#Oliver: that’s not the only thing he wants to do with him near a wall 😏

[frownyalfred]

“Batman and Superman have public fights on the Watchtower to throw off people from looking into their relationship” and “this only convinces people even more that they’re fucking” are two statements that can actually be true at the same time.

[saltburnedme]

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: After your last night with Oliver you question if things were even real, did you want them to be? Or are things better left unsaid.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), dub con, drowning (kind of, their in a bath it’s more of like a forced breath play thing no one actually dies), sex in a bath, generally fucked up smut overall again

Read part 1 here (this can be read as a one shot too)

You didn’t wake up until nearing noon, up to this point you didn’t realise that had even been an option. Moments after you realised that something must have woken you up in the first place, there was a light knock on the door from one of the maids, a welcome change to the usual bursting in and blinding you with light pouring in from the freshly opened curtain you thought for a few seconds before she did exactly that.

‘Good morning miss, did you sleep well?’ She questions, her voice cheerful as she opens the curtains letting the sunlight flood into the room. Your eyes still adjusting to the dawn, the memories of last night rushing back into your mind. Your ripped night dress and falling asleep naked must have looked suspicious enough but to add to this you were certain your hair must have been a mess. It was only upon looking down towards yourself to cover up that you found yourself wearing a different night dress, one you can’t remember ever having seen before, your hair felt as if it was tied back and your torn nightwear was nowhere to be found.

‘I slept fabulously, thank you for asking’ you reply, feeling like your speech was slurred from drowsiness.

‘Breakfast is ready downstairs’ she replied before exiting the room, the second the door closed you rushed out of bed and almost sprinted towards the mirror. Was any of it real? You were now dressed where you remember sleeping naked, your hair was tied back and brushed where you remember it being down. Your mirror was against the wall like usual and as much as you may try the damn thing wouldn’t budge an inch. The only thing remaining from the night before was the faint swell between your legs and a suspiciously red mark left around your neck, if it hadn’t been for this you would be questioning if the night previous had been real at all or if you’d finally become so delusional from tiredness that you’d hallucinated the entire thing.

You traveled through your day in a haze, you’d like to say that you hadn’t made an extra effort to seek out Oliver but you had once again wandered into every room, down every hall and through every garden, apparently after everything that had happened he was now conveniently a difficult man to find. Was he ever really there? All of those words he said and everything he did was it actually real? He did seem out of character, the Oliver you knew, albeit very vaguely, would never have come into your room, stripped you naked and fucked you like that. You weren’t even convinced he’d ever actually had sex before last night let alone was as depraved as you’d found him to be. Last night he asked you to come to him at 10pm sharp, to meet him in the bathroom that he and Felix shared, but should you go? If you doubted it was even real in the first place wouldn’t just turning up in their bath seem at the very least a little bit unhinged? You weren’t sure what to make or do with any of it, but if one thing was for certain you were going to find out.

The day hurried by and promptly turned to night, surely you’d see Oliver at dinner you thought to yourself, your little hunt that consumed your day proving fruitless. As always you dressed for dinner, this time opting for a white bias cut silk dress which clung to every curve. It somewhat resembled your torn (and now missing) night dress, the main differences being in the wider straps and being longer in length as the hem delicately brushed the floor.

You tried your best to keep your literal and metaphorical cool through the warm air of the summer night, strolling with ease through the door of the large dining room. Your eyes scanned the room for mere seconds before you found him, sitting silently in his usual seat cross from yours, eating and avoiding eye contact at all costs. Taking your seat the usual chit chat continued around you with food placed elegantly in front of you, your eyes beaming forward burning a hole into the forehead of the man across from you in the hopes that your gaze would force his hand in some way. You’d searched for him all day, where could he have been? He looked almost angry. Summoning up your last ounce of bravery you decided, the only way to fight the bull is to grab him by the horns.

‘So Oliver, how did you sleep?’ You asked loudly across the table, loud enough for the rest of the dinner guests to hear, placing a pause over all the other conversations happening in your vicinity. Out of the corner of your eye you could just about make out the puzzled faces of the rest of the table, everyone now wondering how often they’d actually heard you address each other previously to this.

‘Fine, thank you Y/N’ he replied bluntly, his gaze finally meeting yours. You’d hoped opening up some kind of conversation with him would confirm your beliefs in some way, but instead he just looked angry. Maybe that was conformation enough in itself?

‘I thought I heard something from your side of the house’ you muttered out as the conversations around you slowly begin again. His blue eyes becoming black with anger almost daring you to say more as he sat unspoken.

‘Oh did you now?’ He questions. Definitely daring, you thought to yourself. You felt almost as if you were staring out a wild animal waiting to see just how long it would take for you to blink and for him to attack.

‘Yes, I thought I heard someone walking around near my room coming from your direction’ you continue, one hand playing nervously with the soft fabric of your dress underneath the table as the other shuffles food around your plate with your fork.

‘It’s an old house, all sorts of noises’ he replies, his head tilted slightly to the side as if to work out where you were going with this line of questioning. ‘Why, was there something you needed during the night?’ He ponders. Was he still daring you or was he just as confused about this whole situation as you were? Maybe you really had imagined the whole thing. He wouldn’t be asking you that if he had something to hide surely, you knew Felix had a temper with a hairpin trigger and absolutely no one wanted to provoke that. Or maybe that was exactly the point.

‘Oh no, it’s nothing really. Don’t worry, it just woke me up is all’ you reply, trying your best to sweep this entire conversation under the rug as much as humanly possible. You wanted to shrink away and become one with your chair, hiding in plain sight almost as if to disappear completely into a puddle of your own embarrassment. With a shrug Oliver went back to eating and ignoring you again, occasionally joining in with the others conversations as you pushed your food around your plate, taking anxious mouthfuls until the plate was almost entirely emptied.

‘Please may I be excused? I’m awfully tired’ you asked, your question pointed towards Elsbeth at the head of the table.

‘Of course my darling, sleep well’ she says as you hurry off, granting the room a brief Goodnight and a polite smile before making your way down the corridor.

Despite all of this, at 10pm you found yourself pacing your room, if any of it had been real you were well aware that you were late by now, your pacing only increasing as the clock ticks to 10:01pm, 10:02pm and before you knew it 10:05pm.

‘Fuck it’ you whispered to yourself, heading out of your room and down the corridor in the direction of Oliver’s room. Taking off your shoes to be as quiet as possible, your dress swung at your ankles as you almost stormed your way towards the bathroom, your feet padding cautiously but quickly against the wooden floor.

Finally arriving after what felt like hours of walking you found the bath freshly drawn yet the room suspiciously empty. At least this partially confirmed that you hadn’t manufactured this entire situation in your haze of exhaustion. The lights dimmed to their lowest setting you can barely see into the corners of the room, you make your way over to the mirror to take in your reflection standing in front of the sink. Resting your hands against it you check the room again, still no one to be found or so you thought. Letting out a frustrated sigh you concluded that if someone was watching you, as you hoped they were, you’d give them a show.

Sliding the first silk strap down your shoulder you glide your hand across your chest, down to your shoulder and off of your arm. You follow the same with your other arm, still holding the dress to your body as you take one last look around the room before dropping your dress to the floor the white fabric pooling at your feet, a stark contrast to the darkness of the rest of the room. Your movements continued as you slipped your bra off, once released massaging your own shoulder softly to relieve yourself from the stress of the day. Your hands slipping lower you step out of your white, matching silk panties, the collection of fabrics joining your dress on the floor.

You turn away from the mirror, facing towards the bath, slowly stepping in and submerging your body in the water, the shine of the golden tub reflecting off of your skin. Dipping your hair in the water you look around the room full of hopefulness again, still, finding nothing. He had to be here, you were sure of it and if he wouldn’t come to you of his own free will, you’d make him just like he made you. Your hand begins to travel south, lowering between your legs rubbing soft circles into your clit. You feel the tension release from your body almost immediately as your pace increases, letting out a stream of breathy moans, the sound reverberating off of the tiles. Your eyes fall closed and your face begins to contort with pleasure as you feel your climax rapidly build, your mind replaying the previous night tempting your pleasure to reach its peak.

Just as quickly as your orgasm built, it was ripped away from you harshly. Your eyes still clenched shut in ecstasy you feel your wet hair being grasped firmly, pulling you under in the water. You try to hold your breath as you’re pushed under but the shock of it almost causes you to breathe the water in. Being held there for a couple of seconds your pulled up just as aggressively.

‘You think your such a clever girl, calling me out like that’ he growls, climbing on top of you still dressed in a white shirt and boxers. His body caging you in underneath him he puts his other hand around your face, squishing your jaw so that your mouth falls open, spitting into your mouth before pushing your head under water once more. You wish that you could have kept the taste of him on your tongue for a few seconds more, a thought that crossed your mind very briefly until you were filled with the panic of being drowned once again before being pulled to the surface once more.

‘Tell me why I shouldn’t just drown you now little one? You know that’s been my plan all along, fucking you and feeling you completely submissive underneath me, nothing you can do to stop me’ he growls, grinding his hard cock into the flesh of your thigh. ‘But you had to be a disobedient little whore, just like the rest of your fucking Catton family’ he continues, you open your mouth to reply but just as you breathe in to speak he plunges you under again, this time pulling your up faster, allowing you to cough up water and look up to him in fear. ‘There’s my good girl’ he sneers, this is exactly how he wanted you completely obedient and pliable underneath him. He wanted the power over you, to make you fear him and love him all at once, something that he was very much achieving. Almost as quickly as he had turned on you, his touch became soft almost loving and his words followed suit.

‘You looked so pretty in that dress, almost like an angel. You wear that for me sweetheart?’ He asks, releasing your hair to press one hand against the roll top of the bath near your head while still holding your cheeks softly in his other hand. You were almost wordless, the contrast in his actions totally throwing you off in a way you would have never expected. You thought you’d seen the darkest parts of him last night, but this was like you’d found another cavern in his soul filled with nothing but hatred for you and everyone around you.

‘Y-yes’ you stutter out, still catching your breath from being held under water, your eyes locked on his as he leans in closer, his face almost touching yours.

‘Yes, what?’ He asks, your eyes scanning his face rapidly to give him the answer he craves, the answer you wish with all your heart and mind to give him.

‘Yes.. sir’ you reply, your words coming out shakily, your body trembling in the gradually cooling water.

‘Such a good girl for me’ he says letting go of your face, his hand sliding down your curves, pulling your legs around his hips your heat pressing into his fully hardened length. He got off on drowning you, that was the first thing that sprung to mind when you felt him between your legs, he wanted your submission and my god did he have it. ‘Fuck’ he groans to himself as he grinds into you, it was almost as if he saw you as an object, just there for his ego.. and other things. Pulling his shirt over his head he discards the wet fabric to the floor beside the bath, pushing his boxers down and gliding the thick head of his cock through your folds.

‘Do you want me to fuck you angel? You’ve been such a good girl, you deserve a reward’ he asks as softly as he could in the given situation. You knew he didn’t really care what you said, if you refused he’d still take what he wanted from you but he knew you’d never turn him down not when he was the only person granting you the lustful excitement that you so craved.

‘Please sir, please fuck me’ you ask looking into his eyes in desperation.

‘Ah, that’s not quite good enough little one. Show me how much you want me’ he demands, pulling you up towards him, leaning back on his heels as he kneels in front of you, his hips lifted to your face height. Tentatively you licked down his shaft, your gaze held by his as you take more of him in your mouth. For the first time, he was letting you take control, his hands gripping the sides of the bath firmly, his knuckles whitening as his fists tighten. You knew not to break eye contact from your last time with him, he liked you to look at him, he loved the power it gave him over you as he moaned unashamed above you. Wouldn’t Felix hear? Wouldn’t you be in trouble? You thought. You’d suspected earlier today that this may be exactly what Oliver was betting on but right in this moment you didn’t care, you’d do anything to please him.

Your hands join your mouth wrapped around Oliver’s length, pumping him as his cheeks flush and one of his hands entangle in your hair gripping it and pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. ‘Fuck angel’ he almost whispers, as you feel him throbbing under your grip, he was close and you knew it. Your fists quickened their pace and you sucked his tip a little bit stronger until his eyes left yours, his head falling back against his shoulders as his eyes close and his face contorts in pleasure, pushing his tip right to the back of your throat causing you to choke as he empties himself into your windpipe, fucking your face as he rides out his orgasm. Just as his climax subsides he pulls his still hard length out of your mouth.

‘Open’ he demands, no other words. You thought he wanted to see that you’d swallowed but you hadn’t, his spend trickling out around the corners of your mouth. ‘Jesus, look at you’ his tone mixed between an insult and genuine concern. Just as you tried to swallow his load again, you were stopped feeling his mouth on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth immediately making your kiss a mixture of both of your saliva and his cum emptying your mouth of it as he pushes you back against the bath, wrapping your legs around his hips once more. The image of you like this seeming to have triggered something in him again, he immediately lines his cock up with your entrance and thrusts up into you making you let out a light scream in a mixture pleasure and pain as he splits you open.

His pace was fast, way faster than you expected as the remaining water in the bath splashes over the edges as he fucks you landing on the floor beside the tub. His eyes baring into yours once again he holds you up above the water line, the blood rushing throughout your body almost deafeningly as all of your senses heighten zoning in on Oliver. Your ruined orgasm returning almost as quickly as it left you feel yourself begin to clamp down on him, you know he can feel it, his hips grinding into yours forcing your orgasm from you almost violently.

‘Cum for me’ he asks, his tone almost begging at this point. ‘Let me hear it’ He demands, another contrast with last night, this time he wants to hear you. ‘Let them all hear it, let them know who you belong to, who fucks you like this’ his words faltering as you clamp down on him, riding out your orgasm loudly just ask he asked, the sound bouncing off the walls you were certain that they must have been able to hear you in the next village over let alone just in the house.

‘Fuck, you really are an angel, look at you’ he says, guiding your gaze to the mirrors over the sink to the side of you as you come down from your orgasm, still continuing at his blistering pace. Watching him fuck you was almost other worldly, the way the dim light reflected off of his almost translucent white skin. You could see his length thrust in and out of you as your eyes met his in the mirror. Pulling you out of your post orgasm haze he doubles down on his pace, one hand on the bath above you the other on your hip as his nails dig into your soft skin. Without warning he emptied himself inside you, pressing his lips to yours as he came within you his moans almost as loud as yours had just been.

Regaining your breaths he pulls out of you, sliding behind you in the bath washing your body clean with the remaining water as your back is pushed against his chest. You wanted to say something, to ask him what all of this meant or if it really meant anything to him at all. You knew you had feelings for him, feelings that grew stronger every time something like this happened between you. You had a need, a desperate want to make him happy, to impress him and to make him need you the way you needed him.

‘Did you enjoy your little lie in?’ He asks, some what out of context with the rest of what had just happened.

‘Uh.. yes’ you replied ‘I wasn’t aware the staff would let anyone sleep in after 8am’ you continued with a giggle.

‘That’s because they don’t. I told them to leave you be a little longer after your somewhat strenuous night’ he replies pressing kisses into your neck as he continues to clean you.

‘And they listened to you?’ You asked, partially amazed that the house staff would ever listen to the wishes of anyone other than the core members of the family.

‘They will’ He says, his voice sterner as his actions continue, pulling you in for one last kiss while running his fingers through your hair. ‘Oh they will my angel’ his words ring in your ear as you begin to fall asleep on his chest ignoring the rest of his sentence, you were his angel.

Tag list - @lillypink @ilovesaltburn @simplymakkari @hahahafucku @rorysgirl @jubileexoxo @grandpaintersuit @anniemay67 @idontevenknow1359 @frayafriggafrey

[gomzwrites]

Task force 141 found out about your soft spots | Part 2

Summary: Ever since they saw the softer part of you, the task force 141 has been trying to see more of them. a/n: This is a follow-up from the previous part! It can be read separately but part 1 gives more context :)  Also! The dividers were made by @gomzdraws (which is also me lol) apologies if I took too long! I'll have to admit I got a bit carried away with part :>

Tags: incorrect military terms, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic, horrible attempt at Scottish accent(I gave up near the end xD), mention of dog bites, x gn!reader

PLEASE DO NOT RESHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

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Captain John Price

The two of you returned to base after just recently completing the mission; the target was secured and handled, and you rested in the general area as you looked through your phone again, updating your to-do list as you had stumbled upon the photo of the cute latter art previously. You stop and lean on the counter as you smile. It's so freaking cute, you think to yourself before a nudge takes your attention.

"Come", was all the captain said before you quickly followed along without questions. You’re always eager to follow any instructions he gives; maybe he needed to discuss the upcoming mission. But it’s obvious it's not going to be that as you sit in his car. Where are we going?

You ask curiously as you fasten the seat belt. The Captain only gives you a smile as he presses the gas pedal. "Just getting something to eat", he replies as you nod and relax into the chair. Well, it's nearing evening, and you are, in fact, quite hungry, so a small bite before dinner doesn’t sound too bad. It wasn’t long before you finally reached your destination. It’s a quiet town that has a few stalls and shops, and you walk alongside the captain until you stop before a small cafe, tucked nicely at the end of the street.

You look through the window as you watch the few people and barista chilling inside. It looks warm and cosy; there were soft fairy lights lining the pale yellowish wall with brown pillars supporting the structure. The captain gently places his hand around your back as he guides you to enter the cafe. You follow along as you take in the fresh smell of coffee and pastries and the sight of the small place. Price let you wander around for a while before taking a seat near the stairs, and a waiter quickly came as he greeted him. 

"Ah John! It's been a while; I see you brought company." The older man then hands you both the menu as he chuckles and bumps the captain’s shoulder. Price nods back as he glances back at you and says, "Pick anything you want, it’s on me", You give him a surprised look before you nod and take a look. You smile as you look through the list on the menu; it has a lot of cute drinks and desserts, so he saw. You thought to yourself as you ordered a latte; it's apparently their best-selling drink with the 3D cat milk foam on top of the drink. The waiter nods as he looks at Price, to whom he orders tea and some apple strudels. The waiter takes down the order on his notepad before promptly returning to the counter and preparing the orders.

How did you find this place? You ask the captain as you take in the surroundings again; it's a hidden gem, that’s for sure, and the prices on the menu were not bad as well.

"I knew this place because Oliver, the man who took our order just now, used to go to the same college", you hum as a reply and nod.

It's a nice place, and I can’t wait to try the drink, you reply back with a smile as your eyes twinkle with excitement. The captain chuckles as he nods. 

"Well, I didn’t take you as someone who likes these kinds of things, but it's a pleasant surprise, don’t worry. So I figured I'd bring you here." 

He raised an eyebrow out of amusement as he watched you blush slightly. You huffed out a puff of air before you replied sheepishly, 

Ah well, I guess cute things are my weakness after all; who would’ve guessed? 

"Just don't let the enemy know, and you’ll be fine", the captain jokes back as your drink arrives, and you immediately close your mouth as you watch the foam wiggle around when it was placed gently on the table. 

Oh my god, you whisper to yourself as you gasp and take in the sight, quickly taking your phone out and taking a picture. You glance back at Price with sparkling eyes as you tilt your head, giving him a "are you seeing this?" look as he chuckles and nods. He can feel the joy radiating from your face as you go ahead and stare at the drink, and the way you carefully turn the cup around to see the whole thing? Precious.  

He watches you take a sip. You close your eyes and give a nod as you savour the taste. Not only was the drink cute, but the flavour was perfect as well. You can smell the coffee's aroma and see how smooth the drink is. You didn’t realise when you had a bit of foam below your nose as you smiled back at the captain. Price couldn't help but laugh slightly as he took a tissue and wiped off the foam from your face. "Guessing you like it then?", you nod as you place down the cup and cover your mouth slightly to hide the pink blush that’s creeping up to your cheek. 

Yeah, it's not too bitter, and it tastes pretty rich. I like it. You reply as you watch him hum and take his strudel and tea. 

"Good, we can come here again next time". He says this as he gives you a warm grin and a wink.

