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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

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a/n: part two for this request - "may i request a fem reader x anthony lockwood where reader is a super talented fittes agent who constantly trades barbs with lockwood but he soon realises she fancies him so he ends up teasing her during missions by doing small stuff like pulling her close and calling her babe when no one is around - since quite a few of you wanted one! if you want to find it on my masterlist, it's called Love, simply because I'm terrible at naming my fanfics lmao. i hope you enjoy!

warnings: mentions of death/suicide (very vague), language female reader taglist: @cassiopeiia24 @nessa-stark @galactidiot @randomfanficreader @tom-foolery-time

part 1

Loneliness. Terrible, suffocating loneliness. It's thick and cloying and it's getting harder to breathe. God, your throat is closing up and your lungs hurt, weighed down by this strong sense of isolation and abandonment. How are you meant to function when it's so powerful, so heartbreaking? It's overtaking your heart, filling your lungs, intoxicating your blood.

With a feeling like whiplash, you're torn from your vision, and your hand is tugged away from the tree branch and placed on someone's chest. You can feel someone's heartbeat, steady and reassuring, and your own slows. Breathing is a little easier now.

"You're okay, love. I'm here."

The voice shakes you out of your daze, and your eyes snap open, only to be met with the face of Anthony Lockwood.

The setting sun is working wonders on him. Gold and orange rays of light fight for dominance on those high cheekbones and the tip of his nose. His dark eyes swirl with hues of copper and caramel. His lips, turned down slightly with worry, hide the possibility of a bright smile as you look at him.

"Don't -"

"Call you that," he finishes. "Yes, I know. You realise that the more you tell me not to, the more I will."

You scowl at him, but you don't move. A month ago, you would've pulled out of his grip and away from him within a second but, now, you can't bring yourself to.

He knows this all too well, and he revels in it. More often now does he find some excuse to have you touch him. Oh, (name), pass me some salt bombs, won't you? Followed by a not-so-subtle brush of fingers. Do I have lavender in my hair? Get it out, please, the scent becomes too strong sometimes. And there's usually no way for you to get out of shaking it out of his hair because he often puts your hand there himself. Let me walk you home. Then he'll drape an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close or safe as he calls it.

Maybe you've bolstered this attitude of his because more often than not, you don't object. Yes, you'll call him an idiot or a twat or something more insulting, but you've come to welcome these touches, however fleeting they may or may not be.

So, now, with your fingers splayed over his white shirt, it's almost as if you can't bring yourself to move. It doesn't seem like Lockwood is particularly fussed about moving, either.

"What did you see?" he asks, eyeing you carefully. "Something seemed different."

Despite your team's displeasure about paired up so frequently with Lockwood and Co for certain cases by DEPRAC, you haven't been too bothered by it. You and Lockwood have begun working like a team, figuring out each other's tells and habits while still throwing insults and remarks back and forwards. He's become used to watching you use Touch to figure out where sources are, learning how your body reacts in accordance to different things.

You don't want to tell him that this particular vision fed into your own feelings, so instead you say, "It was just stronger than usual. We're close. Very close."

At last, his hand releases yours, and he places his hands on his hips, staring up at the towering tree before you. Members from both of your teams linger around the whole park, scouting out for any clues as to where the source is, seemingly with no luck. The reason for that is likely the pairings. Lucy and Kat and Ned, George and Bobby and Kipps. None of them are getting on particularly well.

"You think it's the branch itself?"

"I'm not sure." You flash your torchlight on the thick branch. "This guy, well, you know... His body was found here after days of just..."

"Hanging there."

"Thank you for that input. But yes. It would make sense. The rope had to be cut off because it was tied so tight. And the emotions were extremely strong, so it would be my best bet."

"Well, whatever you say, love."

You purse your lips. "You're insufferable."

"You love that about me."

Fighting down the urge to strangle him, you pull your silver net out of your belt. "I say we place the net over the branch, see if the ghost still appears. If it does, well, we're fucked, to put it simply. I'll be completely clueless. But, if it doesn't, then we can secure it in place overnight and get someone to remove the branch in the morning."

"Aye, aye, captain."

"Shut up."

Lockwood grins at you then, so bright and dazzling that for a moment you're frozen.

Maybe it affects you the way it does because it's something you've lacked for years. You can't remember the last time someone smiled at you with such joy before Lockwood, as if you've done something to deserve it.

Gently, he takes the silver net from your hands and swings out over the branch before stepping back and looking at it like he's just finished some incredible piece of art. You roll your eyes, glancing back at your teams again.

"I think Barnes pairs us up on purpose," you say. "He knows we don't all get on."

"We get on tremendously," Lockwood remarks. "We went from you insulting my clothes and face, and me making fun of your moods, to being the best of friends."

Frowning, you say, "I wouldn't say 'the best of friends'. I tolerate you, Lockwood. And your face and fashion haven't improved over this last month, I hope you know. I mean, come on, grey tie and pink socks? It's like you're taking inspiration from some raw salmon. Do I have to buy you some socks for your Christmas?"

He nudges your shoulder with his. "You hear yourself? You're on about getting me a Christmas present!"

His fingers brush yours then, and you almost jump from the contact. His hand is warm against the back of yours, and your fingers twitch slightly with the urge to entwine with his, even if part of you is telling you not to do it.

With a jolt, you step away. "Let's wait for this ghost. I'll let the others know about the plan."

