way he looked at you—hungrily, full of an implacable lust, like you were less a human and more a delicious midnight snack. it was a far cry from the person you met when you walked through those doors, the one who rid your body of its anxieties with just one warm smile.

you liked this seonghwa more. you held your breath as this seonghwa pushed open the entrance to a dressing room and motioned for you to step inside. lockers lined the wall, each individually marked with a name—undoubtedly belonging to the actors. you were all too familiar with mingi, but you also recognized “yeosang”, an actor whose niche was primarily workplace taboo.

the thought sent a chill down your spine. how on the nose could this get?

chilled air nips at your skin. seonghwa worked meticulously to strip you back down to nothing, letting his fingers graze lightly over your newly exposed skin. for a second, you expect him to take you right then and there. your cunt throbs, its walls having just recovered from being molded into the shape of song mingi.

“i’ll be right outside,” seonghwa informed you, motioning to a single door on the wall that led into a tiled shower. he presses a long kiss to your forehead, “let me know if you need any help.”

with that, he winks, closing the door and leaving you alone with yourself and his words. where had seonghwa expected you to encounter a problem using a shower, you wondered. the while situation frustrated you—he needed to stop with the mind games and get inside you quick.

the water of the shower warmed your skin as your eyes fluttered shut, allowing yourself to relax with the moment. with every pass of the washcloth, you made sure to give extra attention to your reddening areolas, massaging your nipples in a circular motion. a soft gasp escaped your lips, and you are instantly grateful for the cover of running water that masked your sounds of desperation.

“mmm…nngh…” you groaned as the texture of the cloth teased the overly sensitive buds. the water rushed between your cleavage like river water rushing over glistening rocks. the whole scene was so painfully soft and erotic, you made a mental note to include some similar in your next video.

you allowed the washcloth to venture down, stopping to lightly rub the area between your inner thighs but halting just short of the aching nub hidden within your folds. the heat radiating from your eager cunt was enough to fog up the shower doors all on its own, and the longer you spent trying to get yourself off, the more it drove you crazy.

“you okay in there, star?” seonghwa called from the dressing room, barely audible above the shower water. the words came out before you have time to react, though you didn’t care.

“seonghwa…please…help me…”

you didn’t know when seonghwa finally entered the shower, steam obscuring your vision as he kneeled on the floor beside you. you kept repeating those pleas until a hand takes hold of the cloth, slowly extracting it from your grasp.

“it’s okay, my baby angel. let me take care of you, hm?”

there was that distinctive warmth, his maternal nature complementary to the lustful undertones of his mannerisms. placing your full trust in him, he props you up against the tiled wall, separating your legs so your pussy came out in full display.

“what do you want? use your words, y/n.” his tone is firm yet caring. you didn’t know what you wanted—you hadn’t thought that far ahead. you wanted your dumb pussy sucked raw, you wanted seonghwa to pick a hole and pump you full of his seed. seonghwa looked at you expectant, unwilling to move on until you followed his commands.

“need your cock, hwa. please… need you inside me,” you whimpered, legs pressing together as you instinctively sought out some sort of friction. seonghwa forces them back over, positioning himself to wear his heavy cock lied between your folds. he began to move his hips, rubbing his length against your clit in a slow and deliberate fashion.

you let out a sharp cry every time his cock pressed against your entrance. precum leaked from seonghwa’s reddened tip, and he continued smearing it around your hole as if preparing you for his length. seonghwa watches you squirm like a prey animal, taking in the sight of your pathetic and reckless display of need. he was a man who loved taking his time—preferring to draw out his partner’s orgasms with his tongue or his fingers, anything before introducing his beautiful cock into the picture.

but the way you pleaded with your large doe eyes as those vulgar words came from your innocent lips…how could he not give you exactly what you wanted?

“do you think our mingi has loosened you up enough for me?” he was practically singing as his tip slipped into your slick cunt, watching himself sink halfway inside before pulling out completely.

“fuck me, seonghwa,” you began bucking your own hips up as he moves his cock away, responding to your neediness with a light tap on your pussy.

“i need you to be good for me,” he inserts himself back inside, eyes squeezing shut as you reflexively suck his length deeper into your walls. “can you be good for me?”

you nodded your head furiously, droplets of water landing onto seonghwa’s bare chest. he smirks, removing himself again with a harsh pop.

“words.”

“yes, sir.”

seonghwa snaps his hips against yours, cock bottoming out all at once as you screamed into your hand—uncaring of who was listening in. even seonghwa, who knew this was an hr (hongjoong) visit waiting to happen, did little more to silence you than stuff the wrung out rag inside your mouth. all efforts to be discrete—if any—were futile as the sound of his thrusts echoed off the shower walls.

“so tight…you’re so perfect for us, hm? little pussy was made to take cock. natural little cumslut.”

his words traveled through one ear and straight to your cunt. you couldn’t even form a full thought in your head, all cognitive abilities overwhelmed by the sheer desire to be full and feel good. a primative, subconscious need.

seonghwa continued at his brutal pace, taking a hold of your breast like handlebars. his only goal was making you cream all over him—he knew he had to have you when you finally arrived and provided a gorgeous face to the stories mingi kept telling about you. a million dollar pussy, an ass that deserves an oscar of its own. he was pleasantly surprised to see how receptive you were to his advances, leaving you soaked off just his gaze alone before mingi and hongjoong had even entered the room.

“oh, angel. you shouldn’t be so quick to give in like this,” seonghwa chastised, hypnotized by the way his length disappeared within your slick folds, “can’t have just anyone thinking they can touch you.”

“no, no, just for you. needed you so badly, hwa.” you alternated between drawn out mews and staccato gasping, breathlessly moaning out demands for seonghwa to go faster, harder…

your body no longer felt like your own. the sensation spreading throughout you numbed you from head to toe with pleasure. you were about to cum for the second time, this orgasm building to a much faster peak than the last.

he’s breathtaking, you thought to yourself as seonghwa angled you upwards, his tip pressing right against the sweet spot. hongjoong kept him out of view for a reason, and you figured it was jealousy—who wouldn’t want a body this pleasing all to themselves? you could both leave together, make a name for yourselves in erotica as the hottest film duo to see in action. then, you almost couldn’t believe what was happening to you, dick so good it had you planning a future with him.

“‘m cumming again…fuck it feels so fucking good, hwa,”

seonghwa sandwiches a hand between the two of you as he rubs at your clit, you nearly jump back from the sudden overstimulation. “cum for me, star. make a mess all over my cock. feel me on your clit and let go. just relax.”

he talks you through your orgasm, pace slowing down momentarily as you shook beneath him, vulgar swears escaping your lips in choked gasping phrases. seonghwa pulls out, stroking at his cock as he observed you coming down from orbit, kneading at your supple breasts.

“it’s my turn now, pretty angel. can you do something just for me?”

you didn’t have a moment to answer before seonghwa once again has you in his arms. this time, he lowered himself beneath you, positioning his mouth right below the mess that was your leaking cunt. you had taken up the job of stroking his length, spreading your juices and saliva down his shaft. he moans against your clit, impatiently exciting the sensitive bundle of nerves by attaching himself with powerful suction. you took hold of his lean thighs, body still in recovery from how strong the last orgasm had been.

seonghwa giggled as he studied the way you responded to every stimulus. he slipped three slender fingers inside your cunt and you instinctively began to ride his hand while taking his cock into your mouth. and you worked with desperate haste, relaxing your throat around his girth as best you could while he took control.

“cum for me, angel. you can do it,” seonghwa urged, his fingers pumping out of your hole at an unthinkable pace. his chest tightened—he’s definitely close, too. you felt him twitch inside you, coming up briefly for air before sinking down on his length one last time.

with your own release building up, you barely have time to comprehend seonghwa’s staggering movements before the familiar feeling of hot seed traveling down your throat made your own pussy clench around his fingers. for a moment, everything seemed drowned out by the roar of the shower as both of you rode out your orgasms in blissful silence. you let seonghwa fill up as much of your throat as he could before releasing him from your mouth, allowing the access to wash down the drain. seonghwa licked and sucked at your secretions, loving the way it dripped down his chin.

despite the running water, it made you both feel utterly filthy. seonghwa half expected hongjoong to come bursting through the door—though he’s both relieved and a bit disappointed when the door didn’t immediately open to reveal his short/tempered partner.

“god…i’m so fucking happy i decided to come here.” you said out loud to nobody in particular, hands massaging to soothe your aching cunt.

“me too, star. this has to stay a secret though, okay?” by the time you were able to gain a sense of reality, seonghwa was once again crouched beside you, washcloth hovering over you as he began cleaning you off—for real, this time.

you pouted playfully, “you sure? you don’t want to get that on camera next time?”

seonghwa chuckled, growing more endeared by your joviality with every passing second. “i’ll run that idea by the boss.”

if you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading!

masterlist

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feligayzed · 1 month ago

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Hello Sonic people, every 5 months I get possessed and scribble out drabbles! This one in particular is post-Frontiers sonadow flavored, I hope you enjoy 🙂‍↕️ featuring illustrations by my good pal @piliiiiconfusionf!!!! SHOW ER SOME LOVE RAHHHH

wc: 990

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was no secret that Sonic wasn't particularly fond of water. Hated the stuff would be a more accurate description of his feelings, and yet he couldn't find it fitting to use such a strong term when it was directly responsible for the circumstances he found himself in now.

The room he had grown accustomed to was dark, save for the cool tones casted by the fractured moon through the window. It was small, tidy, everything had a place they scarcely strayed from. It smelled faintly of lavender, with trace hints of freshly washed laundry and vanilla from the candle that had been put out ten, maybe fifteen minutes prior. An old-fashioned vanity took up one wall, decorated with copious amounts of skincare products, and plenty others Sonic couldn't even begin to place.

Most notably, however, was the rain that drummed endlessly against the window, their shadows dancing in a mesmerizing pattern across the ceiling.

And it was because of this, this wretched rain, that he found himself in Shadow's humble abode. Laid back in his bed. The otherwise closed-off, reserved hedgehog he knew Shadow to be tucked in close to his side, arm draped across his chest, his body rumbling with a deep purr that Sonic wasn't aware he was even capable of.

Sonic gazed listlessly up at the ghost remnants of rain, thinking of nothing at all really. His thumb moved absentmindedly in slow, circular motions through the tufts of fur behind Shadow's ear, his temple, his cheek. The gloves remained on, but the warmth the other radiated found its way through the fabric regardless.

His eyelids felt heavy.

But as it tends to go before one can slip into a peaceful slumber, Sonic found himself reflecting.

Because really, how did he get here? To put it crudely, what the hell happened?

He was never one to keep track of time, but if he had to guess, it had been about three months (give or take) since his dear baby brother decided to brave the world on his own.

It was a decision that had completely clotheslined Sonic, but what was he meant to do? Say no? Hah! If Tails wanted to prove himself “independent”, whatever that meant, who was he to deny him that opportunity. Self discovery was something Sonic was all about after all, and he couldn't be prouder of his bro. They really do grow up so fast.

And yet, as the storm clouds had rolled in, he didn't find himself retreating to the cover of their shared house.

In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had visited since Tails’ grand departure. There was a blockade there, somewhere in his mind, that prevented him from stepping foot in the place. He wasn't entirely sure why, and he didn't care to do any self-evaluation and find out. But that did nothing to negate the glaring truth of the reality staring (or rather, cuddling) him point blank in the face.

Sure, he couldn't deny the extended amount of “quality time” he spent with Team Dark nowadays (bless Rouge's heart, truly she was the salt of the Earth) but this felt different. Significant in some exhilarating, slightly off putting way he hesitated to place a finger on.

It wasn't even a thought, moreso second nature, that led him to Shadow's window as the showers came down.

He had found the Ultimate Lifeform already reclined in his pillows, old man reading glasses donned and a book with a thick spine held in his grasp. Whereas before Sonic's intrusion would be received with a fist to the face and an onslaught of uncouth words, Shadow merely raised a brow at him, and upon listening to Sonic's haphazard explanation, rolled his eyes and patted the spot next to him before returning to his story.

Sonic couldn't believe it at first. Maybe the weather had him all out of whack, and he was imagining things.

“Or, you know the couch is all yours.”

That definitely hadn't been imagined, and it had confirmed the absurdity beforehand.

It was clear what he had opted for.

He didn't think about why much, for fear of coming to conclusions he wasn't sure he was ready for.

But that was neither here nor there.

All in all, the past few months had been a confusing whirlwind of emotions and events he hadn't been prepared for, and one way or another the whirlwind had spat him out in his rival's arms, and he was content to leave it at that. At least for now.

He let out a slow breath, allowing his mind to slip into peaceful silence once more, the rain softer on his ears. His heart.

The body next to him sighed contentedly, the small gust of air soft against the crook of Sonic's neck. He couldn't help the small, blink-and-you-miss-it smile that pulled at his lips; the novelty of seeing Shadow at his most relaxed hadn't worn off, and after how many years of knowing the guy to be a prickly asshole, he'd wager it never would. It was so unnatural, the way he fully melted into Sonic's loose hold, his gentle face free of the scowl that contorted his features most of the time.

“Pretty” wasn't exactly the word he had expected to jump to the forefront of his mind, but he'd be damned if Shadow wasn't one of the prettiest sleepers he'd ever seen. Classic him, always having to be the best at everything.