John Soap MacTavish 

It was another week of training with the two military dogs, specifically Max and Judy, two German Shepherds who have been quite fond of you as they follow the training. Over the course of the regimen, you are supposed to reinforce essential handling techniques and carry out a few conditioning exercises like generalised commands. You may not be a military dog handler, but the training has definitely improved your skills to be one. Soap has joined you on a few training sessions and watches on the side as you smoothly handle the dogs, carrying out the essential steps and watching as the dogs follow you obediently. He finds it inspiring to see you train with the professional dog handler, Sergeant Sam, who has been offering a lot of help and tips. 

Today, Sergeant Sam guides you through controlled aggression training for Max, something the dog has had some trouble with for the past few days. Max has shown a good level of precision when commanded to attack a target, but its restraint technique still needs more practice, as Max tends to move before you give your words. You coo and guide Max as you carry out the demonstration, pointing at the volunteer as Max growls. You hold onto the leash firmly when Max tries to run towards the target, and you speak with a steady, calm voice as you patiently coo at the dog. 

Alright Max, steady. Not yet. Stay. 

Your voice hushed Max as it reduced his growl and made him stand on the ground, no longer pulling on the leash, and wait for your next command.

Okay, good boy Max, you don't forget to praise it immediately. This is one of the many bits of advice given by Sergeant Sam, it is said to give the dog motivation and let it know it’s doing the right thing if you praise its action immediately. 

You finally gave the signal after a while, and Max immediately went to jump and bite on the protective coat the volunteer was wearing, growling and displaying its aggression as you guided the dog. Sergeant Sam and you continue to practise a few more times with Max to properly train him to improve his restraining skills. 

After a few hours, you were finally given a break as you sat on the floor, sweating as you gently rubbed Max’s head. 

There you are, good boy Max~ So proud of you!

 You whisper to Max as you feel something poke your back. You glance back and smile as you watch Judy (the other military dog) wagging its tail and giving your cheek a lick. 

Ah! Judy, did you miss me? Hey now, who’s a good boy~?

You immediately shower Judy with attention and pat its head as you glance up to watch Soap approaching you. You wave to him as he stands at a distance. You watch his nervousness show as he rubs his neck and taps his foot repeatedly on the ground. You then stand up and order Max and Judy to sit and remain still on the floor as you walk to Soap. 

Sergeant Soap, good to see you. You greeted him with a smile as he relaxed slightly and smiled back at you. 

"Aye, I saw da training todae; it seems yer gettin better at this!", he said as he nervously glanced back at Max and Judy before staring back at you again. You nodded appreciatively as you chuckled and spoke. 

Yeah, Max and Judy have been behaving well, and the training with them is running smoothly. They remind me of my own dog back home, you say fondly as you watch him glance back at you with a surprised grin. 

"Wut? You owned a German Shepherd? That’s perfect, then, actually", You watch as he shuffles around his pocket as he holds out a bag of snacks; it’s Milk-Bone dog biscuits! You smile widely as he hands you the snack. 

"Well, I wanted to give it to ya as a wae to say thanks since yer took the job for me; you seem close to dogs anyhow; I hope I bought the right thing". Soap says as he laughs and pats your shoulder, "What’s the name?", He asks before you take out your phone and proudly show him photos of your own German Shepherd. It's big, and it has a golden sable pattern that shines ever so slightly under the sun. 

Named it Meatball because he always managed to steal some from the kitchen. He is my little ball of sunshine, you explain with a soft giggle as you show him more pictures, swiping the gallery before stopping on one where you were carrying Meatball with a struggling look, face scrunched up with a frown with a grin, you chuckle as you look back at Soap, 

He’s almost 5 years old now and still jumps and expects me to carry him around like a baby, even when he's 60 pounds! 

Soap laughs along as he stares at the photo. You looked so happy and content, and he likes how cheerful and giddy you are when you start talking about your dog. He’s still scared of dogs, but he felt like with you, he might be able to overcome that fear a little as he listens to your stories. 

I'm sorry for babbling so much, by the way. You stop halfway when you realise you’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes about your own dog, but Soap quickly shakes his head as he rests his hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring look as he speaks,

"No, no, go on. I love hearing yer talk about Meatball. He’s really cute!", Soap says as he gives you a nudge. "might even visit the fella with how sweet he sounds". Your eyes beamed when he suggested that,

Really? I mean, I don't want to force you to meet him if you’re still uncomfortable and all

Soap nods again as he gives a chuckle. 

"Well, I think I'm still a bit nervous, but it's something I want to try again, ya know?", You nod in understanding before you think for a moment and give a reply as you glance back at the military dogs. 

How about you start by warming up to Judy? Max is a bit bigger and more intimidating, but Judy is smaller, and he’s more obedient. Do you want to try it? Soap sucks in a breath as he contemplates for a few minutes before finally sighing as he nods slowly. You smile as you rest your hand on his thigh to soothe his nerves. 

It's okay; you’re with me. It will be alright. You say gently as you call for Judy to come around. Soap watches as Judy slowly makes its way towards you and Soap, his legs shuffling a bit as his muscles tense up when Judy comes and sits in front of you.

Be good. Soap is going to touch you, okay? You coo at Judy as the dog gives a nod and rests its head on your knee. You glance back at Soap as you hold his hand and speak.

You’re going to be okay; Judy won't bite, I promise. Soap nods with a gulp as he lets you take his hand and guide it to Judy’s head. You watch as he retracts his hand a bit when Judy tilts its head to stare at Soap. 

"y-y/n…" Soap says nervously before you pause and rub his hand in small circles, 

It's alright; take it slow and don't worry. You speak patiently as you watch Soap nod and take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. You don’t move and continue holding his hand in the air, and wait to let him take the initiative to move, and not long after that, he starts running his finger along the head of Judy’s fur cautiously. Judy remains still as it closes its eyes and wags its tail slightly. You give a small chuckle as you whisper back to Soap,

You’re alright; look, Judy likes you. You say as Soap relaxes more as he watches in awe, smiling slightly when he watches the dog press its furry chin onto your knees and melt into his touches. It’s certainly a much different response to what he imagined, and the memories of dogs biting into his legs and arms still haunt him sometimes. He can feel those sharp teeth sinking into his skin and drawing blood in those nightmares, but now? This dog he's touching is peacefully laying on your knee, not moving an inch as he strokes his fur softly with his palm, it's unnerving to him still, like he still expects the dog to bite him if he lets down his guard. But slowly, he gets more comfortable when he sees no signs of that happening, he also knows that if you're here with him, he'll be alright.

Soap glanced back at you as he held his gaze. "Thank you...", he said with a tone full of appreciation as you smiled back at him and nodded. 

No worries, I'm happy you’re able to come this far, you say back with a soft tone as the both of you just continue like this, chatting idly back and forth as Soap slowly strokes Judy’s fur. By the end of the conversation, Judy was resting its head on Soap’s tight, and Soap was no longer trembling as he rests his hand on its head.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Ever since Gaz dropped off the bear in your room, you’ve been trying to reach out to him. But many times that has not happened because of the busy schedules, and it also doesn’t help that you’re not often teamed up with him. 

However, when you do see him, you make sure to give him a nod and an appreciative stare as he returns the same. You’ll admit you were not as close to Gaz when compared to Ghost, but ever since the IKEA trip, both of you have been trying to change that, even if it’s just a bit. Sometimes he brews you a cup of tea in the morning; other times you’ll secretly take on his paperwork when you notice those tired eye bags in the morning. 

But you wanted to return the favour with more than just these small gestures. You’ve thought about a lot of options; the first thing was perhaps to buy him a game of sorts. You heard from Soap before that Gaz is a gamer himself and owns a Switch. The problem is that you’re not aware of what kind of games he’s into, and asking those questions will raise suspicions. You have a rough idea that he might like action role-playing and multiplayer games like Elden Ring and World of Warcraft; sometimes you know Soap and Gaz will play Mario Kart because of how loud their laughter can be in their room. But you don’t like guessing and would rather get him something you’re absolutely sure he will like. The other thing you wanted to get him was perhaps a hat or a scarf, seeing as he likes wearing those. But you learned that he is very attached to his scarf, so buying him a new one didn’t seem right to you. As for the hat, you actually found a blue beanie that might look good on him, but you decided to save it for his birthday. After many sleepless nights of trying to figure out what on earth to give him, the opportunity finally presented itself one day. You just finished a mission with the team, and as the crew made their way back to base, you noticed how Gaz’s gloves were damaged; the thumb side was burned off, most likely due to the explosion previously. Gaz took notice of your gaze and gave you a smile.

"It's alright; the rest of it is still fine I can live with it." 

You give a nod as he turns around and speaks to Soap again, back to their usual banter as Gaz elbows Soap for not warning him when the bomb goes off. You secretly thank Soap for his recklessness because now you know exactly what to get him.

You tip-toed around the base during the late hours, being quiet and stepping cautiously on the floorboard to avoid generating any noise. You rest your hand along the wall as you walk before finally reaching the door. You glance around once and finally bend down to put down the little green box with a cute yellow ribbon. You smile softly to yourself as you stand up, only to yelp slightly when Gaz taps on your shoulder from the back. 

"Hey, erm, what are you sneaking around for?-", he stops as you quickly glance back as you nervously stand before the gift, shuffling it behind your feet as you shake your head. Gaz watches your demeanour before he smiles as he looks down, noticing a small gift box. "I didn’t know it was my birthday today", he jokes with that charming smile of his, chuckling softly as he tilts his hand and leans closer.

"You don’t have to be so shy around me. Come on", He bends down to pick up the box as he opens the door. You were about to leave before he stops as he looks at you, motioning to enter his room. You gulp as you nod and follow along, deciding to sit on his bed beside him. You have never entered any member’s room at this point, and you’re surprised at how cosy his room is. A few blankets here and there; he even has a few plushies himself! You get distracted by his place without realising he has already pulled off the ribbon and taken out the gift. You turn around and face him when he lets out a gasp.

"YOU DID NOT-"

Gaz said excitedly as he held a pair of Moto gloves, navy in colour with a dash of blue camouflage, lined with hard leather that protects the knuckles. You watch as his eyes shine and he smiles so big that you can see his prominent canine teeth protruding, silently satisfied with yourself when he thanks you for the gift.

I've been wanting to return the favour since you got me the bear.

You say softly as he nods and tests out the glove. It’s a perfect fit as he feels the texture and size.

"This is amazing! I love it. Thank you so much", He thanks you again as he gives your head a pat. Both of you decided to stay for a while and chat idly after that.

Simon Ghost Riley

You were awake the entire night, blinking and shuffling around your bed as you sighed deeply. 

Another sleepless night 

You thought to yourself as you pressed a pillow to your own face. You usually have trouble sleeping sometimes—more than you would like to admit. Whether it's because of the stress that lingers after missions or because of nightmares, They plague your nights without mercy. 

You groan and sit up as you stare at the clock. 

It's about 5 a.m. already, and I still can’t sleep. 

You grumble to yourself as you stand and stretch, pissed that you can’t even enjoy a day off without getting a good night's sleep. You decided to run some laps around the field to tyre yourself out and nap afterwards. 

And you did just that, running around the field for the past half an hour already, yet somehow you can feel that you’re more awake than usual. You know you’re physically tired, but your mental state refuses to calm down and screams at you. You sat on the ground hopelessly before lying on it, staring up at the sky as you let out a long, defeated sigh as you let out a few more grumble.

"Good morning, y/n" comes a voice as you glance to your left, recognising it as you divert your gaze from his shoe to his mask.

Good morning, Lieutenant Ghost, You reply back as you sit up and frown, slightly embarrassed that he saw you like this. 

"Grabbing coffee for them, coming along?" He asks as he shakes the car key in his left hand, his other resting in the pocket of his black hoodie. You nod as you stand up by yourself and brush away the dust as both of you head to the jeep.

You’ve done this routine before with Ghost, sometimes doing it yourself. The group likes to take turns buying coffee and breakfast every weekend near the base; even the barista and workers have already recognised you guys at this point. 

"Ah, it's you, 3 black coffees and 2 Earl Greys as per usual, yes?" Ghost nods to the shorter barista as she promptly prepares the drinks. You stood beside Ghost as you glanced around when you waited for the order before catching your sight on the fridge that displayed pastries and other small bites. 

swiss roll!! 

You take notice of the delicacy as you step closer to the glass. They rarely have cakes, at least whenever you come to visit anyway; mostly they display croissants or sandwiches, and you have to admit that the swiss roll they sell looks pretty good and tempting. 

Matcha, strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate

You take a close look at all the options as you stare excitedly. Ghost watches as he stands closer and bumps your shoulder. 

"Chocolate is good."

He whispers into your ears as you blush slightly at the sudden closeness and glance back at him. You nod as you stare back at that specific swiss roll. It even has what you assume is chocolate whipped cream with a small cherry on top. You whisper back softly as you grab his sleeve timidly. 

Can I try the cake with you?

You know you can finish this cake yourself, but you wanted to share it with him since he suggested it in the first place. 

Ghost blinks before nodding as he pats your hand, ordering the chocolate swiss roll as you smile and happily take a seat in the corner of the cafe. You watch as he brings the plate and sets it on the table. He hands you a fork as he watches you poke through the cake and take a bite.

!!! 

Your eyes beam as your face lights up when you have a taste; the soft, spongy chocolate cake is perfect, and paired with the chocolate whipped cream? It tasted like heaven. Ghost chuckles as he watches you take another bite. 

"Told ya"

You nod as you glance back at him with a giddy smile. You were right. You say as you take a much bigger part of the cake and hand the fork to him, and he nods as he pulls his balaclava to eat the cake, making sure he watches you from the corner of his eyes as he eats it. He likes seeing you take in the sight of him shamelessly, even if it's just his jaw and lips. He liked how you always stare and trail along the faint scar he has around the chin; it's as if you’re mapping him out and memorising his features. He gives a hum of approval as he finishes the bite and hands you back the fork, urging you to take more as you shake your head. 

"It's okay, kid, I’ve tried this cake before already. Eat."

He says this as you frown slightly and nod along, then enjoy the cake again as your brows slowly relax. He smiles as he continues to watch you eat; he knows that you’re always eager and tend to be more compassionate than the other members, even if you don't show it. Gestures like how you always save a seat for him in the planes beside Soap, or how you silently wipe and clean Soap’s guns after missions, or how you always helped Gaz with reports, and you always brew a cup of coffee for Captain when he needs it, your actions doesn't go unnoticed by him. 

Do you have a sweet tooth? 

The question caught him off guard as he watch your eye. He took a few moments to ground himself before nodding. He watched the glint of amusement in your eyes as you smiled and leaned in to ask another question. 

Then what’s your favourite dessert? 

He smiles at your question as he leans in and rests his arm on the table as he stares back at you. 

"Chocolate, if that wasn’t obvious enough already."

You chuckle as you shake your head and slightly poke his muscular arm. 

Yeah, I have an idea, obviously, but you know, like, what kind? Like chocolate bars? Cocoa drinks? Chocolate brownies? You know what I mean, you list out the example as you bite on the fork. 

He chuckles as he goes on and answers back, then you shoot another question and the process repeats. They may be small and mundane questions, but moments like this make him feel human again, to remind him that he is not just a war machine in this world, that he too has cravings and such, plus it also feels like you get to know him better, and perhaps this friendship can flourish more.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= a/n: am I biased towards Gaz? yes, yes I am(and yeah the gloves are from CSGO lol), like and reposts are appreciated! Have a good day/night! <3

[hyukalyptus]

not at all — hueningkai x chubby!fem!reader. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. first date, chubby!reader, mention of eating and drinking, reader's a bit tipsy, pet names (cutie, pretty i think), tummy love obvi, nipple play obvi, marking, biting, tiddy fuck <3, oral (m. receiving), jiggle, unprotected sex, creampie, body worship? notes. this is self indulgent AF!!! reposted from me my old acct, didn't rly edit, smut under cut. wc. 2.2K

“Kai!” You smile when you open the door, greeted by the cutest Kai you’ve ever seen, all dressed up, holding a bouquet of pink peonies, smelling of cologne. It’s only the second time you’ve seen him, but you didn’t think he could get any cuter after meeting him at the bookstore the other day—cute nose in a book, wavy hair falling over his eyes, biting his lip in concentration. 

You’d caught him off guard approaching him, recommending another book based on what he was reading and ended up chatting for a while. 

“Just let me know if you need any other book recommendations once you finish that one.”

“Okay, will do.” He smiled softly, nodding awkwardly.

“I’m gonna go now…so just let me know, yeah?” Pressing his lips together, he nodded again. “Are you here a lot?”

“No, I’m not here too often,” he said, scratching the back of his head. 

“I’m trying to get you to ask me for my number.” 

“Oh! Right, right…phone numbers—ha.” 

You simply look stunning. Your gorgeous dress hugs you in all the right places, accentuating your chest perfectly. It’s a totally different look from the sweater and jeans you were wearing the other day. So seeing your chest like this gives him heart eyes. He’s just absolutely, positively giddy looking at you. It’s difficult for him to even say, “For you,” while he hands you the flowers. 

“Oh, wow, thank you. How’d you know these were my favorite?” You giggle, letting him in your apartment, but he doesn’t go past the front entryway. He simply watches in awe while you find a vase, rambling a bit to him, not even noticing him shyly standing across the room. “Come over here, silly. Make yourself at home,” you say. 

Nodding, he slowly makes his way closer to you, but he does make a point to look over your apartment—noticing little details about you. The quirky gallery wall above your couch, the fancy olive oils near your stovetop, that book you bought from that bookstore where you met resting on your coffee table. “You’re so cute,” you say, his ears turning red hot. “Just come over and have a seat.” You motion to the bar stool behind the kitchen counter. 

Remembering this is a date and he can flirt with you a bit, he says, “You look really pretty.” It might not have been the cheekiest of flirting, but it’s still flirting. 

“Thank you,” you smile. “You look really pretty tonight too.” And he really does—he’s so, so pretty, almost ethereal, like there’s a glow around him. “So, whatcha got planned for us this evening?” You ask, leaning over the counter, sparkly eyes blinking up at him, tits peeking out over the neckline of your dress. He tries—really, he does—maintaining eye contact, but you’re so, so pretty too, he can’t look at your eyes either. 

So he opts for checking his watch before saying, “I’ve got reservations for us in about a half hour. We should probably get going actually.”

“Oh, okay! Sure,” you smile, grabbing your bag and heading out the front door. 

It’s such a cute, cozy place. All the walls and decor are so warm, it’d make anyone want to cuddle, but for touchy-feely people like the two of you, you’re already all cuddled into each other. 

The two of you clicked as soon as you sat down. You haven’t stopped giggling, touching his arm, you’ve caught him glancing down at your lips more than a few times. And he just can’t get enough of you. You are the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. He truly believes that. 

After dinner and a few glasses of wine later, you ask him—with your best please eyes—to walk you back home. And it’s a good thing too, because he was planning to anyway.

Both of your arms wrapped around one of his, he drags you back to your apartment, having the best time walking down a quiet sidewalk together. You look up at him, his strong nose undeniably noticeable, his pink, plush lips curling into a smile while he laughs with you. 

Oh, how you wanted him. He was simply adorable in the way he joked with you, held the door open for you, and reached for the bill. The whole evening, he was dipped in sugar. And he seemed like this big, tall teddy bear waiting to be devoured by you. 

“You wanna come up for another drink?” You asked, silently begging him with your pretty eyes, long eyelashes batting up at him. You weren’t sure where he was with everything, to be honest. You’d never know what he was thinking about you. 

But oh, how he wanted you. It was torture sitting next you, but he’d never let you know that. The way your tits were pushed up by your dress, spilling over the top as you leaned closer and closer to him, how he could see the indent of your belly button under the silky fabric, your thighs spread across the booth. You looked…delicious. He couldn’t wait to get you out of that dress, writhing underneath him while he kissed and bit your tummy for a minimum of ten minutes before flicking his tongue over your clit and oh, you legs wrapped around his head, he had to stop himself before it was too noticeable. 

Following you inside, you start pouring some more wine for the two of you, soon joining him on the couch. And it’s more of the same—laughing, giggling, joking, just having fun in each other’s company. It feels so good and natural being together. Soon enough, you’re not sure if it’s the wine or what, but something comes over you. 

He’s way too polite to initiate anything on a first date, but you? You need him, but you don’t want to come on too strong. The wine isn’t helping though. 