There's something in his eyes, an unfamiliar spark within their darkness, that sends heat to your cheeks and a flutter in your stomach. But you turn away, adamant that you won't fall for his charm or whatever this is. You won't. Maybe.

"Oh, I've been looking for that!"

You turn as you throw a bag of pasta into your shopping basket, stopping short when you see Lockwood standing on the opposite side of the aisle. He's dressed in his usual shirt-trousers-ridiculously-long-jacket get-up, grinning with a basket hooked over his arm. For a minute, you're confused about what he means, and then you realise which hoodie you're wearing. His grey one.

In your defence, you thought you had picked up your grey Fittes one and had been a little confused by the length of it on you, but now you realise that it is not yours at all but the one he gave you a month ago. The one you keep forgetting to give him.

"Oh, yes. Um, I'll get it back to you soon."

He laughs and says, "You've told me that for weeks now. You might as well keep it now, love."

You glance down at the hoodie, fingers fiddling with the old hem. "I'll get it back to you."

"Whatever you say."

His smile is blinding, and you find yourself smiling, too. It's only a little tug at the corner of your lips, but you can see the happiness in his eyes at the sight of it. It makes something in your chest feel warm and proud and loved.

Loved. The word sends sparks down your spine. When was the last time you felt like that?

"Well, I have to get going," Lockwood says, gesturing to his basket. "George is getting tetchy and we have almost no food left in the house. I'm worried I'll get home and the house will have been destroyed in his rage."

You snort. "Kipps is the same at the Fittes offices. I try and steer clear of him when he's in a mood. He's worse than me."

"Worse than you? Sorry, love, but that's hard to believe."

"Oh, be quiet." You give him a look, and humour glints in his eyes. "I was going to offer to give you warnings of when he's particularly irritated, but I won't, now. You can just suffer."

"You have to admit," he says, "that Kipps is awfully funny when he's mad. He goes red as a tomato."

"He does."

Lockwood's smile softens to something more private, and your heart skips a beat. You want to curse at yourself. It's been a month of spending more cases together, of him walking you home late at night or catching you unawares, and already you feel differently about him. Once, you saw him as nothing more but an arrogant boy whom you couldn't stand, whose very presence had you on edge. Although you enjoyed taking the mick out of him and riling him up, you wanted to keep your interactions to a minimum.

But now?

God, you're not sure what changed. Maybe it's the way he smiles at you like he's proud of you for everything you've done and gone through, and so endlessly happy with you for simply existing. Maybe it's the gentle touches of reassurance and how he has somehow come to know your tells of nervousness or apprehension. Maybe it's how he's come to know you so well, well enough to slip little snacks you like into your kitbag for you to find on later cases when it's just you and your Fittes team.

Even now, you can spot your favourite biscuits in his basket - biscuits you're aware nobody in his house likes.

"I'll see you around," Lockwood says with his enchanting smile.

It brings out a slightly bigger smile from you. "See you, Lockwood."

As he brushes past you, his fingers twitch as if to latch onto yours, and he says, "Call me Anthony from now on, love."

"All right," you murmur. "Anthony."

"I'm going to kill you one day."

Lockwood breathes a laugh, peering around the corner of the street. "Who would provide you such amazing entertainment if not for me?"

You draw your rapier. "Anyone. Quite literally anyone. You know, there's this thing called salt, and Kat puts it in Bobby's coffee when he's not looking sometimes. However, now is really not the time for that. Are those Rawbones still looking for us?"

"No."

"Oh, good."

"Well, not really. They've found us."

A horrible wail pierces your ears, one that Lockwood can't hear, and you flinch, glancing past him and to the ghosts that are leering at you. Rawbones, terrible variations of Wraiths, with no skin and bulging eyes. The sound of their teeth grinding sets the hairs on your arms on end., and the glare you send his way is scathing.

"I told you we should've just left!"

"Nonsense." Lockwood's rapier is moving fluidly in front of him, keeping the Visitors at bay. "You're the best agent I know besides myself. We can handle these."

Scowling, you throw a salt bomb at each of the two Rawbones. "Just because we can, doesn't mean we should. We've no way of finding a source!"

"Hey, think about it. If these guys kill us, then at least you won't have had to get your hands dirty killing me. Either way, we can dispatch them easily."

You glower at him and throw another salt bomb, watching the flakes disintegrate parts of the other-light and speckle the ground. "Who would even want to haunt a street with a greasy chippy and stinking public toilets?"

He grins as he looks back at you. "Maybe they were particularly fond of the chippy. Can't beat fish and chips on a Friday night. Are you a mushy peas or gravy kind of girl?"

"At the moment, neither!"

One of the Rawbones takes its chance with his peas-or-gravy distraction and launches towards Lockwood, but it never gets the chance. With all your force, you shove him out of the way, and you both slam into the wall. A harsh chill overtakes you, and you're dimly aware of a tingling pain in your arm, but you ignore it, throwing another salt bomb.

Lockwood takes up holding them back with his rapier, and it's then that you notice your jumper's sleeve steaming, a section of it burned away by ectoplasm. You hadn't been expecting to be out so late and for so long, so you didn't think to bring your thick jacket with you. Regretting your decision, you stare as the skin of your arm starts turning blue.

"Anthony?"

"Mm?" He doesn't look away from the ghosts.