A wave of sleepiness descended upon him then, and he bared his teeth in a wide, exaggerated yawn. Shuffling further down into the comforter, Sonic wrapped his arms around his loathsome faker, drawing him in closer, nuzzling the top of his velvety head as he let his laden eyelids close shut. Things would go back to normal in the morning, he'd take it.

Something about living in the moment, and he was fine adhering to the sentiment.

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #sonadow fanart #sonic #sth #sth fanart #sth fanfic #sonadow fanfic #pili's art #feli's art #<- i dont have a proper writing tag because i dont do it enough LMAO

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woncheolisms · 2 years ago

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kinktober 2023 -> day 11

strangers - iwaizumi hajime x reader

word count: 1,578

warnings: swearing, regular smut warnings, squirting, oral (m!receiving), iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer can make a girl lose her sanity and that’s canon in my head

kinktober masterlist

“Who’s this for?”

You eyed the murky golden liquid in the glass the bartender had just set down in front of you before looking up at him in question. The bartender jerked his head to the side in response.

“He says it’s on him.”

You followed his gaze over to the other side of the circular bar, eyes meeting with the man sitting there, alone like you were, staring directly back at you as if waiting for you to see him.

Your breath hitched. Oh, he was gorgeous.

The red lights in the club bounced off his frame, highlighting the built muscles stretching under his t-shirt. Half his face was in shadow, yet you could make out the strong jut of his jaw, the pierce of his stare, closely cropped spiky hair. He lifted a glass up to his lips, one that you followed eagerly with your eyes, and took a small sip. You gulped.

It took half an hour for him to slam your front door behind the two of you, pushing you into the wall with his frame before his lips met yours in a fiery kiss. You gasped and moaned into his mouth, tugging at his shirt like it was offending you, wanting nothing more than to rip it off and run your hands all over his body, feel how his muscles shifted and moved as he did unspeakable things to you-

“Fuck.” He groaned into your neck, teeth sinking into your skin as his hands slid under your skirt and grabbed handfuls of your ass so you would arch into him. You whined at the sting of his bite, feeling your core clench around nothing.

“T-take this off.” You whimpered until he pulled back, tugging his shirt off his to reveal beautiful expanse of bronzed skin. You wasted no time in running your fingers up his arms, the flex of his biceps, his shoulders, tense and ready. His abs clenched as you brushed over them, and you felt your mouth water when you touched the v-line that led to his pants.

“Wanna suck your cock.” You whispered, looking up at his face again. His eyebrows shot up in shock before a smirk tugged up the corner of his lips.

“And here I was, thinking you were one of the shy ones.” His voice was so husky that you moaned. He reached a hand up to tangle in your hair, pushing down on your head.

“C’mon then, sweetheart. Get on your knees.”

You nearly came.

You lowered yourself down, trembling hands undoing the button on his jeans, eyes never leaving the bulge that was struggling to get out from the confines of his clothes. Your eyes widened as you stared at his dick, long and thick and flushed in a furious maroon color. You could feel his smirk as he stared down at you, but your eyes never left his crotch. You licked your lips, unable to wait a second longer.

His groan was heavenly when you took him into your mouth, as far as he would go, too impatient to work him in properly. You didn’t take the time to slowly relax your throat around him. You were in no mood to go slow. You wanted to choke on him and have him fuck your face hard and rough until your mind was too foggy to register anything around you.

Why else would you hook up with a complete stranger?

“Jesus fuck.” The man swore, hand tightening in your hair and groaning loud when he hit the back of your throat, making you gag a bit as your eyes watered. You struggled to breathe through your nose, pushing forward again and moaning long and loud, nose brushing against the skin of his pelvis. A sharp tug immediately pulled you off his cock, making you gasp and whine at the loss. One more tug and you were stumbling onto your feet. You met his eyes then, breath hitching at how dilated his pupils were, at how his lids had fallen to half open, looking at you hungrily.

“You’re too good at that, princess.” He groaned, stepping forward so your body was once again pressed to the wall behind you. “But I wanna cum with my cock deep in your pussy instead.”

You moaned and flushed at his statement. The foul language coming from him was turning you on immensely, the thought of some unknown man stripping you of your clothes and talking about how your pussy would feel around his cock made you clench hard, feeling wetness run down your thighs. He hooked a hand behind your knee, pulling your leg up so you were spread for him, the other hand reaching up to run through your folds, making you whine and jerk up at the contact.

‘You’re soaked, baby.” He cooed, breath hot on your neck. The tip of his finger prodded at your entrance, and you moved into his touch, making him chuckle.

“I- please,” your voice trembled. “Please.”

He wrapped the leg he was holding around his waist, supporting your weight and lifting the other leg around him too, pressing you into the wall. His cock brushed your slit, head breaching your hole and making you arch into him.

“The name’s Hajime.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “Scream it, princess.”

With that, he slammed his cock into you.

You screamed and arched, breath knocked out of you when he wasted no time in picking up the speed, cock pounding into you over and over with no signs of stopping. Your hands shot up, trying to find purchase over the wide expanse of his sweaty back, nails digging into his skin. You cried and gasped, arching into the amazing feeling as his cock tore through you, hitting spots you didn’t even know you had, tingling nerves that had never been touched before, his skin sliding against your own and his breath hot on your neck.

“H-Hajime!” You weeped, one hand reaching up to clutch at his hair, unable to breathe properly when the head of his cock brushed against your sweet spot. You jerked and wailed at the feeling. His lips curled up into a smirk against your neck.

“Found it.” He whispered, angling his hips so it would hit the same spot over and over again. Tears streamed down your face and you shrieked, struggling against his hold, which only tightened, locked you in place so he could pound into you, stimulating every fiber of your body until your head was spinning, until it was too much-

“I’m gonna cum.” You choked out, nails digging so hard into his back that they broke the skin. But you didn’t care, not when your core was clenching around him for dear life, not when he was hitting your spot so wonderfully. And not when you knew what was going to happen when you came. You could feel it. This build up was too familiar to ignore.

“Hajime, I’m- I’m gonna make a mess.” You whined, feeling fresh tears pour from your eyes. He lifted his head from your neck, eyes meeting your wet ones. His pupils were blown. Sweat dripped from his forehead and his hair was sticking out in all directions. His cheeks held the most beautiful maroon flush you had ever seen. You felt your core tighten at the sight.

He smirked as he looked at you, at how destroyed you were. “You’re gonna make a mess?” He grunted, speed picking up even more. You screamed again.

“Yes!” You arched your back, eyes squeezing shut. You felt no shame in that moment, despite how dirty it was. Oh, it was filthy, warning this stranger who had his cock inside you that he was fucking you so good you were about to squirt on him. It made your eyes roll back. And all it did was turn you on more.

“Fuck.” He choked out. “Do it, baby. C’mon. Wanna feel you gush all over my cock. C’mon princess, cum all over me.”

And that’s all it took. You wailed as your vision blacked out, every muscle in your body seizing as you felt wetness gather all over your crotch and his. Your lungs refused to expand with air, choking and gasping as your body jerked and tensed, mind turned to mush at the intensity of your orgasm. You barely registered Hajime groaning and stilling, emptying himself into you and digging his teeth into your neck as you went limp in his arms.

All was silent for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breaths. You blinked a few times, trying to clear your vision. When your eyes met his again, he gave you a lazy smile.

“Wow.” His voice was raspy and broken. You choked out a laugh.

“We didn’t even make it to your bedroom.” He continued, pulling out of you and moving to set you down. Your legs gave out when your feet hit the ground, making Hajime tense and hold on to you tighter. You stared at each other for a few seconds before he snorted.

“Alright, c’mon Bambi.” He lifted you up again, bridal style, walking further into your house. He stopped in the middle of the living room, staring at you sheepishly. You laughed.

“Bathroom is the first door on the left.” You grinned at him. He started walking, a softer smile on his face.

“You never told me your name, princess.”

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 1 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran n @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

#kinktober #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime x y/n #iwaizumi hajime fanfiction #iwaizumi hajime imagines #iwaizumi hajime fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut

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whatever-lmaoo · 10 months ago

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Sweet Life Of Mine

Summary: Life works in mysterious ways and Bucky would go through it all again if it meant he’d get to experience the rest of it with you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x curvy!reader

CW: fluff, a bit of teasing, flashbacks are italicized and thoughts are in bold and italicized[2.4k]

A/N: As always the cute line dividers were made by @firefly-graphics 🌸 I’ve decided to turn this into a two-parter 🙂‍↔️ Special recognition to @buckys-wintersoldier without her encouragement I probably would’ve trashed this fic early on in the process😂 and @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me yap and helping me come up with ideas when I would get stuck😍I am so thankful for both of them and y’all should check out their works because they are wonderful!!!💖 With that being said this fic has grown on me a lot and I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do🥹 Dialogue is not my strong suite so I apologize if any of the lines sound corny🤧 I don’t give anyone permission to copy, translate or repost my works on here or other sites😊 Comments and constructive feedback is always appreciated!!

Bucky absentmindedly breaks down the last few cardboard boxes, taking in your newly furnished living room. Photos of you and your respective families are scattered along the walls and on top of your antique furniture. Plants strategically placed around the room and the gorgeous lamps you picked out created a welcoming atmosphere.

He throws the last box on top of his makeshift pile, wondering how all of the broken roads of his life led him to this moment, how he got his dream girl, a woman who accepted him with his baggage and loved the parts of him that he deemed unpleasant, physically and mentally. It all felt so surreal to him.

As the time grew closer for the wedding to start, Bucky couldn’t help but pace his dressing room floor. He occasionally looked in the mirror to fix his hair or wipe his face with another paper towel before throwing it away in the almost-filled trash can. He felt like his throat was constricted and began fidgeting with his tie. Eventually, he gave up and hunched over a table, trying to remind himself that everything was okay.

The weight of a hand rubbing his back, slowly grounded him for a moment. Steve’s voice sounded muffled in his ears but grew clearer as Bucky took in deeper breaths and continued to focus on the circular motion of Steve’s movements. “Buck, do you want me to get her for you?” The small “please” he lets out is all it takes for Steve to rush to your room.

Bucky stood up and grabbed a bottle of water from on top of a dresser. He was almost finished with it when a soft knock caught his attention.

“Baby?” You say opening the door slightly and sticking your hand through the gap. A clammy palm rests on yours as you massage his knuckles with your thumb, imprinting your touch in his mind, a silent reminder that you’ll always be there when he needs you.

“You ready to be stuck with me for life, Hotshot?” You tease, grinning as you hear him let out a quiet laugh.

"I should be asking you that, Gorgeous,” he breathes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for something than I am at the thought of marrying you. I’m just worried that I’ll somehow mess this up or this is one big dream. I’m afraid that at any second I’ll wake up in a cold sweat and find myself sitting on that old apartment floor, where instead of hearing that lovely voice of yours, it’ll be the older lady next door yelling because she muted her TV again or the loud honks from angry New Yorkers." He rests his head against the door and clutches the doorknob with his metal hand.

“Can you feel that, Bubba?” you say, placing his hand on your chest, feeling the rapid rhythm of your heart beating against his fingertips. “My heart beats like this when I see or listen to you. When I think about being able to wear your ring on my finger, taking your last name, and one day being the mother of your children. My heart beats for you, Bucky, and that's one of the realest feelings I've ever experienced.”One thing Bucky loves about you is you’ve never judged him for expressing his fears, and you’re always there to support him when his insecurities eat away at his progress.

He can hear Natasha's distant voice calling for you and smiles softly.

“I’ve got to head back for last-minute touch-ups, but I’ll see you at the end of the aisle, right?” You reach for his hand on your chest, gently kissing his palm before reconnecting your hands together.

“I’ll be there waiting for you. I love you, Gorgeous.” He squeezes your hand, running his thumb over your fingers.

“I love you too, Hotshot.” And with that, you slip your hand from his loose grip and through the door, your hurried steps echoing in the hall. Steve enters a moment later, noticing that the previous tension in Bucky’s body has almost completely disappeared.

“Let’s go make you a married man, Buck.”

“What are we waiting for, punk,” Bucky says, slapping him on the back playfully, laughing with each other as they walk out of the room, ready to make his dreams come true.

“Hey Gorgeous, I’ve got a question for you.” Bucky groans out as he starts straightening up his mess.

“Ask away, Hotshot.” You utter, your voice resounding slightly in the foyer as you hang up a picture of the two of you on your wedding night.

Humming along to the soft music from the living room while admiring how Bucky’s skin glowed under the golden hues from the sparklers your friends and family surrounded the two of you with. You can still feel the love radiating from him just by looking at his tender smile and remembering how his deep blue eyes twinkled with fondness as he gazed at you with his arms wrapped around your waist.

“How do you feel about going on a date tomorrow?” You smile at the steady sound of footsteps approaching you. A pair of hands enclose your wide hips, and Bucky’s chin rests on your shoulder as he inhales the pleasant scent of your perfume.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Bubs.” The warmth of his breath sends a shiver through your body, and you can feel your cheeks heating up as he places a sweet kiss below your ear.

“Where are you going to take me?” You ask, grabbing his hands and placing them on your plush belly, leaning back in his embrace.

“Let’s see, I could take you to the movies, an amusement park, or maybe a pumpkin patch. The possibilities are endless.” You hear his grin before you see it, turning your head towards him.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” A pout forms on your face, and you twist in his arms as he straightens up, clasping your hands together behind his neck.