Your hand grazes his thigh and he swears his heartbeat is in his throat. “You look so pretty right now,” you whisper. He swallows, lips parting. “Just…” you trail off, taking a sip of the tarte, red wine, lips stained by now. “The way this candle flickers across your skin…you just look…wow.” 

“Thank you,” he chokes out. Is he even getting the hint? 

“You’re honestly probably the prettiest guy I’ve seen,” you say, setting your glass on the coffee table. “This nose is gorgeous.” You lightly drag the tip of your pinky down his bridge, punctuating it with a cute boop to the tip of his nose. “And your eyes…ah, so pretty.” You drag the pad of your thumb across his eyelashes as his eyes flutter shut. “And don’t even get me started on those lips.” You rest back against the couch, smirking at him. 

“No, no, go ahead,” he says, the slightest hint of a giggle in his voice. “What about my lips?”

Ah, he’s got the hint now. “Just how kissable they look. And…” you start, leaning closer to him, hand inching higher and higher on his thigh, faces close enough to feel each other’s breath on your lips. “I want them all over me.” 

Catching your lips with his, he carefully sets the wine glass down before squeezing your thigh, earning a nice groan from you. Pushing off his jacket, he slips his arms out of the sleeves, reaching for your waist, guiding you to straddle his lap. He’s surprisingly good at this based on his shy, cute demeanor throughout the rest of the evening. Legs falling over his, he cranes his neck to reach your lips before trailing down your neck, hands all over your hips. 

“Fuck…” you sigh, hands tangling into his hair. Already burying his face in your cleavage to kiss even more of your skin, both of your breathing starting to get heavy. “My, uh…my bedroom’s down that hallway,” you say and he got the hint immediately.

Hoisting you up with a grunt, thick legs wrapped around his waist, your lips part only briefly as he finds the door knob. Dropping you to your bed, you desperately unbutton his shirt before sliding it off him. He pushes your dress up past your waist, letting out a groan of relief at the sight of your tummy and how gorgeous it is. One hand on your waist, the other on your tit, he simply attacks it with kisses, sucks, and bites. 

You’re not really sure what he’s doing—no one’s ever done this with you before. He doesn’t stop showing your tummy love while his hips grind into the mattress. He must really love tummies. The idea of him pining after your belly all night fills you with butterflies. 

Turning away from him, he whines and pouts at the loss of your beauty, but you say, “I just want this dress off me.” Nodding, he finds the zipper, quickly pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor to get back to your tummy as soon as possible. It doesn’t last long, though, because once he squeezes your bare tit for the first time, his eyes widen before he makes his way back up to your chest, squishing them together to bury his face into. 

Finally flicking his tongue over your nipple, you moan so sexily, grinding your hips against him. Pushing him off you, you find a moment to flip him on his back, reaching for his pants button, slipping them off quickly. 

It’s your turn to shower his body with kisses and love, starting with a sweet, gentle kiss to his nose, making your way down his chest, licking over his nipples briefly, spending a good amount of time on his tummy, then his glorious thighs. And the beauty that is his cock—pinker than the rest of him and leaking wonderfully. 

Holding him gently, your mouth drops open, but you look up at him through your eyelashes for permission and he nods, eyebrows stitched together. Sinking your lips around his cock, you drag your lips down so slowly, making him whine, cheeks turning pink from embarrassment. One thing about him is…it doesn’t take much for him. Doesn’t take much before he starts begging…begging to fuck you. 

“Be patient, cutie.” And suddenly, you remember, this guy loves tummies and tits—you wrap your tits around his cock, bouncing them up and down and his brain short circuits. The sight of you like this—

“Holy fuck—” he gasps, head falling back against the pillow, rolling his hips between your cleavage. His dominant side seems to have completely vanished under everything you’re doing to him, which you love. Fingers fumbling as they try to wrap around your hair, breath rattling as your name leaves his mouth, toes curling. 

Releasing, you straddle his waist, his big hands squeezing your hips as you reach underneath yourself for his cock, rubbing it up and down your folds. 

He’s so tantalizing, it doesn’t take long to give into him, sinking down on him completely, his eyes slamming shut at the feeling of you. His hands are all over you. Squeezing your bouncing tits, pinching your waist, squishing your soft ass, holding your hips for stability. 

And goddamn does he feel good, reaching the deepest parts of you, giving you butterflies with the way he looks up at you, squeezing you in all the right places. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “You’re so…your cock feels…you—”

“I hope the ends of these sentences are good,” he chuckles. You simply don’t know what to do with yourself as you try grounding yourself by grabbing a tit, then running your hands through your hair, anything, but you can only nod before you find the strength to respond. 

“Yes, yes,” you pant. “You feel so, so, so good. Holy fucking shit.”

Fucking up into you, he’s desperately chasing his orgasm, cock sliding in and out of your pussy so deliciously. His breath is erratic as his head drops against his pillow, knots in his stomach tightening with each bounce, fiercely gripping your waist, orgasm quickly approaching. Your whines, the way you’re bouncing over him, the sight of your tits jiggling furiously sends him over the edge. 

And “Fuck, you’re perfect.” Everything about you. His legs involuntarily lift off the bed, muscles trembling as he cums inside you, the feeling washing over you as you’re chasing your own orgasm. 

But it doesn’t take long—one of his thumbs circling over your clit and the other over your nipple is more than enough to send you over the edge. You’re a whimpering mess, fucking yourself on his overstimulated cock, mouth dropping open, obscene sounds spilling out. Falling forward, your tits rub up against his chest as you ride it out. 

You don’t really do much—just lay on top of him while you two catch your breath, his fingertips dragging across your back until his cock slips out of you on its own. 

He finally breaks the silence, “Wow, that was…”

“Yeah, that was great,” you hold your head up to look down at him with a smirk, pecking his nose. “I like you.”

“Ah, stop…” he giggles. “I like you too.” You sit up, running your fingers through your hair and his hands find themselves in the pinch of your waist, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips, but he chuckles and says, “Oh my gosh, look.” You look down and three beautiful hickeys had already bloomed on your belly. He looks a bit embarrassed and admits, “Yeah, I kinda have a thing for tummies.”

“Oh yeah? I couldn’t tell,” you sarcastically, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Is that weird?”

You press gentle kisses to his jaw as you shake your head and say “Not at all, cutie.”

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 60: Fitz's Arrival

Prev > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, "kidnapping"

October 1925

The fog was thick and foreboding, the night chill and damp, as Alexander and Oliver made their way to the harbor district. Oliver was bundled in a fine wool coat lined with fur, a thick scarf and a practical hat, all provided by his master for his comfort, but he still felt a bit of the chill. Or perhaps it wasn't the weather at all, but his trepidation at meeting another vampire -- although this was, at least, one that his master trusted.

Alexander, on the other hand, seemed to have an unusual spring in his step despite the gloomy weather. Oliver thought that it might be the first time he'd noticed his master humming when it wasn't for the purpose of enthrallment. He'd been quite eager to get Oliver out the door, as well, explaining that his companion might get bored if he were left to wait long.

And so they were here on the docks with only a few dim gas lamps and a waning moon to keep Oliver from being as unable to see as when his eyes had been forced shut. Alexander had no such trouble, leading Oliver through the maze of crates and workers with ease.

"Hm, I thought he would be around here," said Alexander, brow furrowed. "Oliver, you wait here for a moment while I look around."

The last thing Oliver wanted was to be left alone in the dark. "But sir --"

A hand clapped over his mouth, an arm wrapped around him, and he was pulled backwards into the fog.

"Now, don't you worry," said a low, persuasive voice very near his ear. "You've got nothing to worry about. Trust me."

Oliver let out a muffled cry, hoping his master could hear, as he kicked at his assailant. He was unnaturally strong and the hand on his face was freezing cold -- a vampire, no doubt. His master's friend? But why would his master's friend…

"Ooh, you're more feisty than I expected. Just relax, okay? I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax…"

The hand on his face didn't feel cold any more, quite the opposite. A sensation of delicious warmth seemed to be radiating from the vampire, dulling Oliver's senses and enticing him to be at ease.

"There you go! Just be quiet," he said in a tone that made it very clear he knew the effect it would have on Oliver. "You can be quiet for me, can't you? So, so quiet…"

Oliver struggled to fight the twin effects of the euphoric touch and repeated hypnotic triggers, but he was rapidly losing. All his mind wanted to do was sink into this feeling of delicious drowsiness. "Master…" he called weakly.

"I told you, don't worry. Your master knows exactly where you are. Everything is going to be fine," said the vampire, and Oliver couldn't help but believe him. He certainly felt like everything was going to be fine as he slumped over in the stranger's arms.

The vampire removed his hand from Oliver's face, pinning him against a warehouse wall and running a gentle hand down his cheek and through his hair. The touch felt like nothing Oliver had experienced before, like cool, fresh water given to a parched man, drinking it in as much as he could and still not having enough. As the vampire became barely visible in the dim light, Oliver could see golden hair and a brash, confident grin, the face of a con-man who knew he was going to get away with it. He pressed his head into the vampire's hand, trying to get more of the heavenly touch, eyes half-lidded and already far gone.

"You were right, Lex," said the vampire. "He's absolutely ideal, a real treasure."

"Just as I told you." Alexander emerged from the fog. He looked calm, even happy, even though his thrall was currently very much in the clutches of another vampire. Even through Oliver's daze, he realized that this vampire really must be his master's friend, Fitz. "Have you had your fill of terrorizing poor Oliver, yet?"

"Terrorizing?" Fitz's laugh was as untrustworthy as his smile. "Why, Lex, I would never! Does your Oliver look terrorized to you?" He was practically pressed against Oliver now, brushing Oliver's hair from his eyes, running a finger down the side of his face and letting it linger on his lips.

Oliver could feel the euphoric delight of Fitz's touch even more strongly now, and with his master safely nearby and unconcerned, any desire he had to resist gave way to pleasure. "Mmm," he said, not even fully aware of how shamelessly he was nuzzling into Fitz's hand. His mind was fading away, only able to focus on how he needed more.

"You see, he's not terrorized at all. Are you, Oliver? Are you scared of me?"

"No, sir," he said, blinking slowly. "Not at all."

"I suppose you're all right then, aren't you?" said Alexander, and his master was at his side now, running his hand through Oliver's hair.

Oliver thought he might melt in this spot from the sheer pleasure, his knees growing weak. "I'm all right, sir," he said dreamily.

"Good boy," Fitz murmured into his ear. "You're very good for your master, aren't you?"

"I want to please him more than anything, sir…"

"Fitz," said Alexander with a hint of warning. "Do you really want to do this on a filthy, cold dock, when we could be entrancing Oliver in my library or bedroom?"

An involuntary shudder rippled through Oliver at the prospect of being taken into his master's bedroom to be entranced by him and his friend.

Fitz let out a dramatic mock sigh. "You have a point. I guess if I've been waiting this long, I can wait a little longer. Besides, I haven't greeted you properly yet."

"What do you mean…?"

Fitz relinquished his grasp on Oliver and scooped Alexander into his arms, twirling him around as though they were schoolchildren. Oliver shook himself a bit out of his trance to watch them. Alexander had a genuinely bright smile on his face in a way Oliver had never seen before, not even when Oliver was a free man and a shopkeep providing Alexander with a long sought after book, not even when his master drank. They kissed, and the kisses drew lower, down each other's necks…

So this was what truly pleased his master. Was it jealousy he felt? Perhaps he'd become used to being the center of Alexander's world, a comfort in captivity.

"They're always like this."

Oliver yelped at the voice right behind him, turning around to see a taller man with a plain brown suit and equally plain brown hair. He was dragging a huge steamer trunk behind him, and Oliver wasn't sure how he didn't hear this man's approach.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to startle you," he said. "You must be Oliver. I'm Roger, and I belong to the vampire you just… well, I suppose "met" isn't exactly the right word for it."

"Oh! You're a thrall, too?" Oliver was pleased that Fitz had brought along a thrall for him to talk to, especially one who seemed very put together. He held out his hand to shake. "It's good to meet you!"

Roger's handshake was firm. "Likewise. I hope my master's prank wasn't too troublesome."

"Well, it was surprising… but I can see now that he wasn't going to harm me."

Fitz, having put Alexander back on the ground, wrapped an arm around Roger. "My ears are burning. Are you talking about me?"

"I just think that you didn't have to manhandle Oliver by way of greeting, sir."

"How could I resist? You just don't understand how blood like yours and Oliver's smells. If you were in my shoes, you couldn't resist, either," He turned to Oliver. "But I guess I didn't properly introduce myself. I'm Fitz, an old friend of your master's."

"Nice to meet you, sir," said Oliver, shaking Fitz's outstretched hand. "My master told me a bit about you."

"About how handsome and charming I am, no doubt," said Fitz, using the contact to pull Oliver closer. Oliver could feel the drowsy trance stealing over him again as he mindlessly shook Fitz's hand.

"Perhaps, but also about how you can't leave well enough alone." Alexander's hands closed around Oliver's shoulders, and he gently pulled him away from Fitz. "We should head back to the manor, not stand on the docks until the sun comes up."

"Of course." Fitz flashed a cheeky smile at Oliver, and Oliver couldn't quite make up his mind about this vampire. He could feel himself crave more of that touch, and wasn't sure he liked the hold it already had on him.

"You're not seriously making Roger drag your luggage, are you, when you could easily do it yourself?" Alexander asked, taking the handle of the steamer trunk from Roger.

"Roger doesn't mind. That's what thralls are for, right?"

Roger ignored him. "Thank you for taking the luggage, sir," he said to Alexander.

"It's no problem."

The group began to make their way out of the chill and foggy docks and into the slightly more hospitable city streets. "So how was your voyage, Fitz? As miserable as you made it seem?"

"Miserable and more! There was a storm the first night. The seas were so rough that I could barely even stay put in my bunk. Roger here was an absolute saint, comforting me in my hour of need."

"I believe you spent half the voyage gnawing on my neck, sir."

"Just little sips! It calms the mind, you know," said Fitz. "And how have you been, Lex? Apart from the…" He gestured towards Alexander's bandaged hand.

"Fine, apart from the unwelcome visit of my sire. But we shouldn't speak of such unhappy things now that you've arrived. This wound will heal quickly once I drink, but I was making sure to save Oliver for the both of us to share."

Fitz's arms wound around Alexander's waist. "That's very thoughtful of you. We'd better get home quickly, then."

…So they were going to drink from him shortly after arriving at the manor. Oliver tried not to feel a bit of a thrill from it. He was less scared of Fitz feeding from him after his experience on the docks.

Soon enough, they arrived back home. Fitz spread out his arms and took a deep breath. "Ahhhh, how I missed that musty old library smell."

Alexander was taking his shoes off, and as soon as he had, Fitz had him pressed up against the wall. "We're not on the docks any more, and my patience has run out." He caught Alexander with a fierce, shameless, deep kiss, one which seemed to last forever. Alexander groped at his back, pulling him closer.

Oliver stared down at the floor, mortified, not sure what he should be doing, until Roger loudly cleared his throat.

"Ah, Roger," said Fitz, entirely too casually as he came up for air. "Why don't you and Oliver entertain each other for a bit?"

"Yes, that's a good idea." Alexander seemed strained, as if pulling himself away from Fitz required all of his effort. "You can have your pick of guest rooms on the second floor - Oliver can show you to them. And if you want any refreshments, the kitchen is all yours. We just have some… matters to attend to."

"'Matters to attend to.'" Fitz laughed. "You never change, do you?"

"No, generally I don't." He swept up Fitz easily into his arms and dashed up the stairs to the third floor, Fitz laughing all the way.

Oliver watched after them with a mix of curiosity and jealousy. He'd half expected the hungry vampires to enthrall and feed from him the second they reached home, and couldn't help a bit of disappointment that they hadn't. Perhaps that would come later. No doubt Fitz would be occupying his master's bed instead of him.

"Don't you think they're a bit ridiculous?" said Roger.

"Oh… I suppose they are, yes," said Oliver. It almost seemed a bit forbidden to admit that his master could be ridiculous, even though it had crossed his mind before. If he was going to have to accompany Roger while Alexander and Fitz entertained each other, he was glad that he seemed to be a very lucid thrall, unafraid of his master. That was a good sign, too, for what sort of vampire Fitz was. "Is there anything I can get for you? I could show you to a room, or if you wanted some food or drink…"

"I'd very much appreciate food and drink, if it's not too much trouble. The ship had ample food, but the serving times weren't ideal for a nocturnal schedule."

"Of course it isn't trouble," said Oliver, pleased to be helpful. "How about a sandwich, then? The bread is yesterday's, but we have some fine ham and salami and other trimmings."

"That'll do. Thank you."

Oliver led Roger into the kitchen, casting one last glance up the stairs, wondering what his master and his master's friend were doing now.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Thank you for reading sixty parts of The Rare Bookseller! I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while.

Next week, the aftermath of Fitz's kidnapping in 1905.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

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@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter

[leaawrites]

Shower Secret

Oliver Wood x fem!Hufflepuff!reader

Words: 0,7k

Warnings: making out, indication of sex, Harry getting pushed off his broom(?), indication of nudity, grammar mistakes (maybe? English isn't my first language)

Materlist

There wouldn't be any reason to keep the relationship between a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff a secret. If the Hufflepuff wasn't the shame of an all Slytherin family. So, Oliver Wood had to keep his relationship extra secret with the outsider girl.

With her reputation and the things that happened to her, Y/n couldn't be less worth to her parents. But with You-know-who being out and about, even her dissapointed parents didn't want her to get into it too much. So they kept an eye on her and made sure someone always watched what she was doing. If her parents found out she was dating some gryffindor, y/n didn't want to challenge someone and guess what they would do to Oliver.

After the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, Oliver let himself ignore everyone that tried to come near him. That also counted for her.

When Y/n tried to make him talk to her, he only pushed her off and walked past her into a direction she couldn't see from the people that were running in her vision.

Harry was just being thrown off his broom by a dementor and now everyone needed to know what was going on with him, immediatly.

Y/n made her way to the Hospital Wing, pushing past the people who gave her dirty looks in the process or even yelling at her to get out. Fred and George apeared at the door, wanting to tell the others off when their eyes found Y/n's e/c one's.

"He's in the washingrooms," George called out to her, knowing who she truly cared for more.

Y/n rolled her eyes when she had to push past the ever growing crowed again. She made her way to the washingrooms, ignoring the eyes she felt on her as she past through the halls of Hogwarts.

The air was cold and in the process of almost freezing to death (or at least feeling like she will), Y/n opened the door without knocking. No one else was in there without Oliver.

"Olli?" She called out for him. The water stopped spilling and Y/n could hear the defeated and disappointed sigh leaving hef boyfriend's lips.

"Go away," He told her. "I'm not in the mood to talk about what happened."

Y/n slowly stripped off her shirt and trousers, only left in her underware, when she heard the shower being turned on again. She opened the shower curtain that hit Oliver and peeked inside. Oliver was leaning with his head against the wall, his eyes not darting in her direction, but instead they were focused on the crowd.

"We still lost," He said. "It's so unfair. Harry should've just got that snitch and then we would've won and still have a chance for the Quidditch cup."

Y/n touched his spine with her nose, leaning into his body. "You know it's not that easy. You know that better than anyone. And you still have a chance on the Quidditch Cup." She argued.

"But-" He stopped, not knowing what he wanted to argue himself.

"It's gonna be alright," She assured him, making him sigh again, but this time in relief. He always had someone who supported him. He knew that now better than ever.

"What if someone walks in?"

Y/n thought for a minute, would her answer scare him off? "I don't care," she whispered, kissing just below his ear and leaving small pecks down his neck. "They will probably out before noticing who it is anyway." Both laughed at that.

Oliver turned around, his hands holding her hips, while hers laid on his chest, drawing small shapes on his skin. "You make me go crazy."

"Oh yeah?" She asks teasingly, her toungue pulled between her teeth.

"Extremly." He kisses her, deeply devouring the taste of her lips. "I actually just train this hard for Quidditch to impress you." He breaks the kiss.

"Liar." Y/n answers without hesitation.

"I've got caught," He inhales sharply as her hands traveled lower with each word he spoke.