"We - we have an issue."

"Do we? I think we're handling this quite well. My shoulder hurts from slamming into a brick wall, but -"

"Anthony!"

He glances back at you, his eyes immediately drawn to your burned and smoking sleeve, and the blue, swelling skin beneath. He pales momentarily, gritting his teeth, and something overtakes his expression. Anger. But not at you.

"Cover your ears and get back behind that bin over there."

"You can't be serious. It's surrounded by mouldy bananas and -"

"Go!"

The urgency in his voice has you moving before you even realise it. Ducked behind the big bin a few feet away, you peer around it and try to block out the horrible smell. Lockwood is still holding off the pair of Rawbones, but he's holding something in his free hand. It's only when he's running over to you to take cover that it was a magnesium flare.

An explosion shakes the ground, and although you had covered your ears, they still ring loudly. You can't hear what Lockwood is saying, but he drags you away by your good arm and down the street in the opposite direction from the ghosts. They're not gone permanently, but the flare has given you enough time to make your escape.

It's only when you're a few streets away that you both stop to catch your breaths beside an old phone box. You're struggling, feeling as though you're trying to breathe through a single straw, and your skin feels weird. Overly aware of the inner workings beneath it.

"Anthony," you repeat, but your voice isn't as strong.

Your legs are shaking, and you can't feel your arm anymore. You can faintly hear him speaking in the phone box, asking for an ambulance, and then he's in front of you, catching you as you stumble against a shop wall and to your knees. He tears the sleeve off your jumper, preventing any more ectoplasm from getting on your arm. Not that it would make a difference. It's already getting worse.

"You'll be all right, love," he promises, holding you close to his chest as you shiver. "An ambulance is coming. They'll be here soon."

You don't have the energy to speak, but you manage a small nod.

"They'll give you an adrenaline shot, and you'll be fine. You can get right back to insulting me."

His shirt is warm beneath your hand as you grip it weakly. It's a strange sensation feeling your organs slowly stop working. Already, your pulse sounds weaker in your ears.

"Hey, stay with me."

Your eyes find his and, for a moment, everything's all right. They're warm and soft and so, so comforting, and he's giving you that private smile he's taken to sharing with you. His cheeks are rosy, and salt is dusted in his hair like snow. Your lips tug in a meagre attempt at a smile.

"You're an asshat," you manage. "We should've gone the way I said."

He breathes a laugh. "Yeah, we should've."

His hand brushes hair from your eyes, lingering on your cheek for a moment, and you lean into the touch, relishing in the feeling of his pulse against your skin. If you don't think too hard, you can pretend it's yours and that your organs aren't on shutdown.

"Hey, look," Lockwood says gently. "See the lights, love? Ambulance is here to help you. You'll get that adrenaline and you'll be fine."

And you know you will be. His voice is so genuine that you know he's not just saying it to ease your mind. You've seen agents and civilians with ghost-touch, seen their skin turn blue and swell and their lives slowly drain away when the ambulances took too long to reach them. But you'll be okay. As long as Lockwood stays with you.

Giving Anthony Lockwood your address was the best idea you've ever had.

He knows where you hide your spare key outside of your flat, so he lets himself in as you lounge on your sofa, watching the news on your old TV. For now, you're out of action, your arm still taking time to recover from ghost-touch, though you're all right in most other senses.

Your arm aches still and has taken to staying a faint shade of blue, and sometimes you have the unshakeable fear that you've not been cured of the ghost-touch, but you always come out of it fine.

The one benefit of being on sick leave is that Lockwood stops by every single day without fail with a coffee from your favourite café, along with a fresh packet of your favourite biscuits and a newspaper. You're not big on reading the newspapers, but you figure he brings them simply because his face is appearing in them more and more, and he wants to show off.

"Oh, you're an angel," you murmur as you take the coffee from his hands, taking a long sip of it and sighing contentedly.

He beams at you, scattering the biscuits onto a plate. He does that so you can gradually eat them over the day without having to struggle to pick them out of the packet, but you're sure he knows that you scoff them all the minute he leaves. As soon as you're back out of your flat and working, you're going to have to get back to your morning runs. Maybe the runs can be you running to the shop to buy more...

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he says, bringing the plate over and setting it on your coffee table. "I'll pretend you've said it because you adore me so and not because I've turned into your slave."

You smile sweetly over the lid of your cup. "You don't have to get me stuff. I've told you this. It's your fault for being a stubborn ass."

He laughs, sitting at the end of the sofa, just beside where your feet are curled up. "And there's the name-calling. Glad to know you're getting better, love. Besides, if I can make life a little easier for you, I may as well. Now you owe me."

"So it's not out of the kindness of your heart, then?" You roll your eyes, taking another sip of coffee. "And I thought we were friends."

Raising an eyebrow, he says, "Just friends?"

For a second, something in your chest constricts and you can't look at him. "I mean, if you really want to say best friends, you can go for it, but I'm not really in the business of -"

"Just shut up and admit you like me already, love. It's agonising watching this play out."

You freeze, mouth slightly opened and eyes wide. Lockwood looks at you with a smug expression, eyes glittering with something - mischief, glee. Swallowing the lump in your throat and closing your mouth, you look away from those dark eyes of his.