“You would be correct, Gorgeous,” he says, smirking and pecking your lips. You hope he didn’t notice the slight widening of your eyes as an idea popped into your head.

“How am I supposed to know what to wear if I don’t know where we’re going?” You ask sweetly, letting your fingertips play with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’ll pick out something for you.” Your head tilts and eyebrows raise in amusement.

“You…are going to choose what I wear?” Bucky rolls his eyes and licks his lower lip in thought.

“Are you questioning my fashion sense, Doll? If I remember correctly, you wear my clothes more than I do.” His hands slip down to the top of your ass drawing your body in even closer, and you roll your eyes this time.

“You’ve never put together an outfit for me before, and I like wearing your clothes because they’re comfortable and smell like you.”

“Don’t want that pretty little head of yours worrying about a thing tomorrow. And I’m not complaining; they look better on you than on me. You make anything you wear look amazing, especially when it's in white.” A warm smile is plastered across his face, his eyes darting up to the photo behind you, another memory from the best day of his life playing in his mind like an old film.

“Do I look alright? Am I beginning to smell?” Bucky questions Steve and Sam as he tries to smoothen out his already-perfect suit jacket. The chattering from the guests did little to calm his nerves.

“You’re lookin’ snazzy, Bucknasty,” Sam says, giving Bucky a lighthearted slap on his ass.

"You look great, Buck." Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, bringing him into a tight hug. "I'm proud of you, man." He whispers, giving Bucky a brotherly kiss on the side of his head and a pat on his back as he lets go. He thanks the both of them before turning back around, eyes scanning the crowd as he tries to grasp the idea that all of these people are there for the both of you.

Bucky couldn't take his eyes off the door as the orchestra played the familiar tune of the song you chose for your entrance. After all the practices and months spent planning for this moment, nothing could prepare him for the overwhelming feeling he got when the ushers revealed your figure standing at the opposite end of him.

His bottom lip quivered, and he began to blink rapidly, but his gaze never strayed away from you. The dress you picked was beautiful, the shade of white complementing your complexion, and the way it hugged you in all the right places made you look like a goddess in his eyes.

He hadn't realized he was crying until you cupped his damp cheek in your palm, gently wiping away his tears while your own began to well in your eyes.

"Hi," you whispered through your watery smile, and it took everything in him not to crash his lips against yours.

You lightly glide your fingers down the side of his face, beaming up at him, already knowing where his train of thought took him. Gently tapping the side of his glasses, you watch as he slowly comes back to you, the affection in his eyes creating a warmth inside you that only he can ignite.

You wrap your arms around his midsection, and he kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head, holding you against his body a little tighter.

“I think I look good in white too.” You say casually, a giggle escaping the two of you.

“Oh, yeah?” He says, a crooked smirk forming on his face, and you pull away slightly. A smirk of your own playing on your lips as you lean up next to his ear.

“So much so that I could be convinced to recreate the boudoir photos I gave you.” You take his earlobe between your teeth, pulling slightly, a low growl rumbles in his chest, and you do your best to keep your thighs from clenching. Bucky’s hands cup your ass as he lifts you in his arms.

“I’m sure it won’t take much to persuade you, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes at his cockiness, causing him to chuckle as he connects your lips, blindly making his way to your bedroom.

You felt a sense of tranquility despite the chilly breeze nipping at your exposed skin as you strolled through the desolate yet animated park. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind and the soft chirping of crickets fill your ears, while you watch the beautiful glow of fireflies encircling the bushes lining the pathway.

You admire the way the clear water of the pond shimmers softly in the moonlight as you take a seat on your favorite bench. Your eyes close and the tension in your body slowly fades as you allow yourself to enjoy Mother Nature and the safe feeling she provides you.

The hairs on your arms stand up as an unsettling feeling washes over you, and the squelching of grass confirms your fears of not being alone. You open your eyes, turning your head, searching for the source that disturbed your peace. Your eyes land on a figure standing at the edge of the pond.

He must have felt your stare because the next thing you know, a pair of striking blue eyes connects with yours. He watches you curiously as you assess whether he's a threat, and a ghost of a smile crosses his lips when he notices the slight drop in your shoulders before turning his gaze back to the still water.

Your lip rolls between your teeth as you consider leaving. You stand and start to walk away, but then you hear the stranger speak.

“You don’t have to leave.” He says, and you turn around after a lengthy moment of stillness, wondering if you should trust him. You observe his relaxed stance, face devoid of malice, but it's his captivating eyes that draw you in and tug at your heartstrings.

There was a silent plea within them, a look you've grown used to seeing in the mirror over the years. Hoping for someone to fill the kind of emptiness that comes with having experienced too much, even if only for a short while.

You stand in silence as a family of ducks begins to swim by. A twinge of pain surges through your chests, as you both watch the last one struggle to keep up, feeling like Mother Nature is reminding you that you were once in similar positions.

The wind grows colder, causing you to cross your arms in an attempt to conserve body heat. He notices this and starts to rid himself of his leather jacket.

“What are you doing?” You squeak out, taking a step back.

“Relax, you’re obviously cold and I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I let you stand there shivering.” You go to protest but he’s already wrapping his jacket around your arms.

“I’m not supposed to take things from strangers.” You exclaim, although, grateful for the makeshift shield against the cool weather.

“What are you? Ten? Would you feel better if I gave you my name?” He mocks and your eyes roll.

It’s always the pretty ones that are annoying.

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” He says, your eyes grow wide and your mouth gapes open.

I didn't mean to say that out loud.

“Fuck off. I think you’re annoying too.” He barks out a laugh at that, startling you slightly, you turn your head away from him feeling a small grin make its way to the surface.

“The name’s James, but you can call me Bucky, or pretty if that’s what you want.” He winks and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you tell him your name.

“Gorgeous name for an even more gorgeous girl,” he pauses as his phone goes off and a deep sigh leaves his lips when he checks the notification.

“I hate to depart like this, but duty calls.” He says backing away slowly, waving his phone in his hand. You go to give him his jacket, but he starts making a disapproving noise.

“I’m not supposed to take things from strangers, Gorgeous.” A sly smirk forms on his face before he spins around, gradually disappearing from your line of sight.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself, pulling the leather around you tighter as you begin to head back to your car, wondering if you’ll ever run into him again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #my writings🌸

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nakidoriii · 3 months ago

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See you later, Mr. President (part 4)

Hawks X Reader Mini Series

FIND PARTS 1-3 HERE

Warnings: Adult themes, Smut and Anxiety, || MDNI

**cliff hanger at the end**

This morning was like any other morning. You did your normal commute to work. The weather was exceptionally nice, cherry blossoms in full bloom. You greeted the people you work beside, as you typically do. You open your office door to reveal a custom arrangement of cymbidium orchids, calla lilies and hydrangeas sitting on your desk.

“This has to be a mistake…” You mumble to yourself as you set your bags down.

The bouquet was so gorgeous that you were afraid to touch it. The flowers were in a circular shaped vase. You notice a note sticking out from the middle of the arrangement.

‘For my pretty girl’

Blood rushes to your face as you realize that Keigo bought you this expensive arrangement of flowers. What’s the occasion for? More importantly, why would he do this at work? You put the note on your desk and march up to his office. His receptionist wasn’t there yet so you knocked on his office door.

“Hey Gorgeous.” Keigo says in his usual playful tone.

You push him into the office and close the door behind you. You stand in front of him with your arms crossed.

“What?” He says clueless as to why you seem upset with him.

You shake your head in disappointment and ask, “Why did you send an expensive bouquet of flowers to my OFFICE?”

This question somehow led to Kiego fucking you up against the wall. He held you up by your thighs as he thrusted into you. He licks up the side of your neck, right before he says, “You’ve been mine for a whole month now, sweetheart” in your ear.

That’s why he sent the flowers, you guys have been seeing each other for a month as of today. I guess that also explains why he felt the need to fuck you senseless in his office. You thought it was sweet he remembered something so small like that. It really shows you that he wants to be more than just fuck buddies. He carries you over to his desk and lays your back down on the cold wood. He thrusts deep and slow to avoid the sound of your ass clapping.

“You’re taking me so well, Y/N. You’re so good to me.” He added in a low whisper.

You could tell he was close and so were you. His fingers pressed into your waist as he pulled you on his dick. His pace began to pick up and he didn’t care about being quiet at this moment. His dick was slipping in and out of you until he filled you with his thick load. You both curse under your breath as he pulls out.

“I know you didn’t cum. I’ll take care of you after work.” He says as he slides out of you. “Stay right there.”

He walks over to the bathroom that’s in his office and grabs paper towels to wipe up his mess. You both get yourselves together quickly.

“I think it’s sweet you remembered the day.” You say while fixing your dress.

“Someone needed to. You didn’t.” He teases.

“Because I didn’t think you saw our relationship like that.” You rebuttal.

“Oh please, you know exactly how I feel about you, Y/N. One of the first things I said to you that night at the bar was, ‘you look like my girlfriend.’ I’m not here to waste your time.” He says with a stern voice.

He's not wrong. He’s been an open book about his feelings and he keeps applying the pressure. This whole month, he’s been sending you small gifts and love letters since you two can’t be seen in public.

“I know, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just in shock from how forward you’re being. Like I said, it’s been awhile since I’ve dated or been interested in anyone. And besides, you know I’m not staying in Japan long. Why are you putting so much into this short term thing?” You finally address the elephant in the room.

He kisses your forehead and says, “Because I’m an optimistic guy.” He smiles at you when he sees your face is completely straight because he did not answer your question in the slightest. You knew he was being honest though.

You hit his shoulder and say, “I should get back to my office, Mr. President.”

“One more thing. I want you to come over tonight.” He says leaning back against his desk.

You had never been to his place before. You always wondered what it looked like. Does he have an apartment or a house? Any pets? You can get a good sense of who he is by how he lives.

“Text me your address and what time. I’ll see you later, Mr. President.” You say with a slight smirk on your face.

Once you leave the office, Keigo lets out a, “yes!” under his breath. He honestly didn’t know how that was going to go. He had never sent you an expensive gift in public like that. He knew you’d be mad at first but he also knew he could calm you down. He loved that you were fiery and that you had no problem setting him straight. The thing he loved the most is the contrast from you at work and you outside of work. At work, you’re the textbook definition of professional. You’re hard working, smart, and a great leader that always dressed the part. Well, you teetered on the line of dressing appropriately sometimes. You’d wear these tight clothes that Keigo would often think about you in. Which is why he wanted to see you outside of work. He wants to see more of the real you.

**************************************************

“Those flowers are lovely, Y/N. You got a secret admirer?” your coworker asks as you carry the bouquet out of your office.

“No, haha. The company I work for sent them to me for doing a good job.” You lie.

“Awe, they care so much. How lovely. Let me get the door for you.” He says as he opens the front door for you to head out.

“Thank you so much. Have a good night. Mata ashita (see you tomorrow).” You stand on the side of the road waiting for the taxi you called not too long ago.

You start to ponder on what you’re gonna wear for your date tonight with the President. Something sexy or something chill? You know that he loves the way you dress. He’s admitted it a few times during sex.

“Keep the dress on, I want to fuck you in it.”

You start to get wet thinking about the filthy things he’s said to you. You can't deny the fact that you adore the way he speaks to you. You’re like putty in his hands if he says the right things to you and he always does. You get into your taxi and head to the hotel you call home. Your phone vibrates in your hand.

Mr. President: Here’s my address. You’re welcome to come over at 20:00. Wear something pretty for me.

Just reading that text message makes you blush. You really like Keigo but you hate the cards you were dealt. You wish that you didn’t have to sacrifice anything to be with him. He’s been pouring so much affection into you and this situationship. The least you could do is show him who you are outside of work.

“Tōchaku shimashita (we have arrived).” The driver says, pulling me out of contemplation.

“Arigatou Gozaimasu.” You say as you get out of the taxi.

You hurry up to your hotel room, taking off your shoes the moment you get in the room. You place the vase of flowers on your desk and start changing your clothes. You had picked out a cheetah print maxi skirt that hugged your curves perfectly. For your top, you chose a black low cut halter top that hugged your waist. Your body was on display in this outfit even though you were mostly covered. You only have about an hour and a half to get ready. You turn on your favorite album, to get yourself in the right headspace. As you’re getting ready, your best friend from home calls you. You grab your laptop and bring it into the bathroom as you accept the call.

“Mira!! Hi my love, how are you!!” you exclaim as you fix your makeup in the mirror.

“I’m doing good! I miss you so much, it’s unreal.” She whines.

Mirlande (Mira) had been your best friend since you were in grade school. She was more like a sister than a friend though. You two practically lived at each other's houses growing up. Your families were similar in every way: they were from the same island so it was the same culture. It was so nice having her when your family moved to America.

“I miss you so much, girl. It’s been crazy being apart from you for so long.” You stop doing your makeup and get a good look at her.

She smiles at you and says, “Getting ready to see Mr. President?”

You scoff and say “How’d you know?”

“Look at what you're wearing, you’re looking extra slutty!! The man is already down bad for you.” Mira screams.

You start laughing and say, “Good, Right where I want his ass.”

You and Mira catch up as you finish getting ready. You show her the vase of flowers he got for you and she tells you about her situationships. Once you check the time, you realize you're running late.

“Ahhh, Mira I gotta go!! I’m late as fuck. I was supposed to leave 20 minutes ago.” You whine as you grab your black leather jacket, purse and slip on your open toe black kitten heels.