"You make me go crazy as well," She answeres, pulling him into another hot kiss.

The steam of the shower made the tension between them grow more lustful.

"Do you wanna continue this here or somewhere more private?" Y/n asked, pulling away and almost slipping from the water under her feet. Oliver held her steady and laughed as she straightend up again. "And not so slippery," She added.

[st-eve-barnes]

Pretty little liars (chapter 2)

(Felix Catton x fem Reader)

Summary: Felix Catton was the embodiment of everything you hated, yet you loved him like you never imagined one human being could love another. But as with all good things, you didn't know what you had until it was stolen from you.

This Chapter: You give into your feelings for Felix and Saltburn takes over your life.

Word count: +2400

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Enemies to lovers vibes. Oral (fem & male receiving), p in v sex, fingering, ... Jealousy, voyeurism, secrets, toxic relationships, mentions of death. Oliver being his creepy little self.

ANGST/smut/fluff (do I ever write anything else? lol)

Masterlist for this fic

***

All these and older fics are also on AO3 If you want to support my writing you can Buy me a KoFi or feed me with a lovely comment ;)

***

Just a few weeks ago you had zero interest in Felix Catton.

Right now you wished you had a time machine so you could travel back to that last moment where he meant absolutely nothing to you.

How quickly your irritation had evolved into infatuation, to the point where he now walked around in your head as if he owned the place.

And it wasn’t just Felix who had taken over. Saltburn was in your head now too.

There was no turning back.

You walked through the grass of the estate barefoot that afternoon. You had skipped a few parties, forcing yourself to put some distance between yourself and this place, but it kept calling you back. 

There was a quietness behind these walls you couldn’t find anywhere else. When you were here it was almost as if the rest of the world seized to exist and in this new world everything was perfect and shiny and beautiful all the time. 

Saltburn offered you an escape, it allowed you to disappear and be someone else. Someone better than who you actually were.

And it allowed you to be where Felix was.

You found him by the water, sitting by himself, playing with the grass and smoking his cigarette.

It was useless to keep lying to yourself, there was not a single soul in here you wanted to be near. Except for him. You were under his spell, blinded by his light and drawn to it at the same time. Like a moth to a flame. You made your way over and without saying a single word sat down next to him on the grass.

He was barefoot, like you, only wearing shorts and a colorful shirt, one that matched your orange summer dress. He didn’t say anything but the corners of his mouth curled up into a barely noticeable smirk at seeing you here.

He took one long drag from his cigarette and then handed it to you.

Without even thinking you put your lips to it and breathed, ignoring the fact that you were a non smoker. You burst out in a coughing fit as soon as the smoke hit your lungs.

Felix laughed and gently slapped you on the back.“Don’t choke on it, new girl,” he teased.

You gave him back the cigarette. You weren’t even sure why you accepted it in the first place.

That was a lie. You knew exactly why. Because it was his, because it was a way to feel closer to him, because you would take whatever scraps he was willing to give you.

It was pathetic and you would never admit it to anyone, least of all to yourself.

“Stop calling me new girl,” you then teased him,”I’ve been coming here for over a month now, find something more original.”

“Okay, don’t choke on it, annoying girl,” he rolled his eyes at you.

You hadn’t meant to laugh but you couldn’t help yourself and when Felix joined you the tension broke almost instantly. You dared to turn your head to look at him. As soon as your eyes met the tension was back, but it was a different kind now.

“You came back,” Felix stated softly and you nodded.

“Felt like I didn’t have a choice.”

“Why is that?”

“This place seems to have some magnetic pull on me, I can’t seem to shake it no matter how hard I try.”

Felix stared into your eyes, lips curling up into a small grin again,”Just this place?”

You stared right back at him, allowing yourself to drown into those deep brown eyes while you shook your head.”No, not just the place,” you confessed,”You.”

Felix’s hand moved to the small of your back, eyes never leaving yours as he guided you forward and into his lap. It was so easy to just follow his lead, let his big hands mold you and place you exactly where he wanted you. Legs straddled on either side of him, his forehead resting gently against yours, a gesture too delicate for two people who didn’t like each other all that much.

Or was that just another lie you told yourself?

“Come here,” he whispered, cupping your cheek to pull you in and kiss you. Soft, slow, greedy. His thumb tracing your jaw and your neck in the process until you finally melted into him and kissed him back.

“Who are you, annoying girl?” he breathed into the kiss.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” you teased him.

Felix shut you up with another kiss.

***

It would be a lie to say you didn’t want to fuck him after that. Of course you did. You were no longer immune to his charm or his affections towards you. But more than anything you just wanted to be his friend, be around him, share in his light and his warmth.

And Felix was generous with both, especially towards you. 

You didn’t sleep with him at first, not even after he’d started taking you up to his room to escape the others and spend more time alone with you.

You’d watch movies, read books and laugh. And kiss. You could kiss him for hours and not do anything else, or need anything else.

The end credits of The talented Mr Ripley were playing on the tv screen in front of you. You and Felix were both leaning against the headboard of his king sized bed, the windows open to let in the soft summer breeze. Felix’s hand was resting casually on your knee while he was chatting about the movie.

“All I’m saying is sometimes people don’t have layers, sometimes…we are exactly what everyone thinks we are,” Felix stated.

“Do you really believe that? I think everyone has layers, even the people you wouldn’t expect it from. Especially the people you wouldn’t expect it from.”

He smiled down at you but shook his head.”People are simple.”

“People are complicated,” you disagreed,”You can’t just take one look at someone and read their entire personality.”

“But sometimes you can though.”

“But that’s just prejudice based on cliches.”

“And cliches exist because they are based on truth.”

You gave him a look but he didn’t budge.

“Alright, take me for example," he continued,"It didn’t take you that long to figure me out, did it?”

You shook your head with a smile,”Felix Catton, I still haven’t figured you out.”

He laughed,”But you have. You pegged me as a spoilt, ignorant, rich kid who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter, who goes through life like it’s a fucking breeze. And…I can’t even argue with it because I am exactly that.”

“But you are more than that, Felix.”

“Just because you want me to be doesn’t make it so. What if this is it? What if there are no layers?”

You covered his large hand with your small one and squeezed softly while shaking your head.

“So you’re a walking cliche, got it,” you teased and much to your relief it made him smile.

“What about me?” you then asked,”What cliche am I?”

He immediately shook his head,“Oh no, I'm not getting in trouble by answering that question."

“Come on, I won’t be offended,” you looked into his eyes,”Tell me who I am.”

“Okay,” he nodded and took a moment before he answered,”You’re the girl who tries very hard to be different from other girls while deep down you’re dying to be just like them.”

Your smile faded at his words and Felix shook his head,”See? I’m in trouble.”

“No, you're not,” you reassured him,”Tell me more.”

“You’re constantly torn between wanting to stand out or wanting to fit in, wanting to be seen and noticed or wanting to be invisible and not be perceived by anyone. Sometimes…it’s like you’re performing, because you think it’s what people want from you.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, taking his time to take you all in.”It's not what I want from you."

You stared at him.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, carefully.

"For you to not be afraid to show me...what's underneath."

"What if you don't like what's underneath?"

Felix gave you a soft smile,"I can’t see anything I won’t like about you, Y/N.”

You returned his smile but shook your head.

Oh, but you will.

You didn’t speak those words out loud but your heart was pounding so heavily you were sure he had to hear it as well.

But he just continued,“The truth is I can’t figure you out for the life of me. And it drives me fucking insane because I really, really want to.”

He moved over you on the bed, placing himself in between your legs, his face level with yours as he looked deep into your eyes. The mood in the entire room changed.

“There’s a darkness in you,” he spoke softly,”You hide it well but it’s there…I can feel it. And I...I can’t look away from it."

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, opening you up to him."I want to drown in it," he whispered,"And in you.”

His mouth devoured yours in a deep, hungry kiss.

This one was different from all the kisses you’d shared with him before, there was a possessiveness to it that shook you to the core.

You’d kissed him back with that same fire, pushing at his shirt to take it off, your hands caressing his back, his shoulders, his ass, any piece of him you could grab hold of.

Felix moaned into your mouth when you wrapped your legs around him, dragging him closer. His large hands moved over your stomach to push up your summer dress and help you lift it up over your head, leaving you almost completely bare for him.

Then he was kissing your neck, your nipples, your stomach and your thighs. Your underwear was pulled from you, replaced by his mouth and his tongue circling your clit and invading your walls until you soaked his bed, his name a desperate plea on your lips, begging for more.

And once again he was generous, giving you what you’d been craving for a while now, both of you desperately pulling at his shorts to free his cock.

And then he was fucking you, slowly and thoroughly, soothing away your last doubts and fears one thrust at a time.

Your life without Felix Catton was a thing of the past now.

***

You’d started spending the night more often after that. You didn’t always fuck, sometimes you still just watched movies together or read, you at one side of the bed and Felix on the other.

You had barely seen Bella lately, she was always occupied with Oliver. It seemed unhealthy but then weren’t you doing the exact same thing with Felix? You realized you were in no position to judge her so you didn’t and the contact between you two faded.

The summer seemed to drag on forever, so did the heat. Your life outside of Saltburn became smaller and smaller, sometimes you weren’t even sure if you still existed outside of these walls.

You were there almost every day now. There was an extra plate at the breakfast table for you, even though you had never asked for it.

Life was good. Surreal. You couldn’t see the cracks yet, even though they were right there in front of you, if only you had paid attention.

You sank down deeper into the bathtub, Felix’s bathtub, closing your eyes and letting the water overtake you for just a moment. It was past midnight, the only lights in the room the candles Felix had lit for you a little earlier.

He would be passed out on the bed by now. He had insisted you take all the alone time you needed to relax and then join him for the night.

It was quiet in Saltburn, and even though the bath was cooling you down sweat was already forming on your forehead again. You were starting to feel a little claustrophobic so you carefully stepped out of the bath to open a window.

It was only then that you noticed the door was ajar. Not the door to Felix’s room but the door that lead to one of the connecting guest rooms. It was probably just the wind you had created yourself by opening the window but it made you feel unnerved anyway. You grabbed a towel to cover yourself up and slowly stepped closer to the door. You could have sworn you’d seen something move and while you couldn’t be sure the cold chill running down your spine was telling you someone had been watching you this entire time.

“You done here?”

You jumped and let out a scream when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Whoa, hey, it’s just me,” Felix reassured you, lifting up both hands in defense,”Don’t scream like that, love, you’ll wake everyone up.”

“God, fuck, sorry, you startled me.”

”That’s some guilty conscience to make you jump like that,” he teased but you ignored his comment.

You reached out to grab his shirt and Felix didn’t hesitate to pull you into a warm, solid hug.”Hey, you’re okay, babe, everything’s alright,” he soothed you in a sweet voice, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“What’s back there?” you asked softly,”Behind that door.”

“That door?” Felix asked surprised,”That’s just Ollie’s room.”

“Oliver? He shares a bathroom with you?”

“Yeah, he probably just forgot to lock it before he went to sleep,” Felix let go of you to close the door.”See, no harm done, it happens,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t shake the bad feeling in the pit of your stomach but you didn’t feel it was your place to comment on it beyond that. After all you hadn’t actually seen anything and it was probably just your imagination or the wind. 

Oliver was a good guy, he wouldn't do something like that, you still believed that at the time. There was nothing to worry about.

“Hey,” Felix cupped your cheek and locked eyes with you,”You’re too tense, babe. Come on, I can take care of that.”

He leaned in to place a few playful kisses in your neck while his hands moved down your sides, pulling your towel with him until it ended up on the floor and you were naked in his arms.

"Oops," he smirked.

“Felix,” you giggled.

“Get on my bed, princess, now,” he teased and then slapped your ass before following you back to his bedroom.

Felix made sure you didn't think about Oliver again that night, or the days after that and you happily let yourself forget all about the wandering eyes behind that bathroom door.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Hi. I hope your day is being kind to you. 🙂

For the sentence Ask?

"My ears miss your heartbeat."

With Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) please? If you want.

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

A/N: Sorry, this went well over an extra 5 sentences. I guess I really just needed to write.

Warning: Tooth rotting domestic fluff

Word Count: 1.1K

Astarion didn’t make a sound as he slipped through the front door, stilling the bell with his hand before it could alert anyone to his presence.

The shop was completely empty, which would not be unusual at this time of night were it any other shop in town. The owner kept odd hours, not opening until well after sunset, the exception being when his wife managed to stumble down the stairs past noon to take orders. An odd set up, but nobody could deny the craftsmanship and so there was little to grumble about.

Astarion moved through the space with practiced ease, not bothering to light a candle as he moved towards the back room and up a small flight of stairs. He did not so much glance at the rolls of golden thread, or dig around the drawers for where he knew a small fortune of gems and finery could be found and easily pocketed. Such treasures were far from his mind at that moment.

Jumping the last few steps, he easily avoided the small creak of the second to top panel before deftly maneuvering his way through the waiting door.

The barest breath of relief escaped his lips. The entryway was completely dark, only just illuminated by the street lanterns peaking through the barest sliver of heavy curtains. Once again his dark vision proved a blessing as he took a quick look around.

The room was empty of anything other than comfortable but undeniably stylish furniture and the lines of bookshelves full bear to bursting along the walls. He slipped off his boots, placing them gently near the door making it almost comical how silently he could move along the beautifully embroidered rug. It felt like cheating, but then again, since when was he above cheating.

One final door lay in front of him. At his feet he could see the smallest flicker of candle light peaking out from below the door frame. Somebody was still up.

With a grin, he turned the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open.

It was moments like these that cause Astarion to lament not having a more artistic hand. The being before him deserved to be preserved in oils and canvass, marble and stone.

She did not notice him come in. Her clear blue eyes were focused intensely on the page in front of her, her finger moving slowly under the words while her soft lips mouthed them in time. Her hair lay loose about her, a few strands tucked behind her ear. Astarion could just catch the barest hints of white hiding in the field of black, something she would no doubt deny the existence of if he pointed them out. Her dark olive skin seemed to glow in the firelight, but the final detail that make his unbeating heart stir was the fact she was dressed only in his shirt.

On second thought, maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t a painter. He didn’t much like the thought of anyone else gazing on this image but him.

“Hello darling,” he said, softly.

Evie’s head snapped up, her eyes going wide in alarm as her hand gripped the book in her hand as of to throw it. As soon as he caught the quick progression of fear to recognition to annoyance slip across her face he let out a laugh.

“Milil’s tongue Astarion,” she grumbled, snapping her book shut. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“Just be happy I’m the one doing it,” he teased, setting down his bag beside the door. “You’re getting slow my love.”

She gave a small pout, but still rolled onto her back, opening her arms to him.

He didn’t need further incentive, launching himself onto the bed causing them both to bounce and his love to laugh. Gods he missed that sound. However, he decided he missed her lips more, kissing her soundly as they both sunk into the too soft mattress.

“Good trip then?” she asked in between his attentions to her mouth.

“Tedious,” he corrected. “Better if you were there.”

“Well if it was so tedious I’m glad I skipped it.”

Astarion gave a huff of annoyance moving his lips across her face and jaw and down towards her neck. He took a deep breath in, the musk of her skin mixing with the perfume of her blood pulsing just below. He could drown in that scent.

“Hungry,” she asked, turning her neck slightly in invitation.

He shook his head pressing a kiss against the fading scars.

“No need darling, just enjoying being home.”

He didn’t need to look up to know she was smiling. He could feel it in the way her hands rubbed up and down his back and brushed the stray hairs at the back of his neck. All the same, he decided to look anyway.

This was his home. Even all these years later, he still had a hard time believing it. He and Evie had all but hung up their adventuring gear and settled in a town just big enough to justify a fine tailor shop. The occasional helpless damsel or bandit gang causing trouble could pull them from their daily routines, but little else. They were both getting older and ready for a place to call their own, something that was denied to them for so long. Even stranger and more wonderful still, Evie had agreed to marry him.

She brushed a stray hair back from his forehead, her fingers tracing down his face before teasing the edge of his ear.

“I missed you, too,” she said, her full love only just tempered by a hint of humor.

He didn’t have the strength to pull away from that perfect touch, and settled kissing her sternum in response.

“I did plenty more than just miss you darling,” he confessed. “There are too many parts of me that miss too many parts of you.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “For example, my lips missed your lips quite a bit.”

“I gathered,” she said with a barely contained laugh. “What else?”

“My hair missed your fingers.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement as her hand moved slightly up, allowing her fingers to comb slowly through his hair.

Astarion sighed in contentment, settling his head to rest comfortably on her chest.

“Go on my love,” Evie encouraged. “Don’t stop now.”

“My arms missed your warmth,” he said, wrapping himself tighter around her for emphasis. “My nose missed your smell. But if I really had to name it, my ears missed your heart beat the most.”

“And you say you’re not a sentimental,” she teased.

“Exceptions are always made for you my heart.”

She hummed in acknowledgment settling into the sheets, her fingers still running soothingly through his hair.

Astarion feel asleep in her arms as he had done for countless nights and hopefully countless more; safe, loved and truly home.

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 25

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, demisexuality on full display, language, mentions of minor character death, baby can you taste the foreshadowing in this chapter?

✦ Word Count: 5.2k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

[Master List]

Tony has absconded your rotary phone and secluded himself in the living room, calling numerous numbers on a list he keeps waving around in his hand as he paces back and forth. You watch him go, catching only a few words of his rapid-fire conversation before you move to join the others at the back of the house.

The three rooms at the rear of the home had once been an office, a ladies’ parlor, and a dining area. You had them all converted to be one large library. While the archways remained in place, separating the three areas, they looked nearly identical. Emerald wallpaper covered the tiny slivers of walls that weren’t obscured by the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

Clint is sitting on the chaise lounge with his legs kicked up over the powder blue fabric, his head dangles over the edge. Steve is respectfully listening along to whatever Bruce is working on. The doctor had found an old chalkboard of yours and was currently writing down several things with a small stub of white chalk.

Looking to your left, you see the assassin currently perusing the shelves in the first room - where your oldest items were held. While, ordinarily, you wouldn’t want anyone to be anywhere near those books and scrolls, you knew you could trust the redhead with the precious items. 

Wordlessly, you slide past the archer.

Natasha is hunched slightly as she stares at a framed document on the wall.

“Wow, an MA from Cornell?”

Her eyes flicker up as you move to stand beside her. Crossing your arms, you stare at the old degree.

“Mhmm.”

“It’s a good forgery,” she comments. “Did you get Brandon or Nadia to do it?”

Back in your SHIELD agent days, those two were the best when it came to making forged documents: passports, ID cards, certificates, you name it.

But you merely shake your head, chuckling as you lean your weight down onto the edge of the small wooden desk, “No, that one’s legitimate.”

She’s silent for just a moment before she hums, “That makes sense.” And then she’s turning to look at you, snapping a ball of evergreen gum, “How many more you got hiding around here?”

“Oh,” you smile, easing up from your spot. 

Crossing the room, you bend down to pick up a stack of frames, all lying on the carpet beside an olive-green velvet armchair. You flip through them, old memories pulling up to the surface as you view the degrees for the first time in a long while.

“I have nine here,” you say as you hand them over to Natasha, one by one. “University of Sydney, Art Institute of Chicago, Royal College of Arts, University of London, uh… Bedford - that was my first medical degree, Göttingen, Washington University.”

She smiles that secretive little smile of hers as she inspects each one. Holding up the last frame, she states, “This looks pretty old.”

You snort, “Near ancient really. That was… Cronus, 1794? They started allowing women into their lectures just a few years before that. Actually! My oldest one is from Bologna, in Italy. That was…1431?”

Her brows arch, “They gave women degrees in the 15th century?”

“13th. Professoressa Gozzadini was one of the first to graduate and teach at the university. I sat in for a few of her lectures, but law was never really my interest.”

She lets out a low whistle, “Look at you. Probably the most educated out of the group.”

With a shrug, you take back the frames - returning them to their rightful spot in a pile on the floor, “I’m not the one who went to MIT, I don’t have any degrees in engineering or mathematics. I certainly wouldn’t call myself the most educated.”

She reclines back on the desk across from you, “Why did you bother?”