Growing up how you did, it's always been hard for you to discern your feelings beyond irritation and anger. The more time you spent with Lockwood, the more things you felt and the more confusing everything became. Finally, you had a friend, someone you could laugh with and explore a part of you that you've never been permitted to. You've found out that you like things you never thought you would, like walking home in the dark, pulled close to someone's side. Shopping with the hopes of seeing the people you know and care for. Reading. Feeling someone's arms around you. Being smiled at in a way that makes you feel warm and mushy inside.

Lockwood has been the one to start the change, to awaken these feelings inside of you. Before him, you were lonely. Horribly so, and your anger was a way for you to mask that. But ever since your time spent together, one particular feeling has always stood out, and you've never been able to understand it.

Love.

You're not really sure what love is, but you know you feel it when he's around. When he grins at you in that special way of his, or when he plays with your fingers on long walks home, trying to figure out what each line and crease means as if he's a palm reader. When he keeps you close to his side and steps in front of you, shielding you from ghosts even though you're more than capable of taking care of yourself.

Love might be the feeling of happiness in your chest when you look at him. It might be the flutter you get in your tummy when his name is spoken, or his skin touches yours.

"I..." You struggle with the words.

But he understands. You know with the way the corners of his lips twitch and his nose crinkles that he understands. You've never been good at communicating verbally, something he's begun to learn.

"I've known for a while," he says. "I'm irresistible, after all."

The humour helps ease the whirlwind in your mind. "You're insufferable."

He leans over, his fingers brushing yours before latching on. You've had this exact conversation before. "You love me for it."

You do. You really do.

So you don't move away when his face nears yours, watching as he slowly comes closer, closer, closer. His eyes are so bright, speckled with so many shades of bronze and copper and gold, and so happy.

No, you do move. You lean forward, and all of a sudden your lips are on his and his hands are pulling your face impossibly closer and you're clutching onto him with your good hand. And you're spiralling, down and down into this feeling people call love, falling onto it like a soft bed you've never had the privilege to sleep in before. There's an ever-so-faint taste of bitter tea on his lips, which are so soft it shouldn't be real.

But it is. It's so, so real, and you're kissing him. He's kissing you. The world melts away. You feel like you're exploding in bursts of colour and flowers and stars until you're nothing more than the air that surrounds you.

And when he pulls away, you smile wider than you ever have before.

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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tiptapricot · 9 months

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Wanted to do some MCU MK sys ship dynamic headcanons since I care ab them a lot n wanted to put a bit of my thoughts out! I’m not part of a system myself but have tried to look into/discuss/etc. the ways romances between headmates can occur and play out, but if anyone has input, additions, anything like that, that is more than welcome :-)

To start off, some ideas on jakesteven!

Jake’s always watched from afar, and I think that’s how affection for Steven grew initially

He’s been aware of him since they were younger, but the only interaction he was able to get was indirect things, like seeing new books appear on the shelves, or finding drawings, or being close to front when Steven was babbling to his captive audience of action figures about the new pieces of history he’d learned

When they grow older, it’s similar

Steven becomes less active for awhile in the middle, specifically during their military and mercenary years, and it makes Jake realize how much he relied on knowing he was there to keep grounded, to not let weariness overtake him

Knowing there’s light somewhere helps the dark seem less all consuming

But then Steven surfaces again when Marc moves to London with Layla, and it’s like a breath of fresh air

Jake watches the apartment grow, watches it become a home, filled with books and snacks and decorations and all of Steven’s little quirks (he only sits on a few chairs, covers his couches with reading material, leaves his cereal bowls out, collects maps like there’s no tomorrow)

And Jake watches. He steps through Steven’s life and admires it. He flips through the beginning of books he’s bookmarked, puts his dishes away, and whistles tunes to himself as sun filters in through the slanted windows

He starts getting little gifts for him now and then, too. It’s not even intentional at first, exactly. It begins when he sees a little Egypt postcard on one of his reconnaissance outings for Marc’s missions, and he picks it up, and leaves it by Steven’s door with a little scrawled note from a mystery neighbor

The next time he finds himself in front in the flat, the card is hanging up among the others with a fancy themed push pin, and it makes Jake smile

He ends up getting more

He hides them in the flat or puts them in a box by the door with some sender Steven will write off, and he watches as they make their home among the rest (they aren’t like Marc’s, he’s not hiding behind a memory)

It’s a way to make Steven feel safe, in a way. To make Jake feel like his presence is known in reassurance. And also just because he cares about their shared happiness, and Steven is part of that.

When he goes out, to do Khonshu’s dirty work, to be the silent informant for his fist of vengeance, he makes sure to keep Steven wrapped up safe and deep in the headspace where he won’t so much as think

Steven becomes a focus, something to protect and to keep Jake on his feet. It’s sort of part of his job anyway, but making it more solid and conscious helps him to take better steps for it, to be more aware of when they’re off balance or Steven is unregulated.