“Okay, love you! Tell me how it goes. Get some dick for the both of us!!” She says before ending the call.

You laugh and roll your eyes at her statement. You quickly spray yourself with your signature scent and scurry down to the lobby. Your phone begins to ring, and of course it’s Keigo.

You answer the phone and say, “Hey.”

“Hey, have you left yet?” He asks.

“No, my taxi should be here in 5 minutes though. I’m running a few minutes late. So sorry. ”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. Cancel the taxi. I sent a driver for you. She should be pulling up right now.”

Just as he said, a black vehicle parks right in front of the hotel. The driver gets out and holds up a sign with your name.

“Yes, I see her. Walking over to her now.” You are completely shocked as you walk towards the car. You speak the little Japanese that you know to inform her that you’re the person she is picking up. She opens the door for you and you get into the car.

“You in?” Keigo asks.

“Yes, thank you for this. You really didn't need to go through the trouble.” You express.

“Don’t give me that, Y/N. Anything I do for you causes me no trouble. I can't take you anywhere in public right now so I will make this as extravagant as I can. I’ll see you soon, okay?” He says in an alluring voice.

“Thank you, baby.” You heard his breath hitch over the phone as he heard those sweet words fall from your lips. This was the first time you addressed Keigo in an informal way…outside of sex. You smile knowing that he’s probably a blushing mess.

“Anything for you.” He says softly.

You hang up the phone and calm your nerves the whole ride to his house. You weren’t nervous at all. If anything you were smitten by him. Your heart began to beat harder the closer you got. You placed your hand on your chest and took a deep breath as you pulled into his property. You saw him standing out by his front door wearing a black knit collared shirt and khaki trousers. He walks up to the car door and opens it. You get out of the car, not breaking eye contact with him. He places his hand on the small of your back as he whispers, “hi pretty” in your ear. You smile and say “hi” back. He closes the car door and waves at the driver as she pulls out from the driveway.

“Thank you for having me.” You say as he walks you to the front door.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He says as he opens the door for you.

His place is exactly as you thought it would be. Beautiful high ceilings with a lot of space. The living room had wood paneling behind the mounted tv aligned with a wall of windows with a gorgeous view. The sectional was low to the ground and sat up against the wall of windows. You could tell his home was decorated with intention. (Picture)

“Your home is so nice. I really love how it’s decorated.” You say slipping off your heels.

“Thanks. I hired an interior designer because I’ve never decorated a home before. She made me take a bunch of quizzes and this is what she came up with.” He says walking into his living room. He turns towards you and says, “I’ll give you a tour later.”

You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. Your breasts pressed against his chest as you closed the gap between the two of you. He can’t help but to lightly blush at how forward you were being. He rests his hands on your lower back and butt. You get goosebumps at his touch, causing you to giggle. You smile and say “Can’t wait.”

Keigo couldn’t believe you were willingly in his arms right now. Getting you to cooperate felt like pulling teeth to him. For the first time, he feels like he’s getting to know the real you and not the work version of you.

“I think it’s time I show you what I planned.” He says while kissing your arm. He takes your hand and walks you over to his kitchen. He quickly gets behind you and covers your eyes with his hands.

“Get ready for an amazing, authentic, delicious, experience, Y/N.” He says dramatically.

He uncovers your eyes to reveal an at home yakiniku set up. You gasp, look back at him and say, “Yakiniku!!! How did you know I wanted to try this?”

“Just a hunch.” He says with a slick smile. It wasn’t just a hunch, it was a lot more than just a hutch. Even though Keigo doesn’t have his feathers anymore, that doesn’t mean his nasty habit of eavesdropping is gone. He still has insanely sharp eyes and ears, even after the war.

“Hmm, Is it the same hutch you developed while doing spy work?” You say knowing he definitely eavesdropped on a conversation you had at work.

“Yea, you could say that.” He says knowing he can’t hide anything past you. He knew you were just as smart as him, maybe even more intelligent than him.

He pulls out a barstool from his kitchen island for you to take a seat. The set up was actually really cute. It was a tiny counter grill surrounded by different plated meats, marinades, and sauces. He even had a few veggies chopped and sliced to be grilled as well. He plugs the grill in and turns it on to make sure it’s hot. You take a seat and watch him move around his kitchen.

“What would you like to drink? I have wine, sake, tea, really anything.” He says as he grabs a beer for himself.

“Do people usually drink beer with yakiniku?” you ask.

“Yea but you don’t have to.” He says knowing that you are not a fan of beer.

“I’ll have a beer. I’ll try it!” You say optimistically.

He grabs you a beer from the fridge and comes to sit next to you. He opens the beer and hands it to you and says, “If you don’t like it, I’ll finish it.”

You take the bottle and agree. Keigo starts telling you the name of all the meats and sauces. You wanted to start off with some veggies, pork belly, yakitori, and thin sliced beef. You grab the tongs and start helping him add the meats to the grill. You could tell from the smell that the meat was marinated beforehand. As you wait for the meat to cook, you and Keigo start talking about quirks. Kiego wanted to know if you had one but never found the right time to ask.

“Do you have a quirk?” He straight up asks.

You raise your eyebrows and take a sip of the beer you’re struggling to get through. Keigo laughs and says, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to and you also don't need to drink that beer, Y/N.”

“I’ll tell you, it’s nothing flashy. I have a really high IQ, that’s pretty much it.” You say ignoring his beer statement.

“That explains why I can’t get anything past you. Beauty and brains, huh?” He says while getting up and pouring a cup of Umeshu, knowing that’s what you prefer.

You slightly blush as he compliments you and pours you a glass of your favorite wine that he conveniently had on hand. You take the meat off the grill and take the wine from him. He takes your beer and puts it next to his. You thank him once again for the food and start eating together. He places more meat on the grill as you two drink, eat, and get to know each other. The conversation is going great, you feel completely at ease with him at this moment.

*BZZZZ*

Both your phones go off, simultaneously. You both ignore them and continue the conversation.

*BZZZZ*

Once again, both phones go off. You stare at each other and agree to answer them. You grab your phone and step into the bathroom. He grabs his phone and goes into his living room. You see that it’s your best friend, Mira, calling you.

“Are you okay?” You say answering the phone.

“Yea I am. Are you sitting down? You need to sit down, Y/N.” She said in a panic.

You take a seat on the closed toilet and say, “I’m sitting. What’s going on?”

“Go look at what I texted you.”

You put her on speaker and quickly navigate to your messages with her. It’s video footage that’s clearly pulled from a surveillance camera in an elevator. You click play and see Keigo walking in the elevator. Your heart starts pounding in your chest as you realize where this is from. Your stomach began to twist in knots as you saw yourself walk into the elevator. You were frozen in place as you continued watching the footage. Someone leaked the footage of the President making out with you, put it on the internet AND IT’S GOING VIRAL.

Yall….. what can I say I LOVE a cliff hanger. I feel bad because Keigo is just trying to get to know you and now he has pulled you into this mess. Anywayyyyy, how are we liking it????? Heheheh

Stay tuned for part 5! Things really about to pop off.

Do not steal or alter any of my writings ©️

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pcr-alice · 8 months ago

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DPxDC - The Bat Key

there were a few posts going around a bit ago about Danny being Bruce's mentor in his early years, and they planted this idea in my head. i mixed in some cryptid danny for fun and to fit the halloween vibe. also on ao3

Batman grunted in pain as he hurried down the dark, townhouse-lined sidewalk. The cloudy night blocked the moonlight, and the lamps along the entire street were out, but they still moved between the shadows under the trees. The slash wound in his side was painful to the point that he had an arm around Robin’s shoulder to prop himself up. He scowled with each grunt. At least the blade hadn’t been spiked with venom. The same couldn’t be said for Red Robin’s wound. He was barely conscious, and Nightwing had to practically carry him. But they had finally made it here.

“Door.”

Nightwing hobbled up the few steps to the small porch and leaned against the wall to help hold some of Red Robin’s weight. Robin rushed to the door, already pulling a pick set from his utility belt. Batman managed to ascend the few steps himself, double checking the 13 to the side of the door.

“Wait.”

Robin scowled once again, but he complied. Batman pulled a small strip of metal from the lining of his utility belt. The tip was cut into a jagged, hooked pattern. He slipped it behind the bat symbol on his chest from underneath and twisted it a half spin. When he slid it back out, there was a house key attached to the end. Once free, he inserted it into the deadbolt and removed his hand. The temperature immediately dropped. Batman sighed in relief.

“What are –”

Robin’s question died before it was finished as the key began glowing green. It slowly rotated itself with the sound of grinding gears until a click echoed from behind the door.

“Oh great, I’m hallucinating” Red Robin wheezed out.

Batman turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“In.”

Robin entered first, crouched and alert. Nightwing followed, Red Robin draped over his shoulders. Batman took one more look around and spotted one of their assailants across the street, staring with their two glowing yellow eyes. He held the gaze for a silent few seconds, tension slowly leaving his body as they remained deathly still, then stepped inside and closed the door.

The large circular window high above the door lit the entryway with moonlight from the clear night sky. A staircase on the left led up into the dark, its railing marking out a small hallway balcony above. To their right was a small table, empty except for an unlit lamp. Past that on the same wall was an archway that led to a dark room pierced just enough by the moonlight for a large couch to be visible. The hallways straight ahead stretched into void.

“Couch.”

Once again, Robin entered first, disappearing into the shadows to scout the room. Nightwing lugged Red Robin into the room and laid him down on the couch to examine his wound. Batman followed and watched over the back of the couch.

“Bruce.”

Robin spun and threw a knife at the voice.

His senses had been honed to perfection since as long ago as he could remember. From the age of eight the only two members of the League who were capable of sneaking up on him were his blood relations. Now that he was out, Cain was alone on that list. Not even Batman could go unnoticed. Whatever this voice was, it managed to surprise him. But the League taught him to have no weaknesses, so even if his senses failed him, his reflexes could pick up the slack. The best tutors known to man had trained him with strict discipline, instilling perfect form and pinpoint accuracy that he could replicate from a dead sleep in pitch black darkness, all before he had even formed a single thought.

All together, this meant his blade was in the air before he could even parse what was said or what tone it was said with. When he realized that the voice had called Father by his civilian name in a calm greeting, he realized he made a mistake. But luckily, the voice wasn’t injured. Nor even startled.

“Danny.” Bruce greeted back.

This Danny had caught the knife by its handle well in front of his chest with what Robin evaluated to be his off-hand. Bright blue eyes pierced through the darkness straight to his position. They glowed in the darkness despite emitting no light, almost like a cat’s but without a source to reflect. If he had to guess, this unknown was a bit older than Red Robin. A bit taller, too. His deep black hair was unkempt, as if he had just been in a windstorm, sticking up at gravity-defying angles. He wore a dark robe made of fine material, not quite up to League wear standards, but too formal for a nightgown.

Robin cautiously stepped out of the darkness toward the others. Danny’s squinted eyes followed him, head angling slightly as it rotated to track his movement. Then they flicked away to look at Nightwing and squinted further. After a scant two seconds that stretched far too long, he raised his other hand to push his sleeve up, revealing a cheap plastic Batman-themed digital watch with a bright blue rubber strap.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” He murmured.

He pushed his sleeve further to reveal another, different watch, analog and much more elegant with a black strap most likely made of leather. It looked like something Father would wear to a gala. His eyebrows raised as he looked at it.

“Late, too.”

Batman grunted. Danny dropped his arms to his side, grip loose on the knife. He dipped his head at Damain and looked at Batman.

“My son, Damian.”

Damian tensed at the revealed information.

“He’s sharper than you were.”

“Being raised in an assassin cult will do that to you.”

Damian tensed even more despite the relaxed familiarity, almost teasing tone, that Batman fell into. Danny hummed a deep note and nodded his head toward Nightwing.

“Dick?”

“Nightwing.”

“And the one bleeding all over my couch?”

“Red Robin. Tim. Also my son, not by blood.”

Danny hummed again and lazily tossed the knife into the air toward Robin (who easily caught it, of course) as he walked to the other side of the couch. His movement made no noise whatsoever. Nightwing stepped back cautiously, positioning himself to step between Danny and Red Robin at a moment’s notice.

“What kind of poison?”

“We don’t know.”

He sat down on the edge of the couch to look down at Red Robin but paused as he was leaning down. Instead, he pushed up his sleeve again, and the watches were gone. In their place was some sort of wrist computer that took up half his forearm. The screen was covered in undecipherable text and was surrounded by several buttons marked with hieroglyphics. Robin narrowed his eyes and gripped another knife behind his cape.

“If you throw another blade, I’m confiscating all of them.”

“Stand down, Robin.”

He scowled but let go of the knife. Danny looked to Batman.

“You seem to be getting a call, Bruce. You can take it in the entryway.”

Batman nodded and walked back out the archway, tapping his comm.

“Oracle. We’re safe for now. Red Robin is being treated for poison”

Robin and Nightwing watched him go, turning back after a brief second, only to flinch into defensive stances.

The entire room had changed. It was now lit by a blazing fireplace with a large coffee table between it and the couch where Danny and Red Robin were situated. The table was covered in supplies – glass bottles with colored liquid, mason jars filled with water and fruit and herbs, bowls of nuts, trays of fruit, plates of granola balls, and stacks of labeled first aid kits.

They each stole a look back to Batman, who kept speaking over his comm, not bothered in the slightest.