“Pursuit of knowledge, mostly. And, back then, before a government-appointed forgery artist, you had to have an MA to be a museum curator. I mean, once I started working for SHIELD, I had a few made up just to give me access to other places. It tends to raise a few brows when you show up with a degree marked thirty years older than what you look, you know?”

Natasha offers you a gentle laugh.

“I imagine so.”

“So, even though I have fake degrees from Yale, and Harvard, and U of M, and Cambridge, I’ve only ever actually attended about ten universities?”

“More than me. The KGB didn’t really hand out degrees for… my training.”

Your smile fades as you watch the flicker of something distant dance in her green eyes.

While you had checked in on everyone earlier that afternoon, Natasha had been with Clint when you came in. He had assured you that they were both fine then and she had nodded in agreement. But you could tell, there was far more under the surface than she was willing to let see the light of day.

“You doing okay?” you ask, voice hesitant as you move closer to her.

She glances up, back down, and then up again, “Mhmm.”

“Hey,” you draw closer, enough to gently nudge her arm with your elbow. “It’s honestly no one's business, but… if you did want to talk to someone other than Barton about it… I mean, we’re the only two women here and I imagine, even though you guys are friends, it might be harder to talk about some of these things. I don’t know, I’m not great at the whole friend thing these days.”

She snorts, a smile playing on her lips as she looks over at you.

“You’re doing fine, Seven. And you know, me and Clint aren’t just friends. I can tell him pretty much anything and he’ll listen. Even if he’s got his aids out.”

There’s a nod of understanding as you breathe out, “Yeah, I guess you two have been through a lot together. Budapest and all that, right? Hard to shake a friend like that.”

Natasha pauses, dropping a hand to your wrist as she meets your eyes.

“We’re more than friends. I mean, don’t go… talking about it to everyone. But, wow, I thought we were a little more transparent?”

Your line of thinking pauses, resets, and starts moving again before you’re able to get any words out that sound even remotely coherent.

“Oh… you’re… together?”

She nods, offering a little humming sound.

“I did not know that.”

The redhead laughs, “Well, welcome to the party. Everyone else has been pretty… respectful about it actually.”

You shake your head, “No, I honestly had no idea. That whole… realm? That’s kind of beyond me.”

She blinks.

“Relationships?”

Looking toward the wall of shelves where medieval manuscripts and musty age-worn books reside, you take a steadying breath.

“Romantic relationships. Eros, if you will.”

She lets the words sit for a minute before she says anything further.

“I mean, I didn’t want to perpetuate the virgin goddess stereotype, but…”

“Hey,” you shove her arm. “I got enough of that kind of talk from Sharon. I don’t need you jumping into it too.”

“Carter?”

You hum in reply.

It may have only been a year since you last encountered the blonde agent. But your short time on Olympus with the humans had been cemented in your mind for some time now. You could recall the young woman’s words, her inquiries into your… past love life, or lack thereof.

Humans spoke so freely about that topic these days. But… that was not for you. And though you understood their curiosity when it came to you, they had to know that the way you existed was far different than the way they did when it came to love. 

You knew the worlds of agápē and philia. Even storge, philuatia, and xenia. But eros… that had always remained far from your reach, slipping through your fingers like wispy mist. And that was just the way it was; the way it had always been.

The way it would likely remain.

“Hey.”

The two of you turn to see Clint resting in the doorway.

  “Whatcha talking about?” he grins.

You and the redhead share a look before simultaneously replying:

“College.”

“Relationships.”

Your eyes seek out Natasha’s but she merely winks at you before returning her attention to the archer.

“Right…” he drawls, itching the back of his head for a moment before he continues, ”Stark says he can’t get through to Cho’s lab. He’s trying to get someone on Hill’s team to go look into it, but…” he ends with a vague shrug.

Feeling the pull of the previous conversation fall to the wayside, you blink, “She was working with regenerative tissues, right? Oh, that is so obvious I want to smack myself!”

“Okay?” Clint calls as you breeze past him into the central room of the library.

Steve stands from the lounge as soon as you walk in, moving to stand alongside Banner as you peer over his shoulder at the chalkboard.

“If I was looking to evolve, as an artificial intelligence, why would I need living tissue?”

Bruce nods, juggling the chalk between his hands, “Exactly what I was thinking. Vibranium is more than enough.”

“So, why would you want a humanesque body if you believe you are the superior life form?”

The others circle into the room as the two of you begin to brainstorm.

“Uhm… relatability? You know, a friendly face to the humans you’re trying to protect?”

You shake your head, “No, he’s artificial he can’t care about that. I’d say maybe he’s trying to circumvent the Laws of Robotics in some way, but that seems like a far fetch.”

Steve stands beside Bruce, tilting his head to look down at the current list of theories the doctor had written out.

“Would he be able to convert vibranium to be like a form of skin?” he wonders aloud.

You both let the idea simmer for a moment before reaching the same conclusion.

“Anything’s possible, I suppose,” Bruce admits, looking to you for a differing opinion.

With a nod, you add, “And if anyone could accomplish that, it would be Helen. Her work in the field is above anything else to date.”

“Bet she wouldn’t be doing it willingly,” Natasha points out as she browses through your literary collection.

The supersoldier lets out a breath, realization dawning, “That’s why he needed the scepter.”

“And a million distractions,” Clint huffs.

As the idea rests upon your consciousness, Tony finally makes an appearance. Surveying the gloomy atmosphere, he whistles.

“Wow, brainstorming without me. So… got in touch with my contacts at Nexus. Looks like we were right, someone’s been scrambling the launch codes. Faster than Ultron can figure them out, I might add.”

Natasha perks up, “We have an ally?”

You offer her a look, “Ultron has an enemy. We can’t assume that’s the same thing as an ally. All things considered.”

Your eyes land on Steve and he seems to give a small nod, agreeing with your sentiment.

“So,” Tony begins. “I think I want to head to Oslo, see what’s what.”

Steve crosses his arms, “And Dr. Cho?”

“I think we can safely assume we dropped the ball there as well,” the billionaire gestures a small explosion with his hands.

The supersoldier’s eyes harden.

“We’re not abandoning her.”

“Is that what I said?” Tony clips, squinting at Steve as he moves to cross the room.

Natasha knocks her head back against the bookshelves, “What happened to not splitting up?”

Tony turns to look at her, “What are we? The Mystery Gang? Zoinks, Scoob, let’s go fetch the metal man.”

“Hey, look,” Clint moves to stand between the two men. “No offense, but as someone who’s been on the other side of that damn scepter, I wish I had someone running to come undo it.”

Beside you, Bruce tugs off his glasses and gives a slight sigh.

Observing the room, watching the team begin to tear themselves apart once again in the span of a single evening, you finally step forward.

“If you - ” you address Tony, “ - head to Oslo and track down this entity or person or whatever, the rest of us can go to Helen and figure out what exactly Ultron might have needed from her.”

“Or, we can trust that Hill and her agents have it in hand and we figure out where the bastard is hiding out,” Tony suggests with a knowing smile.

Before you can even ask why he would consider that option, your landline begins ringing its shrill bell tone. You stare at the billionaire for a moment more before you push your way out of the room to answer the call.

“Hello?” you ask into the receiver.

“It’s Hill,” comes the instant reply. “Stark was right. I’ve got people at the labs right now and she’s still coming out of it. It sounds like Ultron made out with something of hers - hell if I know what, right now. Give me some time and we’ll get an answer out of her. She’s… pretty shaken.”

“But unharmed?” you question, glancing back as you notice someone coming down the hall.

“Luckily, yes.”

There’s a beat of silent static, but you sense there is something more she wants to say.

“What is it?”

“We… uhm, we intercepted an image before it was broadcast to every major news network.”

Tony’s, surprisingly, the one standing beside you. His eyes are wide and imploring, but you merely wave your hand at him.

“What was the picture?”

“Strucker. Dead.”

“His usefulness ran out,” you surmise.

“Pretty graphic stuff, honestly. But we’re keeping it from the airways for now, so.”

It made sense, of course. For the perfect peacekeeper to remove a threat once it was no longer helpful to him.

“Any idea on the location?”

“Funny you should ask,” she says. “It was taken in the mutants’ cells, back at his hideout.”

Now that, was interesting.

“Okay,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead as you glance back over at the billionaire. “Well, I’m going to hand you back to Tony before he forcefully rips this out of my hand.”

Before you can even hear her reply, Tony does in fact take the receiver out of your hand.

“Talk to me,” he says, offering you a wink as you shake your head before he dips into the living room to continue the call.

When you walk back to the library where the others are still conversing, Steve looks toward you with a questioning look.

“Well, I hate to say it,” you huff. “But Stark was right. She’s in good hands right now and yes, she’ll be fine. We might have a location though, for Ultron.”

Bruce’s eyes brighten as he looks over at you, “Where?”

You offer them all a tight smile.

“Sokovia.”

The house is bathed in the hushed tones of evening. The halls are painted with the cool hues of starlight and the feint ambiance of a lone lamp in the library. 

After Maria’s revelation, the team had a quick conversation before it was admitted that they would need at least a few hours of sleep before anyone was in any condition to go anywhere near a robot hell-bent on your collective destruction. So, you bid goodnight to Clint and Natasha - now understanding why the two were sharing a room. As well as Bruce, who was guided up to a room on the third floor.

Tony was determined to head to Oslo as soon as humanly possible. He had taken his suit and decided to fly to the internet hub after his last call with Hill.

That only left…

“Are you just incapable of sleeping?” you ponder as you lean against the wooden archway of the library’s main entrance.

Steve blinks up at you before offering a tired smile, “To be fair, I’m not sure if I could sleep even if I wanted to right now.”

He’s sitting on the blue lounge with a book in his lap. A black-bound story with lettering so faded on the cover you’re not immediately sure which book it is. You take a few steps into the room before you drop down beside him on the chaise.

“From fear of our possible demise or… from that vision?” you ask, tone soft as you begin to tread difficult waters.

The supersoldier’s mouth gapes before he snaps the book closed.

Ah, Treasure Island.

“Little of both?” he answers honestly.

You give him a nod before taking a breath for yourself.

“Do you, uhm, want to talk… about it?”

He looks at you before he drops his gaze to his hands. His silence makes you think you’ve waded out too far into the unknown, but after another stretch of quiet, he says:

“I saw my Ma, actually.”

“Really?”

With a nod, he places the book on the end table beside the lounge. Leaning against the back of the chaise, he entwines his hands into a fist in between his legs. His eyes are locked on the ceiling.

“Everything before that was… hell,” at that, he glances over at you, before almost immediately pulling his gaze away. “And then… I saw her. She looked just like she did before…” he gives a sigh.

“It didn’t feel like the beginning of the vision. That felt like I was completely at the mercy of the nightmare. This part, with her, it was… I don’t know, different.”

Your hand finds purchase on his right forearm, silently imploring him to continue.

“She verbally snapped me out of it, I guess you could say.”

“Must be one powerful woman,” you comment with a small smile.

Steve’s left hand rests comfortably over your own, his thumb rubs at the area just above your wrist. You find yourself leaning into his side, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“She was.”

And then, he gives a warm chuckle.

“She, uh, actually used to read me this,” his hand lifts from yours to gently pat the book on the table beside him.

“Oh, such a classic,” you smile.

You can feel him nod, “Honestly got me thinking I was going to grow up to be a pirate one day.”

Pulling back, you fix him with an incredulous expression, “You? Seriously?”

He grins, “What, can’t see it?”

“The rule-breaking and lawlessness? Oh, absolutely. Pillaging and treasure-taking, not so much. You don’t seem the type.”

Steve gives a low-belly laugh.

“I’ll concede to that.”

“Though, now that I think about it,” you pull away just to appraise him. “Captain Rogers does have a certain ring to it if we’re dealing in the realm of piracy.”

He shakes his head, looking down at the book for a long, quiet moment.

“God,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve read this since I was a kid, actually.”

“You want it?”

His head whips back to look at you, an immediate shake of dismissal, “Nah. No, Athena, it’s yours. And it looks, truth be told, older than even me.”

“Well, that’s not much, considering,” you schmooze.

Pushing up from the chaise lounge, you swipe up the book for yourself. The raised leather feels familiar in your hand as you trace your index finger over the embossed green letters.

“It’s a signed copy, you know.”

You flip open the front cover to reveal the signature.

He blinks.

“You’re shitting me.”

“No,” you laugh, collapsing back on the lounge next to him with your legs tucked in under you. Shoving the book in his direction, you point to the dedication.

To Minnie, Wishing you a wonderful adventure. - Robert Louis Stevenson

“I was his nurse for about three months in 1884. Real sweet guy once you got him relaxed and comfortable. I think I have his copy of Jekyll and Hyde around here somewhere…”

Steve’s still staring at the words written in ink, so you carefully deposit the book into his lap. You lean back onto the opposite end of the lounge, waiting for him to say something.

“Minnie?” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, however.

“Oh, yeah. That.” Rubbing at your arm, you look toward the shelf of books across from you. “Athena’s not too common of a name for most of history. I ended up going by the name the Romans gave me: Minerva. Minerva Polias; Minnie, for short.”

He nods, still a little transfixed.

“Do you still go by that, or…?”

You drop a hand on his arm and he immediately turns his attention toward you with wide blue eyes.

“Steve. Please. Never call me Minnie. I gave you my real name three years ago with the intention that you would use it. There’s no need for aliases between friends.”

He lets out a small breath as a sweet smile comes to his lips.

“Good,” he settles on. “Almost had me worried for a minute there.”

“Hey,” you bump his shoulder with your own. “Can I convince you to try and get some sleep? It’s almost two in the morning and I’d like you to be in top condition if you’re throwing that shield around tomorrow. Don’t need to have you taking off Clint’s head.”

“I wouldn’t - ” he starts to say, but the look on your face settles him. “Okay, fine. You too though.”

“Me too what?” you question with a tilt of your head.

“Sleep. You have to sleep sometime, I’m sure of it.”

With a shrug, you stand from the couch and offer him your hands, “If it’ll get you to try, I’ll do it.”

Steve chuckles, setting the book back down on the table before he pulls the drawstring on the lamp, pulling you both down into the heavy darkness of night.

“Guess it’ll have to,” he says, voice low as the embers of light fade away.

His hands slip into yours and you don’t really have to pull him up, but he allows your fingers to stay entwined all the same. Up the stairs you go, walking slowly to avoid the creaking steps, a hand still held in his.

On the third floor, you can hear the very gentle breaths of Bruce’s snoring from down the hallway. In the sliver of moonlight drifting through the stairwell’s window, you can make out Steve’s features. They’re chiseled like Grecian marble, his eyes are ablaze with the lonely dots of shimmering starlight.

You stop outside of his room, your hand slipping free from his hold.

“It’s a deal then?” you ask in a hushed tone. “You’ll try and sleep if I do the same?”

He nods as he looks down at you. His hands are shoved into his jean pockets.

“Can’t make any promises,” he admits with something somber in his words.

Unable to help yourself, you reach out your hand to cup his cheek. His skin is warm under your touch and you can feel him dip his head down into your palm. Dark eyelashes flutter closed.

You offer the supersoldier a sad smile.

With everything that had happened today and everything that was still to come, it would surprise you if Steve was able to even drift into a light sleep, let alone keep his thoughts at bay long enough to fall asleep.

You’re a little surprised when the man in front of you turns his head ever so slightly. His lips gently press against your open palm before his eyes blink open to look down at your surprised face.

“Get some sleep, Rogers,” you murmur, letting your hand drift back to your side, feeling a ball of tension building in your stomach. “I’m just across the hall.”

His eyes lift from your face to peer at the door directly behind you. A small smile appears on his lips.

Without another word, but several long looks, Steve goes into his guest room and you move across the hall to the room you had long ago claimed as yours. Your door clicks closed first, followed a moment later by the sound of his.

You do not sleep that night.

Your mind is a labyrinth of thoughts, and plans, and ideas that may or may not come to pass. Working through imaginary strategies well into the morning light. You do not feel the draw of exhaustion that you imagine your mortal friends do.

So, as the glimmer of orange and magenta light drifts over the horizon, you take hold of your pendant - still resting comfortably, if not heavily, against your bosom. You offer a silent prayer to whoever wishes to listen before you begin gathering your things.

Coffee is running in the pot for the others, though you have no real food to offer them. You knew Clint and Steve kept a well-stocked snack pouch in their go-bags; mostly granola bars and the like. But it would have to be enough for today.

The others emerge at their own pace, starting with Bruce and then Natasha. Followed by Clint and eventually Steve. The plan had been made the night before, when all six of you were still present, that no matter what, the five of you would leave on the quinjet this morning - regardless if Tony got into contact or not.

Which, he did, sometime just around 6:30.

“I found our ally. Had to pick up the pieces and reassemble him back together.”

“JARVIS?” someone had asked.

“He didn’t even know he was in there, that he was fighting back Ultron. He was still following protocols from within.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Still working on that,” he had said.

After placing the last coffee mug onto the drying rack, you take one final look around the house. It would be some time until you returned, you were sure of it.

Pallas is perched on the porch rails when you finally close the front door.

“Hey,” you coo with a soft sigh. “It’s gonna be a while till we see each other. I want you to head back home and stay there. Where we’re going is going be no place for you, bud.”

He bites your finger for good measure before he ruffles out his feathers and soars up into the early morning sky. Celestial blue starlight drifts behind him like a fluttering veil before he pops out of existence.

Steve’s waiting for you at the ramp, already dressed in his uniform - free of his helmet and shield for the time being.

“Once we’re twenty miles clear, we’ll open up the channels again,” Clint says, already behind the controls.

Tony had said there was a bag full of intel that Hill was waiting to tell you all. Settling into the seats behind Clint, you watch as the house grows smaller and smaller, and eventually, gives way to a projection of a forest canopy. And then you’re zipping across the landscape, ascending into the cloud coverage.

Only ten minutes out and they get their call from Hill. Steve watches as you begin to pace the length of the jet.

Right now, you were still down two players. Tony was wrapping things up in Oslo and Thor was still… nowhere to be found.

The public’s understanding of the entire situation was about as bad as it could be. Marking the team as the true villains of the day with endless coverage looping clips of the Hulk destroying Johannesburg and the two Gods going blow to blow in a debris-ridden New York street.

There were countless interviews with eyewitnesses and civilians who had been in the crossfire who praised the help they received from the Ultron bots. There was no mention of you or Sam in London, or Tony’s efforts to aid the people in South Africa.

For all the world knew right now, Ultron was their promised savior.

“What else?” you had asked, voice clipped as your head lay heavy in your palm.

Hill reported CCTV footage of the mutants in multiple locations across Sokovia’s capital city - seemingly hiding in alleyways and shadowy areas. As if trying to avoid detection.

“They flip sides?” Clint had questioned with a note of hope in his voice.

“Unknown,” was all Maria could offer you.

At least they had an answer for what Ultron had been seeking from Dr. Cho. For better or worse.

“A living body?”

“Well, that’s fucking terrifying.”

While they had been split across two continents, fighting mindless battles, Ultron had entered South Korea, otherwise undetected. He had used the scepter on not only Helen Cho but her entire team. Her precious cradle had been corrupted for his nefarious means.

She reported that the mutants, Pietro and Wanda she recalled, had left quite suddenly. And that it had been the girl who released Helen from her forced state. Ultron had escaped with the cradle right after. Helen and her team had been left completely unharmed.

As they crossed the Atlantic, only more questions lay heavy in the air. Multiple unknowns for what they might be walking into. While everyone appeared for all the world to be ready to face whatever lay ahead, Steve knew that appearances could be deceiving.

Just getting the wings fixed, Sam had texted him. Give me some coordinates and I’ll be there.

Steve had shown you the message, noticing a look of relief drifting across your features. He had almost forgotten how close of a call it had been at the Tower, thanks to everything else going on at the time. Between his own nightmarish memories and his need to get you and the God of Thunder away from each other before the city was destroyed any further.

“Only the Abomination could destroy something made out of Adamantine,” you had said with a slight shake of your head.

But as they draw closer to the country, Steve can feel the physical tension hanging in the air. So, when Clint calls out an ETA, the supersoldier stands up to address the team. If not to quell the anxiety in them, then perhaps to help with his own.