It’s easier to do that for him than Marc. Marc is easy to resent, to get frustrated at. Jake has a bitterness for being ignored, and for Marc’s treatment of the body over the years, and so he leans more towards Steven, takes more of an active interest because it takes less energy. He still cares for Marc, of course he does, he doesn’t hate him, but he’s just… tired. He’s tired of having to pick up after him all the time with no real recognition, and without getting to work the issues with their dynamic out directly

Romance, additionally, is strange for Jake. It doesn’t come easy, it’s not something he thinks about, it’s not a need for him, and he’s never really felt it before, so doesn’t know how he would (the aroace spectrum is strange, and he wouldn’t know how to define it if it happened)

A mix of that and his feelings on Marc I think cause him to initially fall in love with the… idea of Steven, with the concept of a relationship that’s not quite there

He’ll come back to the flat after a long day and absentmindedly chat with Gus or to the flat (“Marc got us in a pretty tight situation today Steven. Can you believe him? Had to save our ass again.”), and smile at the big research paper spread over his desk, or at a new set of additions written neatly in the margins of his most recent book

Sometimes Steven is kind of there, to talk to and to listen, but it’s a blurry in between state where he’s not really Seeing Jake, not really talking to him. Their brain’s just a bit melty and Jake seeking companionship thins lines and walls

When Jake’s close enough to front to be aware of what’s going on, he likes listening to Steven talk. He’ll relay the stories to Gena like he was there for them, and when she gives him extra takeout, he’ll squirrel them away in Steven’s fridge to surprise him later

Steven talks to himself a lot, narrates things, asks questions to no one

Sometimes Jake answers, pretends like Steven’s talking to him, and sometimes he is. Steven will chatter to himself, and to someone else, he just doesn’t realize it, doesn’t realize the thoughts of an imagined conversation are in someone else’s voice, but it’s still there. Connections before he’s aware of them, a comfort of someone else’s presence behind his eyes that Steven can’t really put words to.

And it feels nice… Steven is someone to Jake (and he is to Steven, though more in the negative space and the twinge of a person)

When Jake notices Steven’s interest in Dylan he… part of him squeezes, because seeing Steven wish for that connection is something he knows so well, so achingly well, and so he gets an idea

He wants Steven to be happy, wants to give him this moment, and so he asks Dylan out for him, sets the whole thing up

And it is about making Steven happy, but maybe it’s also about the idea of… of getting to answer the questions Dylan asks him, and hearing Steven laugh, and feeling Dylan’s hand touch theirs, and pretending it’s him there instead

It would be the closest he’d ever get to that, after all

The date doesn’t happen, of course. But Cairo does, and everything else that comes with it

By the time Jake and Steven actually connect, by the time they stand face to face in a corner of their mind, it has been so so long

And Steven looks at him as a stranger, as someone he doesn’t know and could even fear (initially), but there’s also a familiarity there. Steven recognizes parts of Jake—the voice, the color, the vibe—and there’s a warmth he understands even if it’s out of focus

Jake looks at Steven in return and he sees all the details of his life that he experienced secondhand, sees the joy of his interests, and the knowledge of which foods he favors, and Steven may not know that in return but there isn’t hostility. There’s curiosity

It’s new territory overall, all of them trying to communicate, to actually function as a team instead of disjointed actors in their own life

Marc is wary, Jake is tired, Steven is frustrated to be caught between them

But they move forward, and learn about each other

Steven seeks Jake out the most. He wants to know who he is, wants to understand him, and wants to make him feel welcomed in their brain

He sure understands what it’s like to be outside of things, to not really feel like he belongs, and he doesn’t want Jake to feel the same

On Jake’s end, it’s a lot to process

There’s an aspect to all of it, of Steven and his feelings for Steven, becoming real, of that connection and dynamic feeling more solid and possible and there, and Jake bristles back from it

Because it’s different when it’s solid, it’s different when a concept becomes reality. He doesn’t know if he’ll like a relationship for real or if he’ll be worth it to the other person

He doesn’t want to be intimidating, and so some of Jake’s affection pulls back. He still cares for Steven, of course he does, but romance settles to a lower hum

He gets quieter, hovering and trying to stay out of the way still, but Steven reaches out and pokes and prods at him, his spirit of investigation and exploration never ceasing, and slowly, Jake opens up

Somedays he’ll be driving his cab when there’s a push of phantom touch on his shoulders, like Steven’s looking over from the back, and Steven will pop a question about where they’re going and what they’re doing

Others, Jake comes into the body to find his gloves rolled up nicely on the counter, or a few bottles of different leather polish sitting in a paper bag on the dining table, a little sticky note with “Hope one of these works for you!” hanging off a handle

In return, afternoons will find Steven walking around his favorite circuit of stores and little shops, only to find himself hesitating and going in a different direction, ending up at a hole in the wall bookstore he’s never seen with a flash of Jake’s smile behind his eyes

Jake gets them better shampoo, and Steven spends a whole shower enjoying the smell of it and the way it makes their skin feel, only to tease Jake later about ruining their hair with his hat

Steven finds care in gifts and attention, and Jake finds care in actions that show the other is known

They begin talking about history, either while cocon or through notes and books, sharing the different types they both find fascinating

Jake’s into car’s and cities, maps and urban culture, and Steven’s never died down on Egyptology and ancient myths and societies, and they help fuel each other’s joy

Steven tries to tell Marc it’s worth it, that Jake is not some new obstacle to overcome but a new connection to be made, but it’s still slow there. Marc is stubborn and has his own deep issues that will take longer to unravel

But that doesn’t discourage Steven. He and Jake enjoy each other’s company. It’s a balance of calmness and energy, ease and excitement

And this time, Jake falls in love with Steven, right there, for real, and Steven falls too

Or maybe a trip and a soft landing is a better way to describe it. Not a hard shift, just an… evolution. Small things taking on new meaning

One glove removed, hands numb and strange as they push their fingers together. Rubbing the thumb, floating with each other

Notes signed with more affectionate names, scrawled with “take care of yourself and the body today, do something nice, love you!”