“I know you can’t. Have the others pull back.”

He flashed them the hand signal for safe.

“I’ll explain when we return. Hour at most.”

They focused back on Danny to see that he had a much larger first aid kit open on the floor next to him and was skimming his fingers across Red Robin’s forehead, brushing his hair away.

“Oh, this one’s cute,” Tim slurred, and he was Tim now, his mask resting on his chest.

Danny snorted and shifted Tim’s uniform away from the slice in his side. He wiped the blood away with some bandages and tilted his head in confusion. He lifted a bloody finger to stare at it. His eyes squinted and he brought the finger up to his nose, where he gave it a sniff. A low growl vibrated through the room, and Robin gripped his knife again. Danny tapped the bloody finger to his tongue, and Robin threw his knife. Or he would have, had Batman not caught his arm.

“Well?” Batman asked.

“It’s a good thing you brought him here,” Danny responded, voice deeper than even Batman’s, “No one should have access to this.”

He raised his other hand and a glowing green post-it note shimmered into existence in his palm. He flicked his wrist toward Nightwing, offering the note to him between two fingers. It was now covered in tiny writing, just as indecipherable as his wrist computer had been.

“Take this into the greenhouse,” he nodded to a door behind Nightwing that had almost certainly not been there before, “Give it to the Gardener; she’ll get you what you need.”

Nightwing hesitantly took the note and looked to Batman, who nodded to him and began walking to one of the chairs next to the couch. He stepped backwards to the door and cracked it open, giving them all one more glance before slipping inside and closing it gently behind him.

Batman slipped his cowl off and grabbed one of the bottled drinks, twisting the cap off and taking a large sip.

“I’ve tried countless times to replicate this flavor, all of them unsuccessful.”

“It’s made with long-extinct fruits, Bruce. I’d be impressed if you managed it.”

Bruce grunted as the door behind him opened and Nightwing stepped in, looking slightly shell-shocked, carrying two small jars and no post-it note.

“Took you long enough,” Danny scolded while gesturing him over.

He handed the jars over and sat down in the chair opposite Bruce, squinting in confusion at his lack of cowl and relaxed snacking. Robin slid into place next to him, still tense and on guard.

Danny unscrewed one of the jars and stuffed a roll of bandages inside before screwing the lid back on. He tossed it to Bruce without looking (who easily caught it, of course) and unscrewed the lid off the other jar.

“Help yourselves, by the way,” he vaguely gestured toward Robin and Nightwing with his head and pointed to the table with his elbow.

Bruce shook his jar and pulled some of the bandages out, sliding them underneath his suit around his wound. Danny scooped a finger’s worth of paste out of his jar and spread it over Red Robin’s wound. He screwed the cap back on and tossed the jar to Bruce just as the other one came flying back to him. They were both easily caught, of course.

Despite the initial hiss of pain, Red Robin’s whole body had been relaxing since the paste had been applied. His eyes slowly opened while Danny was cleaning his hands off and flicked around the room in a quick assessment.

“Who’s this?”

“Danny.” Bruce supplied.

Red Robin looked around the room slowly this time, taking in Bruce’s cowl-less head, the half-drunken jar of colored drink in front of him, the pile of nuts in his hand, Nightwing’s slightly traumatized face and awkward posture, Robin’s irritated scowl and distrustful glare, and he groaned loudly.

“Please tell me this isn’t another Selina situation. He’s like my age.”

“Bold of you to assume my age and gender.” Danny deadpanned.

Red Robin gaped back.

“I met Danny when I was first starting out as Batman.”

“When he was what, eight?” Dick blurted.

“Still with the assumptions,” Danny muttered to himself.

“We thank you for your assistance...Danny.”

Robin was stiff and formal and struggled through the Danny. But that didn’t stop Danny from giving him a slight smile. He looked down at Red Robin then up at Nightwing then finally back at Bruce.

“I like them,” he declared, grabbing a jar of water off the table.

Bruce grunted as Danny unscrewed the lid and handed it to Red Robin.

“Danny has not aged since we first met.”

“Not exactly, but whatever,” Danny mumbled as he tidied up the first aid kit.

Nightwing opened his mouth as if to speak but shook his head and kept quiet. Robin stepped forward to grab a banana off the table with a polite nod to Danny. Red Robin stared down at the jar in his hands. It was full of cold water with a thick slice of pineapple and sprig of mint. After a quick glance to Bruce, he took a sip that turned into a gulp that turned into him emptying the jar in one go and releasing a contented sigh afterwards.

“Do you know anything about the Court of Owls?” Bruce asked.

A tremor shook the house. Bruce tensed in reflex but didn’t leave his chair after a glance to Danny. Nightwing leapt to his feet. Robin slid backwards and drew a blade. Red Robin jolted up and winced through the half-eaten pineapple slice in his mouth. There was a tense silence for several seconds.

“Only that they are not welcome in Gotham,” Danny eventually replied.

After a few more seconds of silence, Danny flicked his eyes to the fireplace mantle as a small object tipped itself over. Nightwing shot his hand out and snatched it out of the air before it could hit the ground. He opened his fist and looked at a miniature gargoyle statue in confusion.

“I may have to become involved,” Danny nodded to Nightwing, who gently replaced the gargoyle on the mantle.

Bruce grunted. Danny tilted his head, staring into the middle distance.

“The occult shop on 4th and Finger between Asher’s Deli and Panadería Golosos,” he recited.

“There is no such shop.” Robin scowled.

“You are correct,” Danny turned to look at him, “And now that you know it’s there, you’ll be able to find it.”

“Emergencies?” Bruce asked.

“Entryway table, same rules.”

The exchange seemed to satisfy Bruce, who stood with a grunt and pulled his cowl back over his head. The others rose with him and followed him toward the entryway, each nodding a thank you to Danny as they went.

They stepped back into the moonlight of the entryway and saw the previously empty table now had four keys laid out on top of it, evenly spaced and covered in a thin layer of dust. When they looked back through the archway they came from, they saw a dark room back to its original form, no Danny to be seen anywhere.

Batman grabbed one of the keys and slipped it into a belt pouch. Robin followed his lead and took a key for himself.

“Father, were you ever going to inform us that you befriended a vampire?”

Batman grunted and cracked the door open to peer out.

“He’s not a vampire,” Red Robin scoffed, grabbing a key for himself.

“I don’t know, creepy house, magic shit, you should’ve seen the gardener,” Nightwing swiped the last key with a flourish.

“He tasted your blood, Drake.”

“He what!?”

“That was after you called him cute,” Nightwing teased.

Red Robin froze with his mouth open, eyes slowly widening.

“I was hoping I just imagined that.”

“Seriously Tim, he’s probably like 300 years old.”

“Tt, I believe Brown would call this robbing the cradle.”

Nightwing and Red Robin turned to look at Robin in silent surprise.

“Shall we leave?” He ignored their incredulous looks and followed Batman out the door.

They scrambled to not be the last out the door, finding themselves in an entirely different part of the city than they entered from.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #my writing #i personally think this works best in a pure batman universe (no JL)#but imagine it how you will #also im ambivalent on how dp fits in #same universe/different dimension/something else #theres clearly some sort of time stuff going on #that could fit into it too idk #probably not ghost king danny #maybe cw apprentice cuz of the time stuff #or maybe theyre just chilling #not totally happy with my writing here but it is what it is

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evan-collins90 · 9 months ago

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Zorine's (nightclub) - Chicago, IL (1976)

"Although we never entered a speakeasy during Prohibition Days, it must have been something like the experience we had on our first visit to Zorine's shortly after it had opened last January.

Only the address indicated we were at the right place.

Otherwise, we faced a nondescript glass door in the window wall at one end of a new brick building. Inside, there was nothing but a counter where a host opened another door concealed in the brick wall behind him and ushered us into a darkly lit, circular vestibule. Here, we waited while someone was dispatched to find the project's interior designer and co-owner, Richard Himmel, ASID.

Wearing a light colored suit and shirt open at the throat--de rigueur for the surroundings--Richard Himmel emerged from the crowded lounge and led us on a tour of the club. First, we went to one of the two balconies where small tables accommodate groups of two. From here we could look down onto the main dining area and the glass dance floor in which lights flashed in synchronization to the booming disco music.

Next, we went into the buffet area with its copious spread of hot and cold food, and then into the lounge and bar where we were shown the clear plastic piano and rhinestone lady mirrors.

After Himmel had introduced us to the project director, Gregory Stratman, he looked around at the full tables and smiled. "You can't do this kind of a job without some laughing at yourself," he began. Calling it a "very cerebral job," but one that required a "certain amount of glibness," he explained that it was designed to appeal to the young person who "ten years ago was told to cut his hair but who is now a success." In answer to our "nuts-and-bolts" questions, he explained that the place seats 230 and is open from 5 PM to 4 AM. He owns it in partnership with Arnold Morton who owns Arnie's, the well known restaurant next door in the same building. Zorine is Mrs. Morton.

Its style? "I meant it to be a departure from the natural look," Himmel explained. "It is not strictly Art Deco or Art Moderne but a combination of both, a reinterpretation of the roots of modernity and the machine age in a contemporary version of a 20's or 30's nightclub."

Lighting, he informed us, was of prime importance. "The intent was to imbue the entire space with a peach-like glow that makes everyone look beautiful. We attained this effect by working the dimmers and changing the bulbs."

As goodbyes were said, our host looked around again and beaming a broad smile asked, "It doesn't look cerebral, does it?"

Description & scans are from the Nov. 1976 issue of Interior Design Magazine

#design #interior design #interiors #architecture #colorful #my scans #1970s #1976 #70s #disco #discotheque #chicago #illinois #art deco #geo-glam

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darkeralmond · 1 year ago

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Dark Red

Jeremiah Fisher x fem! Reader

synopsis: jeremiah tries to comfort you after a confrontation with your ex, but things escalate to more in a heartbeat

warnings: 18+, smut w/ no plot, fingering, praising, oral (fem! receiving)

word count: 1.3k

a/n: HII!! to get back on my writing grind this summer, i found one of my old drafts and proof read it and fixed it up. HOPE U ENJOY! GO PANTHERS!

The door shut as Jeremiah placed his hands on your face. “What happened to make Conrad beat the shit out of that guy and make you cry?” He pouted his lip.

You struggled to get a sentence out. The tears welling up in your throat made your bottom lip trembled. “The guy…who C-Conrad beat up was…my ex.” You confessed, interrupting your sentence with heavy breathing.

Jeremiah patiently waited as you attempted to calm yourself down before continuing, “He wouldn’t leave me alone and Conrad stepped in.”

With that admission, Jeremiah pulled you into a hug. You grasped onto him tightly and let yourself melt into him. His chin rested on the top of your head. “He said I dressed like a slut, Jeremiah,” you said through tears.

He rubbed your back in a circular motion. “He just can’t handle the fact he can’t you.” He let go of the embraced and held onto your hands. “You looked beautiful in your dress tonight.” His eyes traveled down your body teasingly. “Really beautiful.” His eyes innocently looked into yours, watching as a rosy flush grew in your face. “Oh, you liked that?”

“Shut up,” you muttered as you focused your eyes elsewhere in the room. His index and middle finger crept under your chin, lifting your head up to look him in the eye.

He shot a glance down at my lips before whispering, “Y/N, I want to kiss you so bad. Can I?”

Sheepishly, you nodded your head. A faint smile formed on his face before bringing his lips to yours. It was quick and comforting, but still passionate. It was nice, but you needed more.

You leaned forward and pressed more against his lips. Jeremiah grabbed onto your hips and kissed you deeper, his hands traveling downward. The tips of his fingers brushed against your ass before he gripped onto both cheeks and pulling you closer to him.

You pulled away and gasped. “Jeremiah,” you whispered.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” He frantically asked. “Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry, Y/N!”

You shook your head and brought your hands up to his face. “I want you. I want this.” You watched as a smile broke onto his face. “Now, let’s take this off.” You began to undo the buttons of his shirt, sliding it with his assistance. He pulled you back in for another kiss, pushing his tongue through your parted lips. He pressed his body against the wall.

You pulled away before placing lingered kiss down his face to his neck. Jeremiah tilted his head up so you could access his neck better. You nibbled on the sensitive part of his neck, causing him to groan. “God, your perfect.” He grunted as he brushed my hair with his fingers.

He scooped you into his arms and led you over to his bed. You let out a faint giggle as he tossed you onto his soft comforter. He climbed on to of you and thanked you by locking his lips with your neck. He placed dark bruises all along your neck as if he wanted everyone to know your body was his.

His free hand crawled up your skirt, tugging at your panties. Your body shivered because of the feeling of everything. Your dripping cunt soaked the cloth of my panties. His hand slowly slid under my underwear and began to message my clit.

You held your breath as you bit back moans. His fingers moved in a slow circular motion as if he was handled your body carefully. The feeling of his fingers while sucking on your collar bone caused my eyes to roll. The muscles in your legs began to tighten as you gripped onto his blonde curls.

You sucked in cold air through your gritted teeth, struggling to stay quiet. You were fragile beneath his touch, he made you weak. Jeremiah finally pulled away from your neck, his fingers inserting inside of you.

You gasped for air, he threw his free hand over you mouth in an attempt to keep you quiet. “You’ve got this. You’re doing so well.” He whispered into your ear. “Y/N, you’re so close.” His warm breath brushed against your neck.