“Ultron likely knows we’re coming,” he starts, letting his hand fall onto the back of your chair. “Odds are we’ll be riding into heavy fire. And that’s what we signed up for. But the people of Sokovia, they didn’t. So, our priority is getting them out. We find the cradle and we clear the field. Keep the fight between us.”

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

“Ultron… he thinks we’re monsters. That we’re what’s wrong with the world. It’s not just about beating him. It’s about whether he’s right.”

His eyes drift over to your face.

They all had been rattled by Bruce’s confession last night. And that, perhaps, was the most terrifying part of it all. He completely understood where the doctor was coming from. They were a rag-tail group of people from supremely different backgrounds who were supposed to be the elite protective force for the entire Earth.

And yet, there they were arguing over dinner, in a helicarrier with a scepter three feet away, in the middle of Manhattan.

Steve wouldn’t deny the fact that the team wasn’t perfect.

But the fact that Ultron propped himself up as the better option. An inhuman supercomputer who could decide the fate of everyone on the planet. No, even with all their imperfections, the Avengers Initiative was the best - the only - true option out there.

You nod, darkened eyes meeting Steve’s. And then a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I’m still not ghostwriting your speeches,” you mouth.

Steve looks down with a chuckle before he grips your shoulder. Staring out the window, he watches as the distant stretch of land peeks past the waves of rolling blue ocean.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[mixtapedoh]

Hi olive! For your writing event, what about felix and waiting for us?

thank you all so much for reminding me how much of a sucker i am for skz ballads; idk what they lace their lyrics with to make me feel!!!!!! so very many!!!!!!! things!!!!!! but it's very appreciated

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇᴛᴀʟꜱ ꜰᴀʟʟ

☄. *. ⋆

pairing: lee felix x reader genre: fluff, long distance relationship word count: 1.1k warnings: emotional at the beginning for no other reason than me liking a little bit of yearning. a hint of want.

olive's notes: yongbokkie???? in this economy????? i hope i can do him justice. on the fence with this title, i could decide if i wanted to do that line or "smile, facing each other." both felt appropriate, but the former feels more... evocative? idk. the vibes here are like if waiting for us by skz and why won't you love me by 5SOS met in a bar and kissed or something. idk.

consider my mini writing event ?

There was a lethargic shuffle to the coffee shop you habitually frequented. When you wanted to be productive in the work set out before you, or simply wanted to stave off the loneliness that would occasionally come biting — a feeling familiar to you but not quite tamed — you would always meander your way here. The permanent, sleepy fluorescent lights casting a dull orange glow no matter the hour outside it’s hypnotic four walls, the same soft-spoken, slow-drawled baristas who were just well-mannered enough to exchange pleasantries before easing back to their college textbooks, the subdued, almost-dough like quality of the lo-fi hip hop playlist that looped ad-naseum, gentle beats and occasional lazy vocalization lulling you into a doze: there was something languid, in this place where you nursed your caffeine fix. Tired, but not unplesantly so. Worn, but not so thin. 

It was that mutability, perhaps, that often slipped your mind to that velvet lined feeling of nostalgia.

“We’ll always find each other again…”

You took a long drink from the insulated cup in front of you, your eyes pulling away from the book you’d placed in front of you, a borrowed, dog-earred thing that had sprawling writing in the margins, almost illegible, but felt more than they were consciously understood. You’d swapped it months ago, now. At the time, he’d joked that you both read so slow, you’d probably reunite long before either of you would finish. But the day had come when you turned the last page. And here you were, again, a second read, near mid-way through.

The baristas were absorbed in texts of their own; couples sat at the high tables along the widows, murmuring warmly in tones too low to hear. There was an old woman, and she had all the supplies to crochet.

The taste of your drink lingered on your tongue, and the flavor gave way to hazy memories you were slow to blink away.

You popped in an earbud. The tone sounded brightly, bluetooth alerting you to its connection, and you dialed a familiar number.

“Beep… beep… beep…”

You slumped down in your seat — not entirely sure why you were doing so, but searching for the comfort of oblivion all the same.

"You have no new voice messages, and one saved voice message. To play saved voice messages, press pound.

"You have one saved voice message. Saved voice messages:

“(Y/n); hi… um… I know it’s late, so I wasn’t expecting you to pick up, but umm… I was missing you, and I wanted to hear your voice, and I guess I thought calling would work? I only remembered the time difference after it was too late, so yeah… I miss you… I’m thinking of you. You know, it’s funny, uh, Seungmin was talking, yesterday, and he said I talk about you so much it’s like I’m trying to make the rest of them feel lonely… it was right after I sent you that picture of the birds sitting on the um… wire, together. I guess I talk about you too much. So if you see him tomorrow and he pretends to be annoyed with you… yeah. Well, now you know why. Umm… that’s all I had to say; I’ve gotta go now… I love you.”

There was the faintest sound of air crackling on the other end. Like fabric of an oversized sweatshirt enveloping the microphone on the other end, a hug of sound. You heard him breathe. Then it was over.

“End of saved voice messages.

“Goodbye, now.”

Better to be free of this coffee shop - your flight was in a few hours, and you ought to gather the rest of your things - be prepared for when you get there. It was going to be a long flight.

You’d need something to pass the time. Your hands ghosted over the book before you; half read for a second time, a sweet ending that drifted into the ellipses of a happily ever after. Uncertain, happy, vague.

Maybe you’d buy an overpriced paperback at the airport.

Time ebbed and flowed, and you left the coffee shop, vacated your old apartment with the rest of your luggage in tow, said farewell to the streets you’d grown accustomed to, but never quite attached. You listened to the voicemail again at the airport, texted someone who could not reply, and then settled in for the strange sort of dissonance a plane ride can offer. Crossing a distance but stuck in the same headspace.

“I’m waiting, you know? I’m holding on, and when I see you next, I’m never letting go.”

The plane touched down with a sigh, and everyone aboard let out one of their own. You’d finished half of the book you’d picked up for the trip, slow-reading still. But here, in the middle of the story, things were still new. Life had only started to begin, and rather than a hazy, fading ellipses, there was still ground to tread. Paragraphs that led like arrows to a story only now dawning and with the sun, unfold.

The airport was hectic, as always. A far cry from the inertia of the coffee shop from earlier, a wave of movement, a cacophony of motion and sound. You picked your way through the crowd and in the rush of action, missed the phone call you were so hoping to catch. Your phone was still on vibrate, and the feeling of the person you were longing for the most reaching out to you through the divide, trying to grab hold of you before you were to disappear once again, was muffled by the giddy nervousness coursing through your body.

When you finally checked your phone and saw the call log, you swore.

“Beep… beep… beep…”

It was harder to hear, in the airport, with families milling about, people reuniting with happy shrieks, and everyone calling out names, grinning impossibly wide, catching their loved ones and pulling them close. If Felix were here… if you were to catch sight of his smiling face…

“You have one new voice message, and one saved voice message. New voice messages:”

“(Y/n).”

You pushed the phone closer to your ear, fumbling with the volume buttons. Why was it that voicemail still had such terrible sound quality?

“I’m waiting for you by the, um—”

Someone grabbed your shoulder and you spun.

“Felix!”

And your lips crashed onto his, your arms wrapping around him in a hug like a vice. He returned your joy with equal force, and when you pulled away from him he peppered you with kisses to your cheeks and forehead and the bridge of your nose. 

“You’re here,” and the words slipped through you warm: incandescent, the sun. Eventually, he’d given you the space to breathe, and, having taken your bags from you, the two of you walked side by side, Felix giving you his hand when yours itched for something to hold.

“Always.” And he kissed your forehead again.

☄. *. ⋆

blog home

[xelmokidx]

Nicknames

Mid90’s x gn or fem!reader / slight Fuckshit x gn!reader

Reader wanted a nickname, so the boys tried to come up with one. It sucked + readers' first time meeting the boys. 

Warnings!!: two mentions of fem pronouns sorta. Just fluff:D

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Spike Psyche. That's my nickname. Out of all the things my friends could have nick-named me. Spike Psyche. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say, appalled. Fuckshit nods, swigging back his Coke. 

“Yup.” he replies as Sunburn (aka stevie) giggles at the name.“Why?” I exclaim in disbelief. 

Ray chuckles at the nickname before muttering

 “Thats fucked up” Fuckshit opens his stupid mouth again. “Because all you talk about Is chopping off our heads and putting them on spikes, and how you want to kill yourself after every minor inconvenience.” I gasp, putting my hand over my chest dramatically. “I do not!”

Ruben shakes his head. “Yes, you do.”

FourthGrade chuckles behind his camera and I glare at him. He sinks down into the couch. “I do not talk about killing myself that much guys, if anything Ruben does more than me!” Ruben whips his head around to look at me. “Man, fuck you” He starts “I do not talk about that depressed shit.” I shake my head. “Y’all are trippin’” I look around the shop and see some customers listening in on our conversation. “I will not let yall call me that dumbass name, I like Y/N so much better”

Fourth grade finally chimes in. “But last week you said you hated your basic name and you wanted a nickname.” Bless his innocent soul. “Well I take it back, i am not answering to ‘Spike Psyche’” I sink into the couch with a pout. “Well fine ma, we’ll find you a “good nickname” Fuckshit reasons. I nod. We sit in silence as Ray gets up to help the customer. I look around the shop. 

New posters of artists I like are on the walls. Fuckshit insisted on making the space mine as well as theirs. All I heard was ‘we need new decorations and you have good taste in music’ I didn't really mind though. I've always wanted to add my own little spice into the skate shop ever since I first stepped foot in it. I think back a couple years. 

I was 13. I wanted a new board for my birthday. So, my dad took me to the nearest shop. Four boys sat on a couch near a wall, watching MTV on their small TV. The tall one noticed us first. He nudged the golden haired boy to his left, who then looked up at me. “Oh shit” he muttered under his breath. My dad frowned. I guess he caught that. “Hey, welcome to Motorz, how can I help y'all today?” he asked, clearly trying to impress my dad (on account of my dads business attire). 

My dad spoke for me while I hid behind him in fear. I was never good with new people. Especially ones I found cool. 

As my dad pressed questions like ‘How old even are you?’ and ‘fuckshits your name?’ I only found the kid cooler. How did you even wind up with a name like Fuckshit? 

Soon enough, my own personal skateboard was in my hands, and my dad was dragging me out of the shop despite my wanting to stay. As I looked behind me to the boys, and the supposed fuckshit was waving to me out the door. With my other free hand I waved back. He smiled a soft smile, and then walked back into the shop yelling “that chick was hot!” I smiled to myself the whole way home. I went back to the shop after school one day to see fuckshit again, and just stayed there for three years. My dad warmed up to fuckshit eventually, but still has some grudges against him. 

And I'm still in love with the stupid kid, even though he gets on my nerves almost every day.

 I look at fuckshit now. His hair is longer, yet less taken care of and frizzy. He has more scars from skateboarding. And his eyes look even more green against his tan olive skin. Suddenly, he speaks. “I got it!” I roll my eyes and mutter “what is it?” He smirks and walks over to me slightly slotting his legs between mine. “Your new nickname is Stalker, because you're always staring at me” The boys erupt in laughter. I gasp “fuck you” 

“You wish ma,” 

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

Trust Him Like a Brother AO3

Ginny was excited that her mum met someone new after her dad died, but she did not realize that meant she would have to deal with Harry Potter being her new soon-to-be step-brother.

Written for Reputation Era of SeveralSunlitDaylights and for @takearisk-ao3 who supported me writing this shamelessly

if it makes you feel better, Harry and Ginny aren't step-siblings yet

July was unbearably hot. Unusually hot. And if Ginny were at the Burrow, she would go down to the pond, dip her toes into the water, and even, after assuring that no one was near her, strip off her clothes and take a dip.

But Ginny was not at the Burrow. Instead she was holed up in her brand new bedroom at her mum’s new fiance’s manor. 

The whole thing was ridiculous. 

Arthur Weasley died in an unfortunate accident that Ginny did not want to talk about when she was 11 years old. Molly Weasley had grieved for years, until she joined a widow support group where she happened to meet her brand new fiance.

Lily Potter.

Ginny hardly knew her because she was off at Hogwarts while her mum was going on dates with the tall, green-eyed, red-haired witch. And before she knew it, she received an owl from her mum that she was engaged, and they would move into the old Potter Manor instead of the Burrow during the summer. 

Don’t get it wrong, Ginny liked Lily. A lot really. She liked how she joked that this old Pureblood Manor was now owned by a bisexual, muggleborn witch. She liked how she worked so many puns into her conversations. She especially liked how Lily would make her mum smile.

What she didn’t love about Lily Potter was her barely of age son who lived in the bedroom next to hers. Who shared a bathroom with her. 

Harry. James. Potter.

Ugh. Ginny rolled her eyes at the thought of his name. 

Everything about him annoyed her. The way he insisted on racing her on his brand new Firebolt whenever she was taking a leisurely flight. They way he ruined her favorite Weird Sisters songs by belting them poorly in the shower. The way he stole her olives off her plate at dinner, even if she was not going to eat them in the first place. The way his bright, green eyes caught hers whenever his mum said something cheesy, yet hilarious. And the way his jaw line-

She was getting carried away, but he was infuriating.

Just to drive the point home how infuriating he is, Harry was currently ruining the Weird Sisters’ newesting single, Graveyard Shift, during his way too long of a shower. 

“Will you shut up?” Ginny yelled at the wall, banging on it to emphasize her point.

Harry’s voice only got louder. “I’m haunted by the way we kissed, stuck working the Graveyard Shift.”

“Fucking hell,” Ginny muttered under her breath. She probably would not have enough time to shower before they were supposed to meet her classmates at the Leaky Cauldron, so she cast a quick Scourgify on herself. 

“Do you not like my voice?” Someone asked. Harry leaned against her bathroom door frame, towel wrapped casually around his waist, his jet-black hair dripping beads of water down his face. 

Ginny cleared her throat, “I’m surprised the boys at Ilvermorny did not cast a permanent silencing charm on you to get you to shut up.”

“The boys at Ilvermorny didn’t have as big of a reaction to me as you do,” Harry said, smirking at her. “And I like getting a reaction out of you.” Harry shook his head, cascading water droplets all over her to emphasize his point.

“Stop-”

Her bedroom door sprung open with a thud. 

“Hey Ginny! Do you happen to have any spare perfume? I forgot to spray myself before leaving home and Ron said you might have some. Oh, hello!” Lavender Brown said all in one breath. Her eyes darted between Ginny and Harry who at least had the audacity to look somewhat embarrassed meeting someone in just a towel.

Ginny went over to her nightstand and directly handed Lavender her floral perfume, not trusting her to catch anything if she threw it at her.

“Thanks, Ginny!” Lavender said, spraying an obscene amount of perfume on herself. “Sorry for interrupting,” she said with a wink before closing the door behind her.

Ginny took a moment to stare up at the ceiling before braving to turn back to the half naked man standing in her bedroom. “Sorry about her.”

“Ron’s girlfriend, I assume?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Ginny replied. “She is not too bad if you get to know her. She has calmed down a lot since when they first started dating. Mainly because she finally realized that Ron’s best friend, Hermione, was not actually trying to sleep with her man.”

Harry carted his fingers through his wet hair, “Actually, that is why I am in here. I was hoping you could help introduce me to everyone tonight. I really only know Ron, because of the whole soon-to-be-step-brother thing, and just a few of the other guys who are in the Auror training program with us.” 

“So you want me to babysit you all night long?” Ginny asked.

Harry let out a small laugh, “I’m older than you, shouldn’t I be the one babysitting you?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Go get dressed, Potter. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

In the kitchen, her mum and Lily were standing at the stove together, swaying to an old Celestina Warbeck song. The sweet sight was ruined by Ron and Lavender snogging around the corner. Ginny grabbed a dishrag off of the counter and threw it at Ron, hitting him square in the back of the head. 

“Do you two ever not do that?” Ginny asked. 

Ron ignored her, giving her the middle finger as he continued to suck on his girlfriend’s face. 

Harry bounded down the steps a few seconds later, “Ron, mate, you got to let the girl breathe.”

Ron detached himself from Lavender’s face with a gross squelch sound, “Fuck, man, not you too.”

“What can I say, Ginny is a bad influence,” Harry smiled over at her. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Let’s go. We are already late.” 

“Have fun tonight, everyone!” Lily Potter’s voice called from the kitchen. 

“And please send us a patronus if you need any help. I don’t want to have to pick anyone up from the Auror holding cell tonight,” Mum added. 

“But if you do, make sure it was because you did something funny!” Lily called back. Molly let out a shock gasp before breaking into a fit of giggles at her fiance’s joke.

Harry caught her eye and grinned. 

“Ew.” Ron said, “Let’s go before they flirt even more.”

The Leaky Cauldron was packed by the time they all arrived. The majority of Ron’s class was here and a good chunk of her class was present as well. 

“Hermione says she has a table in the back!” Lavender shouted over the music, grabbing Ron’s hand and dragging him behind her. Ginny followed closely behind, Harry kept a hand pressed into her back to not get washed away with the crowd.  

Ginny saw Luna first, although she was hard to miss, standing on top of a stool waving both hands at the four of them pushing their way through the crowd. Hermione sat next to her, hands gripping onto Luna’s legs preventing her from toppling over.

“Luna, please be careful,” Hermione begged, pulling her girlfriend carefully down. 

Luna ran around the table and crashed into Ginny, giving her a bone crushing hug. “So good to see you!” Luna shouted. She turned and immediately crushed Harry in a hug. 

“Oh, erm, Hi.” Harry stuttered.

Ginny laughed at Harry’s obvious discomfort. “This is Luna. My best friend, and Hermione’s girlfriend.”

Luna let go of Harry, she gave him a curious look before announcing, “Your head is full of nargles.” Luna turned to give Lavender and Ron their hugs.

Harry turned to Ginny, facing away from the strange blonde, “What’s a nargle?”

“Don’t ask,” Ginny replied, shaking her head at her friend’s creatures.

Hermione reached across the table to shake Harry’s hand, “I’m Hermione. Ron and Ginny have told me so much about you.”

Harry wrapped an arm around Ginny’s shoulder, pulling her flush against his body. “All nice things from Ginny, I’m sure.” 

Ginny elbowed Harry, pulling away from his warmth and ignoring the swoop in her gut. “I don’t know what she is talking about, I do not talk about you.”

“Whatever you say,” Harry teased, rubbing the spot that Ginny’s elbow hit. 

Hermione ignored both of them and continued on, “I heard you went to Ilvermorny, tell me all about it!”

The six of them discussed their life at school, and the differences between Hogwarts and the American school. Begrudgingly, Ginny admitted to herself how well Harry fit into the group.

“Quidditch at Ilvermorny is obviously more intense because we don’t just compete against the house teams, we also compete against the other American schools in the National Championship,” Harry stated smugly, taking a long drink of his butterbeer. 

“That is not true!” Ginny cried, smacking her hand on the table, sloshing her own drink in the process. “Ilvermorny Central only has two house teams that compete against each other so automatically you have a 50% chance of making the championship! Hogwarts you at least compete against three teams. And it doesn’t matter if you win or lose, it matters how much you win or lose by to claim the Quidditch cup!”

Harry set his mug down, a grin dancing across his face, “So if the points are the only thing that matters, then the seeker must be the most important player on the pitch. Right?”

Ginny threw up her hands in frustration, “We are not having this argument again. I, alone, have scored more than 150 points in a game.”

Ron downed his drink in a gulp, “Well, I am going to go to the bathroom.” He stood abruptly, shifting his pants. 

Ginny took a deep breath and counted down from ten in her brain. 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6

Harry’s knees nudged her under the table.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

“I need to go to the bathroom too!” Lavender announced to the table, scurrying off after her boyfriend.

“Subtle!” Hermione called after her.

“Nothing was subtle about that. Did you see all of the nargles swarming around both of their heads? They almost had as many nargles floating around their heads as Harry and Ginny do,” Luna said in a sing-song voice.

“Luna!” Hermione cried, “You can’t use your mythical creatures to call out people like that!”

Luna swirled her Gillywater in her glass, “I am not calling anything out. I am just making careful observations that most witches and wizards would rather ignore,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Do they always fight like this?” Harry asked, lips inches away from her ear. 