Flowers left on the dinner table, chocolates in the glove box

They dream of pressing their foreheads together and hugging tight one night, and Steven wakes up with a vague memory of the scratch of a mustache on his lips

They find a lot in each other

Jake, for Steven, is a tether and a grounding rod. A solid presence to reach for when he’s overwhelmed or scared, when he’s too caught in a rush of thoughts or isn’t sure what to do

Jake calms him down and reminds him of basics, of breathing and eating and sleeping. He also introduces (and reintroduces in some cases) Steven to new experiences

He opens up when Steven finds an interest in exploring makeup and presentation, helping him learn the movements, the balance, and to experiment with what he likes. He also makes sure to take them out to hit Latin American food joints all around London on different date nights, helping Steven discover/remember old flavors, and to bring him further into their community

Steven is the one in return to help Jake slow down and lean on others more often, to savor things. He pulls him into activities at home and encourages him to help them meet new people as often as he pushes for lazy days to recover spoons. Jake’s not not social, but he doesn’t like expanding outside of his Trusted people, and it can be hard to get him to sometimes, but Steven helps

Steven’s also a good buffer against Khonshu. Jake is steadfast on many boundaries, but still lets himself be run ragged in others, pushing himself when he doesn’t need to. Steven scolds him for it, and always reminds Jake of his own autonomy and reality and weight.

One night, on a case, Steven finds himself pulled forward only to come to front in the middle of a fight, the Mr Knight suit snapping imperfectly around his knuckles. He can feel a burst of panic in their gut, and Jake’s outline shaking a bit too far out of reach. He flexes their fingers into fists only to feel wetness sticking to their palms, glancing up to see a dog-man with the shreds of Jake’s gloves in its teeth. Steven feels a flash of anger swell in his chest, and takes it down roughly

He nabs the gloves from the creature’s mouth when he’s done, not worrying about subduing it or about how damaged the gloves may be, and gets them into Jake’s car after a bit of wandering around to find it

Up on the building tops Khonshu watches, words of “Look at how soft you have made him, Worm,” and “Pathetic” pressing into their skull as Steven twists the key and feels the engine revv to life

“I’ve already engaged in animal cruelty once today, Khonshu, don’t make me do it again,” Steven bites back

He drives them home, gets them inside, and washes their shivering hands in the sink until they’re dry and clean and no bad sensations grit against their fingernails. Then Steven wraps them in a blanket, grabs some thread, and puts on an old telenovela

Jake settles slowly over the next few hours, but not anywhere solid before they sleep. When he fronts next it’s been a few days since he was out at all, and he finds his gloves sitting rolled up on the counter again, messy but tight stitching closing up the sides

He smiles, and feels a very tender part of him twist

They aren’t together all the time. Steven and Jake can interact in headspace now and then, but every day is different for what Works, and they can’t really Plan to cofront even if they can try positive triggers or Jake pulling Steven forward. It’s just not always where their brain is

But they adjust how they can. Takeout to reheat from a good night so the other can taste it later, taped shows, half finished craft projects for the other to complete, books they can both annotate in their own colors of pen and highlighter, etc.

They make an easy, warm, weight for each other, like a gas station cup of coffee settled on the cover of a paperback, and it’s good for them. It’s really, really good

(MarcJake)

#moon knight #moon knight 2022 #jake lockley #steven grant #jakesteven #the fruit is headcanoning again #the fruit is talking again

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acourtofquestions · 11 days

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Okay okay, so... who, out of everyone you know about rn is your favorite? (Fleetfoot is included, Fleetwood is adorable)

Thank you for such a great question!

I love a lot of things about so many characters, & am really enjoying getting to know them in my first read of the Throne of Glass series (so it changes a lot)… Honestly, Fleetfoot might be my most consistent😂favorite😊, I don’t think any character can ever be better🥹???

— Especially as in a world of such prejudice Fleetfoot loves every person for who they are (including Archer; who she does not love; because who he is sucks🤣). — She doesn't care that Dorian has magic she stays with him until Celaena can come back, she follows Celaena into the woods on the 10 year marker of "Aelin's dark day" just to sit with her. — She also defends Celaena from the monster even while injured herself she wouldn't let them hurt her person.

She was the outcast of the litter, the "underdog" and became the bravest hulking wolf of them all.

Fleetfoot serves as the “save the cat” for both Celaena in showing her disgust at the idea of calling a dog a burden to be rid of because of a shy temper and at not liking humans after they stole it from its mother (which also speaks a lot to her, as if Fleetfoot is her Abraxos style “spirit animal”) while showing even the Assassin has moral lines. While also giving Dorian the chance to “save the cat” or in this case the dog. She even heavily serves as a plot telling device such as recognizing Nehemia from beyond the veil. More than that she becomes a beloved by all character… as you can see by this very dramatic explanation. Also I’m just a sucker for dogs & golden retrievers😂

Otherwise (sry this is gonna ramble😂): if ya want more

+ I’d love to hear yours if you want to share: so, who are your favs/fav?😃

I really want to learn more about Aedion because his relationship to Celaena thus far in HoF heavily reminds me of my siblings (and normally makes me cry because of it). I want Celaena to come to know that kind of love, and I already love Aedion for it.