You squirmed as the throbbing in your core increased. You felt a sudden release of sexual tension while a wave of satisfaction washed over you. Your muscles loosen as you listened to your racing heart.

He pulled his hand out from under your skirt and looked at the glistening liquid on his fingers. You blushed with embarrassed and looked away.

“Good girl.” Jeremiah husked. With his clean hand he brushed some hair out of your face.

“Is there anything you want me to do to you?” You asked him hesitantly. Even though you didn’t have much experience you didn’t want him to feel like he only had to give and not receive.

“Just let me handle it, I’ll make you feel good.” He winked. “Just relax.” He went down to the foot of the bed and got down on his knees. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you closer to him.

You let out a tiny giggle anxiously as he spread your legs. He flashed you an innocent look before flipped back your skirt. He started slow by placing lingering kisses on your inner thighs. They were warm and damp as he grew closer between your legs.

He slowly pulled down your panties and, with your assistance, took them off. He stuck his head back between your legs and wrapped his arms around your upper thighs. His strong arms were able to pin you down as he flicked his tongue against your clit.

You shuddered at the sensation, letting out a quiet moan. His mouth lapped against your lips, taking in all your juices. You knew he was experienced and for a while you couldn’t tell whether that upset you or intrigued you.

It didn’t matter now.

In this vulnerable moment, you knew you were his and he was yours.

Your body was in his possession.

You struggled to sit up, but when you did, you held yourself up with your elbows. You threw your head back as you let out a whimper. “Jere,” you whispered as you felt yourself growing closer.

Your breathes were shaky and your toes curled. There was an ache that shot through your legs, but you were so overwhelmed with pleasure that you ignored it.

“Right there,” you purred. You bit down hard on your bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet. You knew doing this in the house was risky, but it felt so good. The danger was hot.

He sucked until you could no longer contain your. Your body froze momentarily while the sound of your pulsing heart filled my ears. You let out a choked moan as you finished.

You looked down meeting his eyes while taking in deep breaths. Your eyes widened in fear, you had came all over his mouth. He found your horror amusing as he smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Didn’t know you had a wild side of you, Y/N. Glad I could meet it.” He got off the floor and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Do you want to stay the night? Maybe we could go further?” He cooed while wiggling his eyebrows.

You searched for your phone, finding your bag on the ground next to the door. You got up and pulled it out, looking at the time. It was almost 1 in the morning.

“I should probably get home. My sister’s probably worried sick.” You grabbed your underwear off the floor and slipped them back on. “We could continue you this tomorrow?” You flashed him a hopeful smile.

Jeremiah chuckled as he gave you a quick kiss. It felt weird tasting yourself on his lips. “You’re adorable. Of course.”

#jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah fisher smut #jeremiah fisher x reader #team jeremiah #jeremiah fisher #apricot’s navigation #apricot’s fanfics #tsitp smut

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sinnersweets · 1 year ago

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Cream Pie

DogDay x Reader (lemon)

Includes characters from my story so I recommend reading that first before reading this (pinned post)

Minors DNI!!

A/N: You asked for this

“Damian! Sarahs here!” “Coming!” I could hear Damian running around upstairs. Once a week Damian would stay over at Sarahs house and spend the night there, leaving me and DogDay to have some alone time. Though I will admit that every time he left my heart ached for him, he was my little kiddo. Damian came down the stairs with his backpack on and in his left arm was his plushie of his dad. “All ready kiddo?” “Yep!” I grabbed onto his hand and led him outside towards Sarahs car. Before he entered the car, I gave him a kiss on his forehead and hugged him. “You be good now.” “I will mom.” “I love you.” “I love you too mom and tell dad I love him also.” I let go of him and opened the door for him. “I will.” I waved goodbye as Sarah drove off.

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

I was in the kitchen when I heard the front door open. “Angel! I’m home!” “I’m in the kitchen!” I could hear the front door close and soon heard DogDay come into the kitchen. “Where’s our little boy at?” “He already left for Sarahs.” I said while finishing up some dishes. “Aw, I was hoping I’d be here in time to see him off.” I could hear him put some bags onto the counter before he walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Angel~” I smiled and said, “Yes?” “It’s our time now.” He placed a kiss on top of my head while squeezing me. “I know. I’m almost done with these dishes and then-” I stopped talking as DogDay moved his hands down and started to unbutton my pants. My heart started racing. “Let’s play a game Angel. I’m going to touch you and you try to finish the dishes, okay?” DogDay then unzipped my pants and placed his hand outside of my underwear.

My breathing got slightly heavier. “O-okay.” Already my voice was shaky. I knew there was no way I would be able to finish the dishes if he was going to touch me, but it sounded exciting. Once I started washing dishes again is when DogDay started to move his fingers in a circular motion down there. “Already wet are we~” DogDay then bent down and whispered, “Naughty Angel~” while nibbling on my ear.

The way my body was feeling right now was indescribable. I bit down on my bottom lip and did my best to wash dishes. He stayed in the same spot for a few seconds before pulling on the side of my underwear and moving it out of his way. “Doing good Angel. But I promise you won’t be able to focus here in a few seconds~” As I now got a better feeling of him rubbing in between my folds I let out a soft moan. DogDay chuckled as he moved from my ear and onto my neck, kissing lightly and sucking on it.

I was holding onto a wine cup and couldn’t continue rinsing it. Without a warning DogDay placed two fingers inside of me and started moving them in and out of me at a steady pace. My legs started shaking and I arched my back and placed my head on his chest. “Ah~” DogDay got rougher with my neck and started biting down a little hard, but not enough to hurt me.

With one arm I wrapped it around his neck, digging my nails into his shoulder and with the other, clutching onto the cup. DogDay started moaning which only turned me on even more. As his movements got faster and faster, I started squeezing the cup in my hand a little too tight and next thing you know, I snapped it in half.

Me and DogDay looked down at the sink and both sighed when we saw that I didn’t cut myself. “Haha, guess my Angel was enjoying herself.” He took his fingers out of me and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me up to our bedroom. “I hope you know Angel that once we reach our room my lips will be all over your body.” “Can’t wait~”

Once we entered our room, he pushed me up against the wall and started kissing me passionately. I returned the kiss and moved my tongue against his lips asking for entry. Of course, he allowed my tongue inside his mouth and both our tongues became intertwined with one another. Both our breathing grew harder and so did the kiss.

While still kissing each other he moved us onto the bed. Without looking I untied his sun pendant. DogDay placed it onto the nightstand and then started to raise my shirt up over my head. We broke away from the kiss, our saliva connected to each other's tongue. “You look absolutely sexy without a shirt on Angel. My god how I cannot get enough of your body.” “And you are just so fucking hot; with and without your pendant.”

As DogDay looked down at me with my bra on he got this look in his eyes. “You know what Angel? I’ve suddenly become hungry.” That threw me off. “Oh? Um what did you want?” “You.” DogDay grabbed both of my wrists and moved them above my head. He reached over for his pendant and tied my wrists together with it. Oh fuck was this about to get intense.

My chest moved up and down a little fast. I wasn’t expecting this at all! DogDay started kissing my neck and then slowly moved down my body. I couldn’t help but moan as his kisses felt so good on my body. Once DogDay kissed under my belly button he started moving my pants and underwear off of me.

He tossed them onto the floor and licked his lips. “Ready Angel?” I nodded my head and closed my eyes, not knowing what to expect. He lowered his head in between my thighs and kissed the sides of them before moving into the center. There he kissed up and down my area before he started moving his tongue and eating me out. “Ah fuck~” I pulled on the restraints, needing to grab onto something.

Within minutes my legs started shaking and I could feel a knot form in my stomach. “DogDay I’m-ah~” I couldn’t talk. He was eating me out good. So good in fact that he raised himself up, somehow getting deeper with the kiss. I draped my legs over his shoulders. This new angle was so good that I soon released and the knot in my stomach disappeared. “Holy fuck.” I was breathing hard. DogDay licked up what came out of me and gently lowered my body back onto the bed. “Delicious.” DogDay then lowered himself to my ear and said, “Now for my favorite part~” Ah yes ‘doggy style.’ I smiled and while still being restrained I managed to flip myself over. “Say goodbye to your legs Angel, because I’m going to pound into you so hard you’re going to need me to carry you everywhere after this~”

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

“How was school today kiddo?” DogDay asked Damian as we all sat together for dinner. “It was really fun! It was field day and we got to play all these games, and then for lunch we had sandwiches, and they even gave us some cream pies to smash into the teacher's face. Most of them weren’t a fan of the taste.” “You know I had some cream pie the other day and it was delicious.” I covered my mouth so as not to spit out my drink. Damian looked at me with a confused look but then looked back to DogDay. “Really? When?” DogDay looked at me and smiled before saying, “When you went over to Sarahs house.” I could feel my face heat up. I know Damain has no clue what his dad really means but still! “Mom why didn’t you save me any? You know I love your pies.” “Yeah Angel.” DogDay laughed as he spoke. “Well, you see- um your dad was just very hungry that day and ate the whole thing, haha....” DogDay busted out laughing and Damian looked so confused. I looked over at DogDay and gave him a look that said, ‘I am going to kill you’ but he just stuck his tongue out at me.

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

“Hello my beautiful Angel.” DogDay said as he came down the stairs. “Hello my love.” It was coming close to mine and DogDays anniversary, and I was going to get him back for the little stunt he pulled in front of Damian. In my hand was a bag and I walked over to DogDay before he finished coming down the stairs. “When you go out today I need you to return this, it’s what I was going to wear for our anniversary.” DogDay took the bag from my hands and reached into the bag to see what it was. He pulled out the only item in the bag. “Nothing in here but lipstick.” I couldn’t help but grin as it took him a while to understand what I had meant. Once he realized his ears perked up and he looked at me with his jaw slightly open. I walked up a few steps to get eye level with him and said, “Suffer~”

#sinnersweets #poppy playtime #x reader #dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #lemon #let this not be my legacy #I’m already known for one on Wattpad

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k4marina · 1 year ago

Text

— i. Bloodline || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a library that leaves you with more questions than answers

warnings: got canon shit, brief mention of cersie, natural disasters, death, spelling

series masterlist || next part

~ 6.5k word count. i know, its a long one

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

After our breakfast Daenerys told me that there would be a Small Council meeting in the afternoon where I would be able to meet everyone.

“I have to see my dragons right now, but I will see you at the meeting,” she’d said. “We’ll further discuss everything with the rest of my council, until then you’re free to roam around as you please. I’ll have someone give you a proper tour of the castle within the week.”

The castle halls were mostly empty, minus the few guards on patrol. Unlike last time, no guard eyed me with suspicion. Rather, they were a bit more cordial, almost like how they’re with Daenerys. I stopped walking as I came to the end of the hall. In front of me were a set of huge double doors. Two small rectangle windows were on either side of the doors, giving a glimpse of what was inside.

Looking through the glass I could see huge bookshelves filled to the brim with books. Sneakily, I looked back and around me, making sure that no one could see me enter. The library was dim, only like by candlelight and whatever sunlight that could seep through the dark curtains. No one seemed to be inside either, the many tables in the room were covered in a coating of dust rather than books.

Off to the sides of the room were a small set of stairs that led to the second story of the library. The shelves were labeled well and in High Valyrian, just in a very fancy way, like how Old Westerosi was written out during this time. The subjects ranged on and on, most of which was about Valyrian culture and history.

The bottom floor of the room was full of Valyrian history and culture. Just by looking at the books inside the shelves anyone could see that they were very old. When I reached the end of the room, I carefully went up the stairs, the floorboards creaking underneath my feet.

Upstairs, there were far fewer bookshelves than downstairs. A circular table was set in the center of the room and large paintings hung up high on the wall behind it. Walking past the table, I came face to face to the former Lords of Dragonstone. All of the Lords and their families who resided on Dragonstone before the Conquest were there.

On the far left, where the line of paintings began was a family portrait. There was writing engraved on a golden plaque underneath the painting.

“Aenar Targaryen, First Lord of Dragonstone.

Gaemon Targaryen and Daenys Targaryen.”

Underneath Aenar’s and his two children's names were the names of his many wives, five to be exact. I haphazardly read through the names, most of which were of Valyrian women, a few from different areas of Essos.

“Vellela Irnoran, that’s most likely from the Free Cities, Naqari Ghe- shit, how do I say this? Ghezihl, oof, that has to be Ghiscari. Jelaehna Vellar..ys.”

Jelaehna Vellarys. Jelaehna Vellarys. Vel-lar-ys.

“No fucking way.”

I squinted, leaning into the painting trying to find some resemblance. She sorta looked like me? But then again, every Valyrian would. The same silver hair, the same deep lilac eyes, the same necklace-

There, on her neck was the same necklace that hung around my neck. Two dragon heads, red ruby, and a sword. Thinking back to my family's words, I know that the necklace had been passed down for generations, but nothing to suggest that there were more than two. From what I’d been told, there’s one necklace in Volantis and the other with me.

Maybe, there would be more information here. I glanced over the bookshelves. Unlike the other ones downstairs, these ones were labeled by years. Judging by the lack of BC or AC, it looked like they were written before the conquest. I moved towards the shelf with the oldest year. The bookshelf was filled with what looked like journals and letters. Skimming through, I could see that they were in different sets of writing, but one caught my eye.