Ginny turned in her stool so her back was faced to Hermione and Luna, her knees pressed into Harry’s. She leaned forward so she was facing Harry head on. Nose inches from his nose. “This isn’t fighting for them. It’s foreplay,” Ginny said. 

They both turned back to the couple. One of Hermione’s hands was flying throughout the air as she was explaining the unlikely ability that Nargles existed in London during the summertime, while her other hand was creeping slowly up Luna’s thigh. Luna for her part just stared dreamingly at Hermione.

“I think we should continue this debate at home, Mione,” Luna said.

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink, “We probably should. See you two later. Say bye to Won-Won and Lav-Lav for us!” Hermione said, tugging Luna towards the door.

“Subtle!” Ginny called after them.

“Hey,” Harry said, knees pressed up against hers again, “Sorry for insinuating that I’m better at Quidditch than you.”

Ginny reached forward and grabbed Harry’s hand on the table, “Thank you,” she said dramatically, “because we both know I am better than you.”

She expected Harry to throw his head back and laugh at her, but he kept her gaze, eyes sparkling at her. His thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. Ginny felt cornish pixies flutter in her stomach.

“I need a drink,” She said, standing immediately, making her way to the bar.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Her brain chanted at her. He is going to be your step brother in a month! She scolded herself.

But you aren’t related. Another part of her brain said. And there are many purebloods out their who have performed worse acts of incest than crushing on a soon-to-be stepsibling. 

“You look thirsty. Can I buy you a drink?” A voice said, breaking her out of her internal battle. A man with sandy hair, brown eyes, not too much taller than her leaned ever so casually against the bar. 

Ginny smiled at the stranger, “Yes, please.” He was a distraction. A perfect distraction from jet black hair, green eyes, and a toned abdomen that looked so brilliant in just a towel. 

“I’m Jacob,” the man said, passing her a glass full of some smokey pink drink.

“Ginny.”

“Well, Ginny,” Jacob said, smiling at her, “Cheers!”

Ginny clinked her glass with Jacob’s and took a sip. Warmth of the drink flooded her senses. Her insides ignited, and when she looked back up at Jacob he was haloed in a warm glow. 

He was more than the perfect distraction. Jacob was perfect.

She slowly brought her glass to her lips again to take another sip, but it was knocked out of her hands before she got the chance.

Harry stood next to her, eyes murderous. He was not looking at her, but rather he was glaring at Jacob. 

“Hey what the fuck, man!” Jacob cried out. His voice sounded so regal. Ginny swooned at the sound. 

Harry turned back to her, “Did you drink what he gave you?” He asked, voiced terrified.

“Yes,” She said, pushing past Harry, stepping closer to Jacob and his warmth. “Jacob is so sweet, and bought me a drink. So I drank it! He is so perfect.”

Harry stepped between her and Jacob, his back pressed against her. He lowered his head to look Jacob directly in the eye, “You better fuck off right now, and if you ever touch her again, it will be the last thing you ever do,” Harry said in a low voice.

Jacob got the hint and scurried off. Ginny tried to follow after him, but Harry grabbed her arm, pulling her close to his chest, “You’re coming with me.”

Ginny pulled her arm free from Harry’s grasp, “But I don’t want to!”

In one fluid motion, Harry swooped Ginny up and over his shoulder and carried her out of the bar. Her face smacked directly into his arse. 

“You. Are. An. Arse!” Ginny shouted, emphasizing each word.

“An arse that just saved yours,” Harry grunted, shifting Ginny’s weight.

"I already have six older brothers to be overprotective, I don't need another one!” Ginny shouted, kicking her legs against Harry, trying to break free. 

"Good thing I don't want you to treat me like a brother,” Harry retorted.

Ginny’s legs stilled, “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Harry replied shortly.

Ginny lifted her head so she wasn’t staring at Harry’s backside. Diagon Alley was empty at this time of night, the only lights coming from the Leaky Cauldron and the dim street lamps of Knockturn Alley. The sound of Harry’s footsteps on the cobblestone echoed through the night.  

Harry stopped, shifting Ginny so he could pull his wand out of his pocket. He tapped his wand in a pattern on the brick, unlocking the door.

“Why the fuck are we here?” Ginny asked.

“Because,” Harry grunted, carrying her through the door to Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes, “That dickhead gave you a love potion that he likely got from your brothers. Which means, your brothers also likely have the antidote.”

Ginny wriggled, trying to break free from Harry’s grasp. “He did not give me a love potion! You’re just jealous because he has perfect sandy hair and warm brown eyes and all you have is night-black hair and stupidly, bright green eyes.” 

Suddenly, her world turned upside down as Harry threw her off his shoulder and onto the ground. 

“Stay.” 

Harry turned his back to her, heading over to the WonderWitch area of the store, searching for the love potion antidote that she did not need. Slowly, she got to her feet, planning to make a break for it back to Jacob. Her world came crashing back down as she landed face first on the filthy floor.

Her brothers really should mop.

Rope bound tightly around her ankles preventing her from running. She used her arms to pull herself up. Maybe she could hop to Jacob. Rope flew across the room, binding her hands together too. 

“Let me go!” Ginny shouted at Harry.

“Only after you drink this,” Harry replied, a tiny vial of liquid in his hands. Lover’s Antidote written in cursive font on the front. 

Ginny tightly closed her lips, shaking her head no. 

“Ginny, please,” Harry begged. 

She stuttered for a second, wanting to make Harry happy. Then she remembered that he wanted her to stop trying to go after Jacob and she did not like that. With her bound hands, she tried pushing herself up, but Harry was quicker than she was. He wrestled her down, straddled her hips, keeping her pressed to the ground.

“Open,” Harry said.

Ginny did, opening her mouth wide for him, tilting her chin and arching her back up. She didn’t understand why in this position, with Harry’s weight pressed into her, that she would listen to him. That she would forget about what's-his-name, and her only thoughts being Harry.

With shaking hands, Harry tipped the potion down her throat, and she swallowed. Slowly, her senses cooled, and her wit returned.

“That fucker love-potioned me.”

Harry choked out a sound, halfway between a sigh of relief and laughter. “Good to have you back, Gin,” Harry said, grinning down at her. 

Ginny smiled back up at him, shifting her hips underneath him, trying to find some relief under the weight of him. She stilled when she felt something very hard, that could not possibly be his wand, because that was secured firmly in his right hand. 

Harry’s eyes widened, but he did not move off of her.

Slowly, Ginny rocked her hips up to meet him, daring him to make the next move. Either off of her and pretend this never happened or to thrust back into her. He hesitated a moment, but then Harry placed his arms balanced on either side of her, and rocked back into Ginny.

A shaky breath escaped her lips at the friction. 

“So, do you tie up all of the girls you shag?” Ginny asked, big, brown eyes batting up at him. 

Harry’s hand moved to Ginny’s tied up hands, pinning them above her head. “Only the girls that misbehave.” Harry leaned forward, whispering in her ear. “Do you promise to behave, Gin?” Harry asked, thrusting into her again.

“Yes,” she breathed out.

“Good girl.” He twirled his wand, wordlessly untying the ropes from her wrists and ankles.

And then his lips crashed to hers. Hands exploring every inch of her body. His weight fully pressed on top of her now.

Her hands were shaking from holding back from him. She finally admitted to herself that she didn’t want him like a brother. She wanted him for so much more. And now she couldn’t hold back. Her hands were in his hair, and then under his shirt, and then undoing his belt. Needing every part of him.

Harry wasn’t careful with her. Leaving bruises along her jawline with his tongue. He found the hem of her shirt and yanked it off of her, uncaring if it ripped coming off. Hands immediately found the clasp of her bra, freeing her.

“Merlin, your tits are even better than I imagined,” Harry groaned, mouth licking down her sternum. 

Ginny arched herself into him as his tongue circled her nipple. “You dream about this often?” 

Harry came back up so his face was even with hers, “Every fucking day, Weasley.” 

His lips met hers once again. “I think about you when we fly together and the way your arse looks bent over the broom,” His hand grabbed her bum for emphasis.  “I think about you in the shower with me, your tits all sudsy with soap,” Harry said, kissing her breasts once again. “I think about you as I lie in my bed awake at night. Wondering how you taste,” he voiced, barely above a whisper. 

Excruciatingly slow, Harry pulled off her pants. He kissed the inside of her thigh, working his way back up before going over to the other thigh.

“Harry. Please,” Ginny moaned out.

“Anything for you,” Harry said, before diving in.

His tongue worked inside of her, hands tightly holding her hips in place. She felt warmth build as his tongue expertly worked on her clit. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” She chanted.

A long finger teased her entrance before plunging inside her. She needed him to finish her off, and she was so close to crossing that line. His fingers move quickly, pushing her closer to the edge, one she so desperately wants to be thrown over. He carried her up to the peak and pushed her over with one word.

“Come.” 

Suddenly, she was free-falling, tossed right over her edge into a blissful oblivion.

Harry worked his way back up to her, leaving a trail of kisses as he went. 

“Tasted better than I imagined,” he said into her lips.

Ginny pulled him into a crushing kiss. Heat pooling in her gut again. She pulled away, and stared into his green eyes, now dark with lust. 

“I need you.”

Harry stood to pull off his pants. Ginny crawled over to him, kneeling before his length. She kissed the inside of his thigh before licking the underside of his dick. She stood, meeting Harry in a fierce kiss. 

He picked her up in a fluid motion, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He set her down on the front counter. It was cold on her arse, but she could not care because Harry was teasing her entrance with his penis. Gradually, he entered her, inch by inch, filling her up. 

“Fuck,” Harry cried out. 

Ginny agreed with her entire being. With every thrust, Ginny saw stars. A galaxy of constellations blurred her vision as she felt herself being pulled closer and closer to the edge again. 

“Fuck, you fuck good,” Ginny moaned. Her heels pulled him impossibly deeper inside her. Her hands wrapped around his strong shoulders and her fingernails leaving scratches down his back. 

Harry let out a string of curses under his breath. His thrusts picked up speed, and Ginny knew that she would crash in any second. Harry’s fingers found her clit again, and with the increased pressure and deep thrust, she was gone. Exploding like a star, she came hard.

With a few more thrusts, Harry followed her cue. 

Ginny smiled up at him, “Come here,” she said, pulling Harry’s face to kiss her breathless. Harry’s lips eagerly met hers. With time, the kisses turned more lazy before they finally pulled away.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Harry said, breathless above her.

Ginny let out an uncharacteristic giggle, “You’re amazing.”

Harry let out a laugh that made Ginny’s entire insides curl with pleasure. “Here,” Harry said, offering her shirt back. 

“Just so you know,” Ginny said, pulling her shirt over her head, “I realized, I’ve been thinking about this almost every day too.”

Harry nearly tripped pulling his pants back on, “Really?”

“Really,” Ginny reassured, sliding off of the counter. 

“So what should I call you now? My fuck-buddy? My boyfriend? My brother?” Ginny teased. 

Harry cringed, “Maybe not that last one.” He spun her around so she was facing him again.

“Definitely, not the last one,” Ginny said before kissing him again.

[mistresskayla-blog1]

Heart-Scorched in the Desert

PART 2

Characters: Guy of Gisborne x OC Navaneeth

(Lyn's Writing Event May 2024)

PART 2

Guy of Gisborne was created by Dominic Minghella & Foz Allan and adapted for Television.

Warnings: smut, angst, grief, heartbreak, rescue, confusion, p in v, cunnilingus, accidental breeding,

Word count: 2.7k

Location: Holy Lands circa 1190s

Part 1 is HERE. *Part 1 has spoilers if you havent watched series 1*

--- part 2

Navaneeth tried to rest as well, the chores of the day would start sharply, and the Seljuk are unforgiving to her station. She was still thinking about the Englishman, the one with sharp features, and an even sharper heart. Could she change her own life and leave with him, could she soften that dark knight? She giggled as she thought of his smirking face. She had been around men who made advances on her, as a peasant it was allowed, and that always infuriated her. Maybe in his culture they had more protections. She did not know, but she was willing to find out. Navaneeth only had herself to look after, her parents were dead, and her brothers were fighting against the crusaders. There was nothing to do but chores for the Sultan and maybe sleep a whole night without the Mummy looming.

She may not know if she could soften Guy, but Allah, did she want to try to convince him to let her. She gathered a few of her things and rolled it up into another scarf. Then scurried across the courtyard to Guy’s hut.

---

Guy stirred hearing footsteps near his door. He rolled over and looked up. Navaneeth was at his doorway. Guy smiled warmly. Navaneeth had a parcel in her hands. She smiled, “I brought some things. And a little food, for, you” She offered him some bread. Guy stood up and sauntered over to her, “Thank you” he said, chewing and swallowing, “You came back,” he said. She did not respond, it just hung in the air like the heat.

“I did,” Navaneeth swallowed, gulping down courage, “I wanted to ask you something”. Guy stayed planted in front of her. “Mm hmm..” still eating the sweet dates from her palm.

“That is,” Guy looked at her, hopeful, but reserved.

“Could you take me with you? Back to your home?” Navaneeth asked him. Guys eyebrows furrowed as he chewed. He turned away from her and sighed.

“Honestly? I do not even know what I have to go home to,” he fiddled with his satchel, and sighed heavily again.

“Why do you want to leave?” he asked her curiously, turning back and leaning into the clay wall.  Navaneeth brushed the hair from her face, lowering her hood, “I want more control than I have here, I thought,”

Guy smirked, “You think women have it better where I come from? Because they can fight?”

Navaneeth shuddered in her robes, and looked at him, trying to stand tall, “I just want something different, can you take me, or no? that is what I came to ask you,”

It was then that Guy noticed the way she was clutching the bag in her hand. “You’re going away anyways, aren’t you?” he approached her, concern filling his face, “But where will you go, surely you will be killed for leaving?”

Navaneeth looked down at her hands and back up to his bursting blue eyes, “I care not, at least I can say that I died trying to escape, I don’t wish to be a slave for the Sultan anymore”, Navaneeth shuddered again, and rubbed at her neck. Guy could see a welt on it, as she moved her hand. Her hair, fell back to drape across it.

Guy got even closer to her, “Is that his handy work then?” his bare hand brushed her shoulder as he examined her. Guy shook his head, moving to touch her more softly, “It’s a shame that he would hurt someone as beautiful as you.”

Navaneeth blushed under his touch, her warm olive skin warmed pinkish. She felt exposed and somehow seen by him in that very moment. Guys eyes darted all over her, and she shivered again, “You are very kind. I know that my looks cause me harm here, perhaps they wont elsewhere.”

Guy chuckled softly under his breath, “I do not think you will find much solace in that back in my home. Beautiful women are always sought after. Why should you be any different?”

He walked past her, his demeanor shifting to ice, trying to steal himself from his feelings of desire. Marian had really messed him up. Turned his heart upside down and then spat it out. He spun on Navaneeth in great alarm, and grabbed her up in his arms, shaking her angrily.

“Why?! Do you think me worthy to help you? Do I have sucker written on my face? Is that it?” He yelled, then he dropped her, and went to the wall, pounding it with his fists. Navaneeth fell to her knees, a little frightened but also intrigued. She had seen him kill that woman the other day, in the courtyard, saw his pain as he did it. Saw her lover upset and cry over her body. She wondered what that all meant, was that woman playing both men? What had happened to this man, to make him so torn apart?

Guy pounded the wall with his fists and pushed his skull into the clay, trying to make his mind and his heart stop this war in his chest. He spun back to Navaneeth and came to his knees before her, his hands surrounding her hands.

“Navaneeth, I am sorry. I – I just,” Guy’s words fell off his lips, his mind was buzzing, “I’m no good for you. I don’t deserve anything like this. I am a bad man.” Navaneeth, close to him, put her finger to his lips, and those blue eyes of his looked up in sullen tone. Navaneeth, moved to kiss Guy, she bent down to him. Guy did not flinch. There lips met soft and gentle, and Guy felt his heart leap into his throat, then crash back down into his belly. Navaneeth’s lips were soft, warm and inviting. Her fingers touched his chin, leading him into a deeper kiss. Guy relented and moved into the kiss deeper as well. He just wanted the feeling of it. To be desired.

Guy pulled her into his lap, and cradled her face, as the sounds of their moans and kissing filled the hut. Navaneeth moaned against his lips. His hold on her, moved to her waist now, as he gripped her in tense longing. Guy kissed Navaneeth’s neck, and wrapped his hands over the back of her shoulders, as she leaned back into his hold, her throat exposed to him. Tears sprung from Guy’s eyes in abandon, as he tasted her skin, and Navaneeth froze to hear a grown man cry beneath her. His voice was broken by sobs as it streamed from his lips, “I’m sorry, I’m so so  sorry,” Guy shakily got out, his deep voice broken by utter grief.

Navaneeth, righted herself, against his lips and closed her arms around his head and neck, holding him to her breast. Guy sobbed into her scarves and shift, and she held him even closer. Clearly this man was grieving. She had only seen men cry in private when they suffered deep loss, as from a spouse. Her father wept when her mother died.

“Marian,” Guy sputtered out between sobs, “I’m so sorry,”

Navaneeth, cooed at Guy, “There there, my knight,” she breathed against the top of his head, blanketing his dark hair with soft kisses. She recognized the name, it had been screamed across the courtyard days before and it rung crisp now, at his lips. Marian must have been the woman he killed. Someone he had deep feelings for, so why did he kill her then?

Navaneeth decided to keep the past in the past. And continued to hold him against her. His breathing subsided after some minutes, he showed no sign of embarrassment, or apology. Guy looked up at her then, and kissed her on the lips deeper still. Resting his head against hers, “Help me, forget all that I have done,” Guy asked in earnest.

Navaneeth, looked into his eyes, steely and so close to hers in that moment, “As you wish,”

And Navaneeth, loosened her shift, letting her breasts gently fall out, exposed. Guy groaned and moved his mouth over her nipple, his hand caressing her breast hungrily, but gently. Navaneeth gasped as his mouth pursed her nipple between lips and teeth. Her fingers flowed into his hair, pushing him deeper against her breast. He was reveling in her warmth and softness, and murmured against her skin, “so soft, god, so sweet”.

Navaneeth smirked, and pushed him down to the dirt floor, smothering him a second, before he swept her up, and brought her up to the bed. Lying her on her back. His hands moving slowly up her thigh beneath her skirts. His eyes locked on hers as his fingers made it towards her inner thighs, brushing lightly against her mound. Navaneeth was nervous, but only because she had never been with someone foreign before. Would his temper flare up during? Or would he be cruel, like the Sultan?

Guy sensed her apprehension, and kissed the top of her foot, crawling up her body slowly, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his glistening pale skin, and musculature. Navaneeth’s eyes dilated in a flash. Guy hovered, in his britches above her. His arms on either side of her waist on the bed. Guy lowered his head and kissed her exposed belly, a jewel pierced into her skin at the navel. Guy tugged at it with his nimble lips, and Navaneeth huffed out a breath again.

Guy chuckled lightly, before kissing lower down her belly, his hand moving to part her skirts to reveal her to him. His tongue started to lick at her feminine curls, he arousal came in a wave of scent that waft against his face and he groaned more to smell her, before he tasted her.

“Can I taste you?” he asked, his cock pressing against his britches in alertness.

Navaneeth looked down at him, hesitant, “As you wish”, her thoughts were racing, she hadn’t ever been asked that before, her answer embarrassed her, but clearly he wasn’t daunted.

Guy, sighed, and cradled her thighs with his hands and tucked himself between her legs, her skirts half draping over his head. He licked and sucked at her folds and found her nub almost immediately. Navaneeth yelped, and her hand shot to his hair. Guy smiled against her folds, his nose rubbed at her clit as his tongue lapped at her entrance. Navaneeth cried out in pleasure, but that sound had never come from her mouth before, so she was confused. Her grip on his hair tightened, and he stopped.

Guy looked up, the skirt falling to the side of his shoulder, revealing a man enjoying his work, his blue eyes were bright and warm, “Are you alright?” that deep voice resonating now in breaths against her cunt and Navaneeth could feel a warmth rising from her core now.

She managed a few words between rasps as he swirled his finger at her entrance waiting for an answer, “I.. I just, Allah.. that’s good”.