Dorian really astounds me in his character — I mean that word literally & in phrase — he is a good man, he consistently shows it, and I give him props for being such a healthy emotional male character in a YA series.

Of course I have to mention our main gal Celaena / Aelin; there’s a lot to love. First I’d say the tropes she breaks (reminding me of a Nesta/Feyre mix of leading female perspective book traits) which I really appreciate. — She is tough, she is a warrior, she is not a damsel; she also loves makeup, and fancy dresses, and wishes to dance; she can be entranced by the romantic fantasy of just being normal. She is not equated to her love interests alone but she does love many and remains quite a loveable character within her resilience; as most of them come to say & bring to further light as well. She is fiery in all she does, there is something beautifully magically brave & empowering in that.

Sam Cortland will always get a shoutout because I will always love him.

Chaol used to be on this list and still isn’t off it but it’s complicated; I can say though I wish he didn’t take pieces of what he dreams people to be and try to make them fit that mold, he does apologize from it come to recognize it learn and try to do better. I genuinely believe he loves Dorian and Celaena (which doesn’t fix everything but does mean something); that he is a good man who just wants to do the right thing; he’s still a young kid. And so, he hasn’t lost me yet.

Rowan has entered where he will stay in the list of favs forever & ever “to whatever end”.

Emrys right now (& probably always) has my heart; I love a good loving character who makes everyone soup and tells stories. Give me a Hagrid, Chiron, kinda character any day. One that makes them feel at home; strangers, friends, foes, legends alike. Calls them out when they’re an idiot, and welcomes them with open arms after every exhausting day… He’s just good and kind.

And after a recent HoF chapter (some might say THE HoF chapter) Lady Marion deserves a mention & round of applause; mad respect, absolute adoration; the true hero; a mothers love. The way it made me cry at the love of a mother, the way I love my littles, etc.

P.S. for ACOTAR it’s probably Feyre, Nesta, Gwyn, Rhys, Azriel… also the house if it counts? lol 😂

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dearsnow · 2 years

Text

THE BROKEN AND THE BASTARD

- you find your fate, your love, your stars outside of the feast thrown in honor of your family. (jon snow x fem!lannister!reader, small hurt + fluff, THE FIRST STEP IN THE RELATIONSHIP OMG), part of the standstill collection

word count: 1,167

STANDSTILL: The arrival of the Lannisters and Baratheons in Winterfell has caused the world to quiet for just a moment- a moment long enough to last lifetimes.

a/n - !!!!!!!!!! IT HAPPENED!!!! more to come with this series :) also the link on “standstill” takes you to the masterlist if you want to read the other parts + context for this

You feel horribly out of place among the rest of your family. Your father has given you solace in moments like these, in that you shouldn’t let the whispers of others define your abilities. How you shouldn’t give them ammo, but instead carry your definition as a shield. His advice can’t protect you from everything, though; it surely can’t protect you from yourself.

Swarms of thoughts fill your head, none of them good. This party, this feast, you need to leave. You’re not welcomed. You don’t belong. They’re all staring at you, all of them. You can’t escape it. You love your father, but you will always be his. His mistake. Your grandfather’s greatest disappointment. Leave, now.

You rise from your seat and slip out the door. No one seems to notice your absence.

It’s outside in the bitingly cold air you find Jon. He has his sword in hand, swinging furiously at the poor straw dummy that holds everything he could ever hate. He’s dressed plainly, as you’re wishing you were. The thin sleeves of your fancy dress do nothing to stop the nipping of the wind.

Music wafts from inside the castle, all but eating the sound of your footsteps. You stand quietly for a moment. Observing. Watching as he finally notices you and leaves his sword.

“You should be inside. The feast is for your family, after all.” He rasps. His eyebrows are furrowed in what you can only imagine is the frustration of not belonging. It’s a feeling you know well.

“I’m not meant to be in there,” you whisper. “And I noticed you were missing. So I came to find you.”

He shakes a few early snowflakes out of his hair. “There’s enough guards in there. You would be safe.”

“It’s not my safety I worry about. It’s how they look at me. Like I’m but a peasant child serving cups to the small council.” Your voice strains. It’s horrible, how their eyes pierce you as though you did something wrong by simply existing. “I’m the imp’s poor daughter. That’s all they’ll ever see. I decided that not being there at all is better than being a jester, serving the purpose of a joke to be told then passed over.”

He nods. He can feel his heart ache as you describe his own experiences; being stared at and brushed aside, like your parents are all anyone could ever think of you as. There is nothing he wouldn’t do to be seen, truly seen. Seen as a Stark, a good man, worthy of something. Anything.

“I’m not allowed in the feasts. The most I can do is sit in the corner with a plate as I watch them eat, watch them talk, watch them do everything I wish I could. In the parties I’m allowed, I get the stares as well.”

The dark night does nothing to hide the storms of sadness etching themselves in your slight frown. You can see the familiarity in his eyes. Of course. He’s a bastard, and you’re the broken Lannister. Your life story must surely hit close to home. You’re so similar yet so different.

Stars twinkle overhead. Coldly, at first, though their light slowly warms your spirit. If you look closely, there’s something written in each one; the secrets of the universe, laid out for everyone to see. All you need to do is tip your head up and read.

The open air is nice, Jon thinks. There’s nothing but opportunities in the sky above. He takes one for his own.