A brown leatherback journal with a red ruby and the initials J.V. I grabbed it and any other books that resemble them and brought them to the roundtable. The first book was a personal journal of Jelaehna written during her time in Valyria. She described her daily life as one of Aenar's wives in the Freehold. It was interesting to learn about what life was like in a once powerful empire that’s nothing more than rubble now. Mid-way into the journal was what really caught my eye.

This morning, after our morning meal with the family, Daenys came to her father, almost terrified, and told him about her dream. Aenar, confused, calmed her down and told her to explain herself, thinking it was some sort of nightmare. Despite the political stress and pressure of our family possibly losing its position to another house, he still took the time for his children.

Daenys told her father that she’d dreamed of the end of Valyria. At first, Aenar laughed and told her that nothing of that sort would happen. We as well as everyone in Valyria had dragons – even children have dragons. There are so many that we’re completely invincible. How else could we have grown our Empire so far?

However, the look in her eye was enough to convince him. When he confided in his other wives, including myself, he too was convinced of the impending end of our home. Bhaesa, the third wife, claimed that it was just Daenys’ wild imagination and nothing more, that the stress of politics was the cause of such absurdities. But Aenar shook his head and claimed that Valyria would fall and collapse into itself. Flames would erupt from the ground, fire would rain on all of us and our dragons would be able to do nothing.

Everyone went back and forth for what felt like hours however, none of it would deter Aenar. He was fully convinced that his daughter had dreamt of the end of Valyria. When would it happen? Who knows. All Aenar knows is that we must leave urgently.

The next few pages weren’t as dramatic as the last. According to the journals, Aenar had begun preparations for the entire family's departure. He started selling away valuables and any land we owned in the Freehold. During this Jalaehna had written and received letters from her family.

Jelaehna,

I’m writing to you from Volantis! Brother and I had just arrived a few days ago to our new home. We’ve been settling in and adjusting to our new life here. Your goodsister’s have already started strolling through the markets. It seems that there are even more shops here than in Valyria, despite Volantis being smaller.

Today, brother and I toured our new shop. It’s bigger than what we thought and its forge is doable. If needed we can renovate it whenever we see fit. The shop sits in the main district, besides a bakery that sells very well made bread, cakes, and cookies. Brother is thinking that with maybe a few months of more work, we’ll be ready to start our shop. We’ve already received a few orders!

Enough of that, I’ve heard from Mother that your husband has lost his mind. She tells me that his daughter had dreamt that Valyria had been submerged into flames. Is this true? If it is, I will come down to Valyria myself so I can talk some sense into him.

I understand that the Empire politics are not for the faint of heart and that Lord Targaryen is in a tough position, seeing how your rival house is gaining more support than Aenar, but to take such drastic measures for a simple dream? Don’t worry, if need be, we’ll help him in the upcoming council meeting.

I’ll write to you again when everything has finally settled. Perhaps you and your son can visit us in Volantis, I’m sure he��d be excited to meet his cousins again. Don’t trouble yourself with Aenar or Daenys’ drea., I’ll have father come and talk to him.

With Love,

Your Dear Brother.

Son?

From what I remember, Aenar only had one son, right? Though, if he had multiple wives then he’d have more than one child, but none other than Gaemon the Glorious and Daenys the Dreamer were written down in the Targaryen family tree.

And the shop, by its description it's exactly where my family's first shop was located. Could it be the same shop? I groaned, rubbing my eyes. If only I were in Volantis more, then I would have been able to learn more about our family history.

The next few pages were mainly her daily activities with the occasional “I think my husband has gone mad. He’s started to sell all our lands and belongings.” Though, that wasn’t all of it.

We’re finally leaving.

Aenar has worked tirelessly for most of the year on selling away our belongings and lands. It seems that there’s no turning back any longer. His wives and I agree that he’s lost his mind, however he claims that what he’s doing is for the good of our family, for our children.

A few of his wives protested, claiming that if he left then they’d stay in Valyria. However, Aenar was quick to rebut. No matter what, everyone is to leave. He’s even thinking of bringing a few servants that can tend to our dragons to our new home.

I feel that the reason why so many are upset is because of how far we’re moving. It’s not that we’re moving to Volantis or all the way to Bravos. We’re moving to Dragonstone, the lone castle on an island in the Narrow Sea by the continent Westeros. We’re practically moving our entire life to an unknown land. We leave in a few hours, all the dragons have been prepared for our departure. Anyother belongings that would weigh down our dragons, or wouldn’t fit, were sent over by boat.

Whatever this is, I can only pray to Tyraxes that this will only benefit our family and children.

We’ve arrived on Dragonstone.

The journey lasted roughly four days. We stopped when we had to sleep, eat, and stretch our limbs. Our last stop was in Bravos. The small city seems to be developing fine. I’m sure within the years Bravos will become a place of influence not only in Essos, but perhaps Westeros as well.

When we landed on Dragonstone, we were surprised to see a small Valyrian village in the hills. They too were surprised to see us. Apparently, when Dragonstone was first created, almost two hundred years ago, a small group of people were left behind to maintain the castle and the land around it. The castle itself is not what we had imagined. It’s spacious with multiple floors, and it’s littered in dragon motifs and writing in Valyrian.

As of writing this, Aenar and Gaemon are arranging where to put our belongings and are checking everything has arrived well and on time. During all of the planning, Gaemon has helped his father a lot. It's nice to see as a mother when your child and husband spend time together. Daenys is tending to her dragon Balerion. Compared to the older four dragons, Balerion seems to be growing well and will most definitely be a strong dragon. The other wives are either touring the castle or they’re resting in their chambers.

Hopefully our new life on Dragonstone will do us and our children well.

I reread the same words over and over again. Surely, what I was thinking wasn’t a stretch. I mean, if anyone else were to read this they would agree as well, right? If only I had the journals before these ones to know for sure.

The next few hours I was immersed in the entries about the Targaryens familiarizing themselves with their new homes and what their new life was like. It seemed that along the years, Aenar had other children with his wives though, some of them died during infancy. Pages and pages were filled with Jelaehna’s thoughts and her daily activities. It really put into perspective how even all these years back people were just like us. Sure, time’s may have changed but simple things that people enjoy to do have not.

They were right. It finally happened.

Ever since I heard the news my body had been completely numb for many reasons.

Valyria is no more. Our once beautiful home is now nothing but ruins. Its beauty, its culture, its people will never be seen in this world ever again. Ever since we were told of this, I keep finding myself praying to all the Gods in the world that it’s not true, that it’s nothing but a sick sick joke. But it’s not.

This morning I received a letter from my brothers in Volantis informing me that Valyria was destroyed by a chainreaction of all its volcanoes setting off, one after the other causing the earth and the sky to shake so violently that it was felt in Volantis. Volcanic fire rained down onto our Valyria, burning everything in sight. The smoke and fire from it is visible from Volantis and it most likely will be for the next few weeks, possibly months – a looming reminder of the death of the most powerful empire on the planet.

My brothers also tell me that no one has survived, not even the dragons that would soar high in the sky. Who knew that we would be burned by the very same fire we were forged from.

There’s a hole deep in my heart.

Not only have I lost my home, but I have also lost my family. My mother and father, my two brothers and their wives and children. I have cried so much that I am unsure if I have any more tears left to cry. My sorrow is slowly being replaced by anger. Anger that this had to happen. Anger that none of the empire's best scholars were unable to predict this. Anger towards the Gods for destroying those who worshiped them so greatly that we built temples that reached the skies. Anger that all those people laughed at us when we left instead of leaving with us.

The entire castle is in mourning. Daenys is distraught that her dreams had came true and that only she was the one who had dreamt of the end of our home.

In the end, we’re the last of Valyria. We’re the last Dragonriders.

We are all alone.

The wore out paper was warped in some areas, the ink smudged as if small drops of water had been dropped on it. The paper was smooth under my fingers, if I pressed my fingers deeper into the paper I could feel where the tip of the quill was pressed in too deep.

A wave of sorrow washed over me as I reread the words. I could feel myself, again, mourning a land that I had never seen, that my family had never stepped foot on for hundreds of years. Of course as I got older I always wondered what could have been if Valyria lived or if my family had never left. I could feel this woman's anger and pain, a woman I’d never met but felt so connected to, I could understand how she could feel totally alone in this world because I am too. I have no one. No family or friends. I don’t know how to go back to my time, or if I can even go back. What if I died in that cave when I was brought here?

I drew in a deep breath, collecting myself and reading through the last of the journal entries. The last entry was about Gaemon and Daenys’ wedding. They had married in the ways of Old Valyria, surrounded by their family and members of House Velaryon, who the Targaryens had befriended a few years after the doom.

I must admit, I have not felt such happiness since the birth of my son. Today was the union of Daenys and Gaemon. Their wedding was a small intimate affair with just family members and members of House Velaryon. Daella, Lord Velaryon’s wife, had congratulated me and gifted Daenys a beautiful dress. When she saw it, her eyes blew wide and she could stop smiling.

As a mother, watching your child get married is an entirely different kind of joy, one that makes your heart ache from happiness and from the realization that our children are growing up. Now, Gaemon will start his own family with Daenys and their children will carry on the Targaryen names.

I could feel my fingertips buzz. So I was right. Jelaehna was Gaemons mother. Which means she’s both Daenerys and I’s ancestor. She has to be the link between us.

“My Lady,” I let out gasp, my head snapping back towards the voice. Behind me, a guard stood by the staircase. “Her Grace requests your presence.”

“Uh, yes. One moment, please.” I rearranged the books on the table, grabbing Jelaehna’s journal and the letter from her brothers.

The guard made space for me to pass him and step down the stairs before leading me to where Daenerys was. The double doors opened wide and I was met with five pairs of eyes. Daenerys smiled at me, beckoning me over with her hand to stand beside her while the other four in the room eyed me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

It was clear that some didn’t expect another Valyrian looking woman to be on Dragonstone. There were three men, one of which was of dwarf stature, and one woman, all wearing a three headed dragon pin.

They have to be Daenerys’ small council.

“This is Y/n Vellarys. She will be joining us in my quest for the throne,” Daenerys said as if there was no room for arguments.

“Y/n, this is Missandei, my closest companion. Grey Worm, he is the commander of the Unsullied. This is Lord Varys, Master of Whispers, and Lord Tyrion Lannister, my Hand.”

Out of everyone, Missandei was the one who looked the least confused at my sudden intrusion. Daenerys must have told her about me, but I don't know how much.

“Vellarys,” my eyes shifted towards Tyrion. “I apologize, My Lady, but I don’t believe I have ever heard of your house.”

I nodded. “It’s, uh, not from Westeros. My family is from Volantis.”

Me mentioning Volantis caught Varys’ interest. “Volantis? You wouldn’t be referring to the Vellarys of the Old Bloods, My Lady?”

“I am.” I replied, catching a few people off guard.

Tyrion looked over at Varys for him to explain. “The Old Bloods are families in Volantis who can trace their lineage directly back to Valyria. They’re very powerful and influential people.”

“You seem to know a lot about my house.” I say. I could feel his eyes bore into mine. Clearly, to a man like Varys, who himself is a mystery, even to Daenerys, meeting another mystery is almost threatening.

“Not as much as I presume you do,” despite his words being somewhat nice, I felt that there was an underlying message behind them.

“If you don’t mind me asking, exactly why are you here? From what I’ve heard from my little birds, the Vellarys have shown no interest in Queen Daenerys.”

“I’m here for the same reason as you,” I said. “To make Daenerys queen. Take back the throne from the usurpers and bring back the Targaryen dynasty.”

I guess my touching words moved Grey Worm a bit since his frown softened. But despite that Varys still didn’t let up.

“And how can we know you’re to be trusted? We know nothing of you. You’re a complete stranger.”

“Varys,” Daenerys warned.

I moved my hand a bit in front of Daenerys, cutting off her words. “You make a fair point. Yes, I am a stranger… to you. But to Daenerys,” I turned towards her. “We can say we’re long lost relatives.”

Daenerys frowned, “what are you saying?”

“I found these,” I held up the book and letters that were in my hand. “In the library. They belong to Jelaehna Vellarys, one of Aenar Targaryens wives that he brought to Dragonstone after Daenys the Dreamer predicted the Doom of Valyria. She was also the mother of Gaemon the Glorious.”

Daenerys’ face contorted from confusion to shock. I handed off the journal to her, showing her where the evidence was. After reading it, she handed it off towards the others. I also handed her the letters between her and her brothers in Volantis. Varys looked up from the evidence, in his hand, at me looking gobsmacked.

“There’s only one Vellarys family that has ties to Valyria and lives in Volantis. Everything I’ve been told about my ancestors matches with what’s written in there.”

Everyone read over the letters and journal pages, making sure what I was saying was true. I could see their faces shift from surprised to confused.

“Then why didn’t you seek out Her Grace before now?” Missandei asks. “I’m sure you’d heard of her presence in Essos. Why did you wait this long?”

Everyone except Daenerys looked at me waiting for my answer. “Does it matter? I’m here now, aren’t I? Besides, I doubt there was much I could do back there. The Gods have brought me here to help Daenerys now, surely there has to be a reason why, right? And I could say the same about Lord Varys. You’ve known about Daenerys the longest out of everyone here, yet you decided to join her side now and not back then.”

Varys looked a little taken aback that he’d be called out. Did I feel bad about it, sorta. As much as good the man has done and will do in the upcoming events he still betrayed Daenerys and I’m sure my arrival has ruffled some of his feathers.

“Ah, yes.” Varys said, “I suppose you make a fair point.”