Guy smiled and went back to using his tongue. A long finger pushing into her, smoothly in her wetness, it became two rather quickly and curled up towards the sky inside her. Navaneeth, pulled at his hair and skin with her fingers, feeling the burn inside her building into something else even stronger.

Guy moved then, removing his fingers and kissing his way up to her mouth, positioning himself between her legs, a rattle of his belt could be heard in the quiet hut, even over their mutual panting. Navaneeth, gripped his head in the kiss, tasting herself and immediately becoming even more aroused. Guy’s cock… hovered near her. She could feel the heat from his trousers, his flesh near her own.

He looked at her, before he went in, “I assume you done this before, yes?” His eyes were asking in a sense of duty and respect, Navaneeth immediately understood, and felt a warmth in her heart in that moment too. Navaneeth nodded and murmured a ‘yes’. He seemed to sigh in repose, and then dragged his cock along her slit, getting it wetter.

“I, I’m sorry if I am quick,” he smirked, “and big, Its been awhile since I --- (sighed) have been with a woman,” Guy said, apologetically. Navaneeth giggled a little, and Guy cupped his hand against her mound of curls, his palm resting near her clit. He pushed into her, her cunt gripping and relenting without hesitation. Guy huffed in pleasure and sensation and pulled out a little, before pushing in deeper. Navaneeth watched his reaction in allure and curiosity. He was so different than other men that had used her for sex. Navaneeth seethed when he pushed all the way in, pressing against her core and making her flutter in response. The ache that built inside her was a welcome gift, Guy moved his hand and palmed against her clit in little thrusts.

Guy started to pump into her with some more energy, and Navaneeth clung to his touch in every moment. Crying out as his cock stretched and thrummed against her core, his pumps grew faster and his huffs deeper. His hand moved off her clit and gripped her waist sinking deeper. Navaneeth moaned and cried out again, his pace quicker and fiercer. Following his natural intent to his own end. Navaneeth moved her hand to touch herself and Guy locked eyes with her in recognition again.

His voice was harsh as he moaned out, “Do you want to cum first?” Guy asked.

Navaneeth lost her focus a moment, “what?”  She wasn’t sure how to respond, no one had asked her about her own pleasure before, “Is that what you want?”

Guy shook his head as he continued to pump into her, he slowed then, bending down to kiss her on the lips.

“I want to do better than I have, I want this to be as good for you as it is for me”. Guy pledged.

Navaneeth gulped in response, “I don’t really know what to do”. Guy smirked then, and readjusted his stance, raising her legs up against his chest. She seated on his cock at a delicious angle and Navaneeth felt her cunt clamp down onto him. Guy gulped in response, “That’s what I want”, he said, hungrily under his breath, a low growl resting in his chest.

“As you wish”, she gasped as he started to pump into her again, deep long strokes, drawing out her orgasm in slow torturous sweetness. Sweat was visible at his brow, and glistened across his chest, all of his self-control was mounting as his cock throbbed inside this woman.

Guy pushed deeper and stroked into her core with some pressure, Navaneeth found her clit and helped them both along. Her core fluttered and her walls squeezed, and Navaneeth cried out, his name on her lips. Guy took the cue and pumped faster and faster… meeting her in oblivion as he bruised her core in delight and spurted his seed against her walls with utter abandon.

Guy felt reality hit him in the face, and he pulled out in haste, cursing under his breath. Navaneeth was still panting, her whole body alive in shudders and sensation. Tingles at every level of her skin and cells.

Guy grabbed at some cloth on the bedside, and wiped at her folds, he pushed his hand on her mound, and Navaneeth looked at him, “just push a little, yeah”, He said looking at her. Navaneeth nodded and complied, his seed spilled out of her, and into the cloth. He wiped her folds gently and tossed it on the floor. He came up to hold her against him. Their partially dressed and partially naked bodies, sweaty and warm.

Guy kissed Navaneeth forehead, and she tipped to look up towards him.

“You are an exceptionally curious man, Guy of Gisborne”, Navaneeth said.

Guy smirked, “Thank you for allowing me to do that,”

Navaneeth smiled, “If that is how you do it, I think I may have to follow you back home, regardless”.  A warm chuckle rumbled in his chest, as she settled her face against it, tucking herself under his chin. They both rested for a little while, knowing the best time to leave would be nightfall.

------

(more to come... stay tuned for part 3)

Taglist:

@sweetestgbye @evenstaredits @riepu10 @amylupotter @middleearthpixie @legolasbadass @scariusaquarius @lathalea @richardarmitageshands

Thanks to everyone for reading!!

[dolly-gutzz]

Mid90’s x gn or fem!reader / slight Fuckshit x gn!reader

Reader wanted a nickname, so the boys tried to come up with one. It sucked + readers' first time meeting the boys. 

Warnings!!: two mentions of fem pronouns sorta. Just fluff:D

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

Spike Psyche. That's my nickname. Out of all the things my friends could have nick-named me. Spike Psyche. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say, appalled. Fuckshit nods, swigging back his Coke. 

“Yup.” he replies as Sunburn (aka stevie) giggles at the name.“Why?” I exclaim in disbelief. 

Ray chuckles at the nickname before muttering

 “Thats fucked up” Fuckshit opens his stupid mouth again. “Because all you talk about Is chopping off our heads and putting them on spikes, and how you want to kill yourself after every minor inconvenience.” I gasp, putting my hand over my chest dramatically. “I do not!”

Ruben shakes his head. “Yes, you do.”

FourthGrade chuckles behind his camera and I glare at him. He sinks down into the couch. “I do not talk about killing myself that much guys, if anything Ruben does more than me!” Ruben whips his head around to look at me. “Man, fuck you” He starts “I do not talk about that depressed shit.” I shake my head. “Y’all are trippin’” I look around the shop and see some customers listening in on our conversation. “I will not let yall call me that dumbass name, I like Y/N so much better”

Fourth grade finally chimes in. “But last week you said you hated your basic name and you wanted a nickname.” Bless his innocent soul. “Well I take it back, i am not answering to ‘Spike Psyche’” I sink into the couch with a pout. “Well fine ma, we’ll find you a “good nickname” Fuckshit reasons. I nod. We sit in silence as Ray gets up to help the customer. I look around the shop. 

New posters of artists I like are on the walls. Fuckshit insisted on making the space mine as well as theirs. All I heard was ‘we need new decorations and you have good taste in music’ I didn't really mind though. I've always wanted to add my own little spice into the skate shop ever since I first stepped foot in it. I think back a couple years. 

I was 13. I wanted a new board for my birthday. So, my dad took me to the nearest shop. Four boys sat on a couch near a wall, watching MTV on their small TV. The tall one noticed us first. He nudged the golden haired boy to his left, who then looked up at me. “Oh shit” he muttered under his breath. My dad frowned. I guess he caught that. “Hey, welcome to Motorz, how can I help y'all today?” he asked, clearly trying to impress my dad (on account of my dads business attire). 

My dad spoke for me while I hid behind him in fear. I was never good with new people. Especially ones I found cool. 

As my dad pressed questions like ‘How old even are you?’ and ‘fuckshits your name?’ I only found the kid cooler. How did you even wind up with a name like Fuckshit? 

Soon enough, my own personal skateboard was in my hands, and my dad was dragging me out of the shop despite my wanting to stay. As I looked behind me to the boys, and the supposed fuckshit was waving to me out the door. With my other free hand I waved back. He smiled a soft smile, and then walked back into the shop yelling “that chick was hot!” I smiled to myself the whole way home. I went back to the shop after school one day to see fuckshit again, and just stayed there for three years. My dad warmed up to fuckshit eventually, but still has some grudges against him. 

And I'm still in love with the stupid kid, even though he gets on my nerves almost every day.

 I look at fuckshit now. His hair is longer, yet less taken care of and frizzy. He has more scars from skateboarding. And his eyes look even more green against his tan olive skin. Suddenly, he speaks. “I got it!” I roll my eyes and mutter “what is it?” He smirks and walks over to me slightly slotting his legs between mine. “Your new nickname is Stalker, because you're always staring at me” The boys erupt in laughter. I gasp “fuck you” 

“You wish ma,” 

[terresdebrume]

Heyyyy are you still playing the ask game? If yes: Shaka's pov in TBU??? If not, have a nice day 💞💞💞

[From this asking game]

Hiiiiii! Thank you for the ask! The game is still going, I was just away playing DND when you sent your message xD

This piece is probably going to be on the more experimental side compared to what I've written for TBU before but hopefully it'll give our boy Shaka an occasion to have his behavior understood a little better ^^

Snippet under the cut!

-----------

Shaka hisses when he trips on a rock and lands hard on his hands and knees. He feels dirt knock on his shell as he digs into the earth and winds in his feathers when he dives to catch a mouse. The sun, languorous against his fur as he licks himself clean and water through his roots as he grows—feet on his floor, echoing against his walls, and hands carrying his soft dough to an oven, Shaka’s cosmos popping up at the entrance of the Sanctuary, when he hasn’t felt it for an entire week—

Shaka gasps.

Breathes.

Lets himself notice the other Saints as their cosmoenergies rise in curiosity, shifting towards him each in their own time. He ignores the way his muscles pinch between his shoulder blades and straightens up.

“You good?” Aphrodite asks from behind him.

Shaka is a bird, an insect, a cat, a rosebush. He is Mû and Aldebaraan and Shion and all the servants whose names he doesn’t know, and he is the sky and the clouds and the sparse blades of grass. Somewhere at the very back of his multiple minds, a skinned knee, a bruised hand shout for his attention. He ignores them, and finds the head that will actually nod at his command.

“Good,” Aphrodite says.

Above them, Mû’s cosmos is the closest, already past the coliseum, and Shaka turns the darkness from his eyes towards it.

“See you ‘round,” Aphrodite says.

Shaka almost opens his eyes.

“So soon? Won’t you stay and greet the others?”

Aphrodite snorts, like he does at bad jokes. The bird and the scarab and the cat inside Shaka are unmoved, but somewhere behind the rosebush and the olive trees and the stones of the temple, something shrivels.

“Yeah, right,” Aphrodite sighs—there is something there, something the ants in the ground and the mice in the grain storage do not understand but know they should. Aphrodite speaks before they can sort it out. “See you around, Shaka.”

Aphrodite turns around and leaves an emptiness where the bees and the bugs and the servants were. Something cold and small and alone, lost in a way the stone seats of the Coliseum never are. The void stands for a moment, reaching for Aphrodite and never quite making contact, until Mû is near and the void fits itself around his cosmos.

It fits…wrong. Here is the same energy the earth and the springs and the birds have ever known—the same polite affability, the same calm and assured welcome as before—but where the Void used to disappear around it, there are gaps now. The Void must be doing something wrong, but he has no idea what.

“Shaka,” Mû says, and the Void fits itself back into the Body. “It’s good to see you again. I was worried.”

“Thank you,” Shaka says. “It is good to be back. It has been a long time.”

The Body feels…far away. Distant in a way it never was, and the Void is trying to fit itself back into it when Mû asks:

“Shaka, are you alright? You look…ruffled.”

Mû sounds—feels—like he wants to say something else but can’t find the words.

The polite veneer of his cosmos shivers, unsure what to do, and the Void tries to fit around that but fails, too. It makes the Body feel tighter, makes it impossible to stay inside it, and the Void feels itself slip, until a hand claps the Body’s shoulder, and Shaka gasps, pulled back into something almost whole.

“You can’t really blame him,” Milo says from where he rushed to their side. “I’d be looking ragged too if I got stuck with the Thornbush for a week. Where the hell were you, man?”

Milo’s hand burns and itches on Shaka’s shoulder, but it’s the only thing keeping the Void inside the Body, so Shaka stays silent. He turns back to the stairs instead, where Aldebaraan is coming in, closely followed by Camus, Aiolia and Aiolos. Far behind is Shion and Shura, walking close but not together.

Shaka waits for them in silence, lets them come to him while Milo removes his hand from his shoulder. They come down and ask questions, want to hear the details of Shaka’s misadventure in a way the Void is unable to provide. The Body feels too far away, almost impossible to control. It must answer questions on its own, though, because no one stops to ask what is wrong until Shion finally steps off the last march and, stepping up to the group, makes everyone step back.

When he speaks, the Void struggles to hear anything at all.

“It is good to see you, Shaka,” Shion says.

He is relieved and curious, and his voice vibrates in his chest when he speaks, as it always does. He inclines his head on greeting, and watches Shaka do the same. Shaka looks unharmed, equal to himself, yet there is something unsettling about him that Shion can’t quite put his finger on.

“I came down as soon as I felt you,” Shion says. “Are you quite well?”

The Void untangles itself from Shion’s aura.

“I am,” Shaka says, voice somehow stable even when the Void and the Body can barely hold themselves together. “Thank—”

Somewhere between the Taurus and Gemini temples, pitch-like cosmos bursts into flame, flooding the area with animosity so strong it makes the rest of them recoil as one. Aphrodite’s cosmos flares up in response, bright and achingly foreign.

“Do you think it’d kill them to wait for five freaking minutes?” Milo mutters.

[thedgeofreality]

Burning Love

summary: Earlier that day you met Elvis in the lobby of the hotel. He was silent and mysterious. Yet he wanted to get to know you better, so he invited you to dinner and things go a little.... off the rails.

warnings: can't really think of any. this is just a fluff once again. elvis being elvis. doing dumb stuff.

pairing: reader x big daddy e

wc: 1.6K

It was evening and you made your way to the restaurant in the hotel. Earlier that day, you met a certain man in the lobby named Elvis. He was mysterious and one of the best-dressed men you had ever seen. He wore makeup, but somehow the makeup made him look a lot more masculine. The soft smudgy eyeliner made his bright blue eyes stand out more, along with the light mascara on his eyelashes. When your eyes fell on him in the lobby he was wearing a plain black suit, with an olive green button-up underneath it. Finishing his look with a silky brown scarf and a gold belt with chains that looked very heavy to wear and expensive. It was so obvious he had money, as he looked expensive. But especially the jewelry he was wearing. You could tell that the diamond rings he was wearing were most definitely real

Elvis barely said a word to you when he saw you. All he knew was that he wanted to get to know you. He told you to come see him in the restaurant that same day. You don't know why but you agreed to. Usually, you wouldn't do such a thing as he is literally a stranger, but something about him intrigued you.

So here you are in the restaurant, scanning through the crowd of people to find him. The restaurant was dimly lit with only candles on the table and one yellow light in each corner. The walls were painted black and the carpet on the floor was dark red. The restaurant almost gave a vampirey vibe. You knew the restaurant's vibe was just to Elvis' liking.

You looked around to see him sitting in the corner of the restaurant, trying to avoid everyone around him as much as possible. You made your way through the restaurant excusing yourself as you accidentally hit someone on the head with your bag. His blue eyes met yours and you could feel your cheeks turning bright red.

You sat down in front of him and observed him. Thankfully the table he chose was near one of the yellow lights so you could see him better. He had put on makeup like the first time you met him in the lobby. You could see some mascara and eyeliner on his eyes. His lashes were long and voluminous, it sure could make any woman jealous. His lashes were so long that they were resting against the glass of his colored sunglasses. Why he was wearing sunglasses inside was a mystery to you.

This time Elvis was wearing a long black coat and leather black gloves on his hands. He was once again fully clothed in black, in contrast with the bright blue and purple scarf he wore around his neck.

You found him strange. His style was different and you didn't know whether you liked it or not. You were used to men not putting any effort into their looks, yet there he was looking fashionable every day. It made him stand out. Elvis wasn't the kind of person to go by unnoticed. Eyes were on him at all times. And he knew that, despite wanting to be secretive and not wanting to be seen, he liked all the attention. He felt empowered by it

"Are you gonna keep staring at me or are you finally gonna tell me your name?" Elvis said, snapping you out of your daydream about him. You looked up to meet his eyes again.

"Y/N" You said softly, taken aback by his boldness. "I didn't catch that. Speak up, baby." He replied, slightly leaning forward over the table almost knocking the candle over that was in the middle of the table.

"My name is Y/N" You said louder this time. Elvis leaned back in his chair, nodding. "Y/N." He whispered to himself. "That's a nice name."

Then an awkward silence fell between the two of you. You didn't know what to say or do. All you knew was that you wanted to go back to your room and hide from him. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The sound of the clock ticking seemed to get louder, mocking the silence and all the seconds you were wasting by not talking and getting to know him better. Then the clock ticking got overruled by other people their conversations. All their voices started mixing, occasionally one word sounding clear as day. It felt as if they were also making fun of you, you knew that couldn't be farther from the truth but yet you believed it. You looked around the room nervously, there were a bunch of different types of people in the restaurant. One man sitting next to a woman, who very clearly didn't enjoy his company. The other sitting at the bar alone, wanting nothing to do with anyone.  

You looked back at Elvis and his eyes were still on you. Like he was noting your every move, trying to figure out your personality and the way you and your mind worked. Elvis started bouncing his leg nervously and bit his bottom lip. While bouncing his leg he accidentally lifted the table and this time he did knock the candle over, falling on the cotton tablecloth. "Well god damn." He said, standing up to get out of his chair. The candle wax was spilling everywhere and before you could do anything the table was set aflame. "Table on fire guys!" He exclaimed to the waiters who were standing at the bar, pointing to the table. All eyes were on them and this time they were judging, hard. Everyone started whispering things to the person sitting next to them. You felt anxiety hit you hard as Elvis grabbed your hand. "Come on dear, this isn't our problem. Let's go somewhere else." You laughed softly and followed him. You heard the workers yelling at the two of you as you ran outside.

When outside, you looked at your hands. You were now officially holding hands with him. You felt the same heat hit you, as the heat from inside. Except this time nothing was on fire, well maybe you were burnin up. It felt like someone lit up a match inside your heart and blew it out immediately. You felt weird. Elvis quickly let go of your hand and cleared his throat.

"Well that was something." He said while you were walking down the street to god knows where. You laughed, not believing the whole situation and what you just witnessed. "Do you think we're allowed back in?" You asked. "They have to allow it, we paid." You nodded, agreeing.

You kept your gaze on the floor, you were unsure of where the two of you were going. But right now you were too afraid to ask. Sure, you felt a little more comfortable around Elvis, but despite that, you still were very much intimated by him. Something about him scared you, you weren't sure what. Maybe it was his mysterious behavior, maybe it was because you didn't understand him and he was complicated or maybe it was the unkown factor. That had to be it, right? No one likes the unknown. The unknown being like your first day on your new job, or stepping into a room with a blindfold on.

With all these thoughts, you didn't notice how long you guys had been walking. And how silent it had been between you two.

Elvis looked down at you smiling, standing in front of you. "What?" You asked. "I just wanted to show you a place, where I love going when I need to clear my mind." He replied and stepped aside. Allowing you to see the beautiful landscape in front of you.

They were surrounded by trees and there was a small pond with a bridge over it. Some of the pond was lined with rocks. There was wildlife growing in and around the pond. Water lilies were floating on the water, while fish were swimming in the water. You smiled and looked at everything in awe. Taking the beautiful nature in. Elvis took your hand again and led you to the bridge. Standing on the bridge, looking down at the fish in the water.

"Thank you for showing me this." You said and Elvis stared at her, smiling. "You're welcome."

The two of you stayed there for a while, just having small talk and staring at the water. It was getting late, together you sat down on the bridge and stared at the sky above them. The sun was setting and the sky created a pink and purple gradient. It was truly magical to see. "I think we have to go now." Elvis said while standing up, getting rid of all the dirt that got on his pants. You nodded and stood up.

Together you calmly walked back to the hotel, not having a care in the world. When you were back in the hotel again, the staff still seemed somewhat upset at you. But honestly, who can blame them? After all, Elvis set a table on fire. Elvis just laughed at them. How could they not see the comedy in it?

Elvis walked upstairs to his hotel room. you followed carefully. Instead of going to your room, you followed Elvis. This was a taste of his own medicine when he tried following you earlier that day. Except he didn't seem to notice that you were following him. He shut the door right in your face. You stared at the door that was just slammed in your face, as you build up the courage to knock.

You knocked on the door and shortly after, Elvis opened the door smiling. He leaned against the door frame, and hummed. "Come on in, honey."