Seeing that the conversation had ended for now, Daenerys spoke up. “Now that all is out of the way, I’m sure that you all know why we’re all here – to take back my throne. Grey Worm, what is the condition of the Unsullied and Dothraki?”

The commander straightened his back as he reported to his Queen. “The Unsullied have been training well, as well as the Dothraki force. They have been participating in drills and sparring with one another since we have arrived.”

If I remember correctly, the Unsullied are elite warriors from Astapor who have been trained since they were children. However, their armor and weapons don’t seem to reflect their ferocity.

“What about armor and weapons?” I ask.

Grey Worm looks at me confused, “our armor and weapons are fine, My Lady. Their spears are in great condition and the Unsullied take great care of their armor.”

“I know that. I’m just wondering if you think that fighting against the Gold Cloaks and the Kingsguard in leather armor and a singular plate of steel and a spear is a good idea.” Something that always rubbed me the wrong way was the fact that these elite warriors weren’t given better armor or weapons afterall, every great warrior needs equally great weapons.

Grey Worm frowned, offended by my words. “If you are trying to say that our men are not as good as those of Kings Landing, then you are highly mistaken.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I’m saying. All I’m saying is, isn’t it better to get just as great armor and weapons for your warriors? We have to take into account what kind of men are under Cersie Lanninster and plan accordingly. Obryn Martell was known as Dornes Viper. He was the best with whatever weapon his hand could reach, especially a spear. But he died a gruesome death at the hands of The Mountain.” Tyrion visibly swallowed at the thought of the man who had fought for him when he was on trial for Joffrey's death. “We have to be vigilant with the lives of our men. The Dothraki can’t properly fight in the streets of Kings Landing, but the Unsullied can. And on top of that, you’ll be fighting in unknown territory, you’ll need whatever protection you need.”

Grey Worm seemed to mull over my words, slowly coming to terms with them. Daenerys as well seemed to agree with me. “That isn’t a bad idea. We’ll have to find a way to gather supplies to create new armor for the Unsullied.”

The next few hours were spent talking over things I had no idea about so I kept mostly to myself, chiming in whenever I felt that it was necessary. Throughout the meeting I could feel the others looking towards me, almost analyzing me, especially Varys. For such a passive looking man, he had a threatening glare. It was less of a “I will kill you” kind of stare and more like looking into the eyes of a psychopath where just his stare is enough to make you question yourself.

If this meeting has made one thing clear is that my position in this world is still questionable. Not just logically, but also physically. Just because Daenerys trusts me (to what extent, I don't know) doesn't mean that everyone else will. From what I’ve noticed, Missandei won’t be as hard as expected, maybe a bit of smooth talking will be enough to show her that I’m not an enemy. Grey Worm is also in the same boat as Missandei, I just don’t know if my armor comment rubbed him the wrong way or not.

Getting Tyrion on board will most likely be a game of witts or a game of who can down the most glasses of wine. I remember reading about Tyrion's life after Daenerys’ death. Apparently, he had started to deteriorate –drinking all day and night, spending days, almost weeks, in brothels, a real downward spiral. Of course, this destructive lifestyle caught up to him and within a few years, death was knocking on his door. Before passing, he wrote in his diary. If I remember rightly, he claimed that this downward spiral was his atonement for his sins against Daenerys. After the betrayal he suffered by his liver Shae, he said that he slowly started to lose himself, even after meeting and joining Daenerys.

It was speculated that when they came back to Westeros he mentally fell back into the hole that he had tried to climb out of. In all honesty, I couldn't blame him too much.

Imagine coming back to King’s Landing after your sister, who’s abused you your entire life, tries to kill you for the murder of her son even though you didn’t do it, and then your father says he’ll “help” you meaning, “i’m sending you to the wall, loser, have fun freezing” as a sure way of getting rid of you, and then your lover, who was supposed to be your ride or die, betrays you and gives a false testimony that basically just signs your death warrant, and then after all that bullshit you live and decide confront your father, only to find your “lover” in his bed..

Yeah, if I was him, I wouldn’t want to come back to King’s Landing.

I let out a sigh, craning my head back to relieve some tension, only to catch Varys looking directionally at me through my peripheral.

Varys.

He was an interesting man. Even after all these years, there’s practically the same amount of information as there was when he was alive. People have speculated that he’s a Blackfyre or a fucking merman, though, there isn’t much to that theory. However, one thing is true; he is not loyal to Daenerys.

It’s highly suspected that because of him Missandei was captured which led to her execution. He also tried to poison Daenerys and sent letters to the nobel houses where he exposed Jon Snow's true identity. All in all, he’s someone I have to watch out for. Not only for my safety but also for everyone else.

“Y/n?”

My eyes shifted towards Daenerys, “hm?”

“Is everything alright?” She asks.

I nod. “Yeah, just thinking.”

If I want to help Daenerys, I’ll have to use everything I know from my time to change upcoming events. Meaning…

“Cersie has scorpions.”

Confusion washes over everyone's faces.

“Scorpions,” Tyrion repeats, “like the poisonous insect.” He makes a crawling motion with his hands, imitating a scorpion.

I shake my head. “No, not those. Scorpions. The things that took down Rhaenys and Meraxes.” I lock eyes with Daenerys, who seems to be understanding. “Cersie is mass producing them so that she can take down the dragons.”

A look of horror came across everyone's faces as the realization sunk in. Daenerys’ dragons were her trump card, everyone knows that, she brought them back from the dead. So the fact that Cersie has a weapon that could bring them down left an awful taste in everyone's mouth.

“That's preposterous,” Varys says, catching everyone's attention. “I haven't heard of anything like this. How do we even know that what you're saying is the truth.”

“Just because you haven’t heard of it yet doesn't mean it's a lie.” I say. “And who knows, by the time you’ve learned about it, one of Daeenrys’ dragons might have an arrow in its skull.”

“Your Grace, are you sure that we can even trust this information?” Varys says in his sweet condescending voice. He stares down at her, waiting for her answer.

Daenerys takes in a breath, looking between Varys and I. “How sure are you?” She asks, looking into my eyes.

“Very. You know I have no reason to lie to you,” I reply.

“Very well.” She subtly nods. “I trust you.” I let out a small smile and Varys tries his best to hide his annoyance.

“If Cersei does have these scorpions, then how do we protect the dragons?” Missandei asks.

“I’m thinking the same,” Tyrion agrees. “If these scorpions can kill a dragon like Meraxes, then you can just imagine what kind of damage it would do to the ones we have now.”

“There has to be something in here that will tell us how to train the dragons. This castle is littered with libraries. Surely, there is something that will give us a one up on the scorpions.” Daenerys said.

“I’ll make sure to keep my eyes open.” I replied. I was already going to go back to read some of the other journals. And seeing how the library was more of a family only kind of place, I’m sure there has to be something useful.

After wrapping up the meeting, an hour later, it’s just you and Daenerys in the council room after she’d dismissed everyone but you. She looked like she was in deep thought, going over the events of today, and most likely yesterday.

“You’re tense.” I say.

She sighs, slowly releasing the tension, and rubs her face. “This has been so…”

“Confusing.” I finished. “Yeah, I get it too.”

She shook her head, most likely in disbelief. “Not once did I think that any of this could be possible.”

I softly chuckled, nodding. “Me neither. But then again, if Dragons can exist then I guess anything can be possible.”

Daenerys smiles, agreeing with me with a chuckle of her own. Her eyes travel down to the journals on the table. “Is it true?”

I hummed. “There’s even a painting with all of the wives and she’s front and center with the same hair and eyes and necklace.”

“Gods,” she says. “So this means we’re…”

“Cousins. Well, distant cousins.”

She huffs, “very distant.”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “A lot of distance.”

Silence washes over us again as we go over our thoughts.

“Why are you doing this?”

I frowned, looking at her now. “I told you. I want to help you win the Iron Throne.”

“Yes, I know that. But why? Won’t this change everything in your time?”

She’s not wrong. There've been countless movies, shows, and books about time travel where all anyone could talk about was to “not change anything in the past, otherwise there would be consequences in the future,” or something like that.

“My time… just because it’s the future doesn’t mean it’s the best. Especially for a woman.” My face hardened. “It seems that no matter what we do, we’re always questioned and looked down on. We’re selfish if we want to focus on ourselves and our career rather than being a wife and mother. But then we’re low and shallow if we want to settle down with a man and stay at home to take care of the kids. No matter what, we can’t win.”

“Rhaenyra didn’t win the throne even after being named heir by the King. She was questioned and overruled by her stepmother and half brother, despite having every right to ascend the throne. All because she was a woman.” I remember when I learned about the Dance of Dragons and how it all left a bad taste in my mouth. I remembered how all the boys in my class laughed at her, claiming that she would’ve been a worse ruler than the drunkard rapist, Aegon. “Even after all these years, nothing has changed. When I first started to learn about the history of Westeros, I always told myself that if I could change anything, no matter the consequences, I would do what I could to put a true Queen on the throne.”

Daenerys’ lilac eyes looked into mine. I could feel her emotions without having to exchange any words because they were just like mine. Despite being from separate times, nothing has changed. No matter what, a woman has truly never won.

“Somehow, the Gods have given me the chance to do what I’ve always wanted to do. I don’t care what the consequences are in the future. Besides, I don’t even know if I can return back to my time.”

Silence fell over us. I stared out the window behind her, watching as the clouds passed by. Despite being here for only one day, I couldn’t help but feel that all roads towards my time have been severed. As if the Gods were telling me that there is no way back, no matter how much I might try.

I’m pulled out of stupor when I feel a warm hand on top of mine. Daenerys gives my hand a squeeze. She looks at me with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. We’ve both lost a lot, all in a short time. In another world, she’d be living in Kings Landing with her family. Aneys would have never been pushed to madness, her mother wouldn’t have died in labor, Rhaegar wouldn’t have been killed at the trident, and Viserys would have grown up looking up to his older brother while also looking out for his younger sister. She would have grown up as she should have.

“Thank you,” she says, giving my hand another squeeze. “I know all of this is very confusing, but thank you for helping me. Hopefully, your contributions will have a positive effect in the future.”

I gave her a smile, “you don’t have to thank me, Daenerys. I would’ve helped regardless of the outcome. It’s your family's throne, not the usurpers.”

—-

The castle grounds were amazing. It really puts into perspective how powerful and massive it is when you’re trying to take a tour of the place. Currently, we were in the south end of the castle where the soldiers would train. The courtyard is spacious, and like the rest of the castle, is dark and gray and littered in dragon motifs.

“It seems that they’re in the middle of a training session,” the servant who’d been giving me the tour siad. We stood off to the side so we wouldn’t distract them, but considering they are the Unsullied it really didn’t matter what we did, as they would never lose focus.

“Are you enjoying the tour, My Lady?” Gray Worm asks as he approaches us. The Servant politely nods towards him and fades back to give us some space.

“It has its highs,” I reply. “I’m not interrupting here, am I?”

“No, My Lady. You’re fine.” I looked towards the Unsullied training. “They’re great warriors.”

“Thank you,” Gray Worm nods his head. “Would you like to look closer?”

“What?” I shake my head. “No, no. You guys are busy. I’m already taking your time, I shouldn’t take anymore.”

“No, please, I insist.” Before I could say anything, I caught a look in Gray Worm’s eyes. Is this a test? To see how I’d act around weapons? Of course, just because Daenerys has welcomed me with open arms, doesn't mean everyone fully has either.

“Alright. Lead the way.”

He holds his arm out and helps me down the stairs and leads me to the training grounds. We went past the archer’s, all of whom hit the bullseye every time. Then past the soldiers sparing one another. Most of them were fighting with spears and shields. If I had remembered correctly, their armor and shields were far more extravagant then what they had now. I made a mental note to talk to Daenerys about it.

Lastly, I was shown to the armory. It was a grand room, stocked with swords, shields, spears, and bow and arrows, as well as pieces of armor. A lot of it looked like it was Valyrian, most likely belonging to the Targaryens.

“This is what was left of the Targaryen armory after the Baratheons fled the island.” Gray Worm explains. He points out certain pieces and explains what they are.

“Fucking hell,” I mumbled, getting a closer look. “Not once did I think I’d be here of all places.” My eyes raked over the endless amount of weapons, taking it all in. No way any museum could beat this.

“Would you like to spar?” Gray Word asks, catching me off-guard.

“Me? I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I shake my head.

“You were not taught?” He asks.

I shake my head again. No actually, where I’m from we don’t fight with swords anymore. “Never had an opportunity to.”

He goes quiet for a second and I think that he’s dropped it, but he surprises me when he speaks up again. “Would you like to learn?”

“I don’t think I’d be a good idea. Besides, aren't you supposed to start learning at a young age? I’m pretty sure my ship has sailed,” I joked. Gray Worm slightly frowns at my “odd way” of speaking.

“That may be true however, anyone can learn at any age.” He looks between the swords and then me. “So, would you like to learn?”

It wasn’t a bad idea in hindsight. This is Westeros during the Game of Thrones Era. Practically everyone dies if they’re not prepared and I can’t take any chances here if I want to make it back to my time without a scratch.

“Alright. I do.”

a/n : finalyyy it's here. i know it's a long one, but i had so much that i wanted to write. i'll try to keep the next few chapters a little light, but no promises lol. feel free to comment your thoughts and do all that other stuff <;3

comment it u want to be on the taglist !!

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@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @ministark @laanswife

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