A warm hand places itself on your hip, and you look down. Suddenly, you see. You know. You can feel the innermost workings of the man in front of you, clear as a sunny day. You put your hand on his shoulder, and you know he sees you too. You thank the stars for your sight, for letting you into the heart of someone you’re sure despised you just a month ago. They’ve given you more than you could ever ask for.

The music, muffled only slightly from the castle walls, carries you. You sway slightly to the rhythm, letting him guide your steps. There’s a small smile on his face, and your lips follow suit. The music picks up, and so do your movements.

You’re breathless, spinning and laughing and sometimes stepping on his feet, though he doesn’t seem to care. The ground beneath you flashes by in a whirl of browns and grays before you feel a hand resting on your cheek.

“Can I?” He asks, his dark eyes saying everything he cannot. His hands suddenly feel very heavy on your skin.

You nod. Sparks fly from the stars, twisting and turning your fate as he gently leans in. As his lips brush yours, everything feels right. His stubble against your chin, his hand cupping the back of your head, and yours wrapped around his shoulders- the cold wind itself can’t cool the heat working it’s way across your cheeks.

You break apart after a long moment, though in your mind it was far too short. He stares at you for a moment, his face a map of warring emotions. You stare back.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” You question, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind his ear.

He hesitates. “I’m just your guard. I may come from a noble family, but I’m…” he trails off before seemingly coming to terms with what he’s about to say. “I’m the Stark’s bastard. You shouldn’t be with someone like me.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll love you from today ‘til the moment you leave for the Wall, probably far after that as well. Any dwarf is a bastard in his father’s eyes, and from what I’ve seen, it carries on to his child as well. We’ll be the broken and the bastard.”

There’s a moment of silence as he takes in your words. “I can’t do that to you.”

“Oh, but you already have.” You smile, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He pulls his hand away from your face to touch his own, running his fingers over where your lips were. “I’ve fallen. Are you going to pick me up or not?”

He looks up to the sky, undoubtedly searching the stars for the answers of the universe. He seems to find what he’s looking for.

He scoops you up like your weight is but a feather on the back of an eagle, spinning just a bit to the music still playing in the background.

“Of course, my lady. I can’t just leave you, can I?”

“You absolutely cannot.” You sigh, sinking into his arms. The moon watches as he sets you down and you get to work braiding his hair and telling him all about the secrets of your stars, and he oh-so quietly tells you his. It smiles, content in it’s place. There is nothing greater, it decides, than the love of two comets paving the path to something better.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Taglist (comment to join): @peaked-in-third-grade @hueanhdang

#standstill ; jon snow ❄️#solar eclipse.#asoiaf #jon snow x reader #jon snow #jon snow fanfic #jon snow imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones fluff #got x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fic #a song of ice and fire #x reader #reader insert

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sashi-ya · 2 years

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Hello sashi! Can I request a shinigami!doflamingo,with a reader that's afab gender neutral. I don't mind the kinks xD Meido or Hell? (idk about japanese Lore?? Sorry)

And the prompt can be purgatory? xD if not I don't mind this too whatever you think it suits better to Doffy!

Congrats in the event!

Hola!!! So, since I know I owe you a Doffy fic (cause I just remembered I never posted the previous one for the Royals event) here I bring you a new more sinful one! I hope you enjoy!! Thank u so much for your support, babe! 💜

𝑵𝒔𝒇𝒘 ~ 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒊! 𝑫𝒐𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒙𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒐 𝒙 𝑮𝒏! 𝑨𝒇𝒂𝒃! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ~ 𝑬𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍

➡ Tw: nsfw. Doffy is some kind of shinigami. shibari. overstimulation. punishment. oral. fucking in a dark void where reader is only able to feel but not to see. size kink. fingering. "knife" play (his threads are sharp). imo is kinda dark, my mental image was reader to be tied like crucified, but you can skip that. ➡ Prompt: Purgatory; chose your punishment, eternal pain, or eternal pleasure? ➡ wc: 1.3k ➡ Want more? visit the masterlist

There is a certain Shinigami, that not even Death sometimes can control. He is in charge of reaping the souls of those who deserve Hell.

He wears glasses, and it’s fancy enough to say that he doesn’t care about his uniform. This Shinigami does not have a typical scythe, he uses his fingers. And those fingers are skilful enough to create the sharp edge of a sickle which takes away the souls of sinners.

But who is he to punish the sinners? Doflamingo is a sinner too…The worst of all.

And there was also a sinner, a sinner that had to decide which punish to choose. There isn’t many times when Doflamingo gives this opportunity to mortals, but you were the one to experience his devilishly smirk while asking you so…

“So, you little mortal… welcome to the purgatory, where you will have the privilege to choose your punishment… just cause you look really tasty” he says, while you kneel in front of him. Nothing but the warm dim lights of candles glow up the place. Around is pretty dark, and it feels as if you were over a platform of rocks surrounded by pure void around.

You look at his blonde hair, and those glasses covering his eyes. How is he able to see in such a dark place with those? Perhaps he doesn’t need his eyes to do so.

He is undeniably sexy, but, is it the place for you to still succumb to lust? You are here in the first place because of it, because of being hungry, because of wanting pleasure… is that so bad? Why is it a sin?

You swallow, and even if you are not sure of being allowed to talk, you do, nonetheless. “What should be my options?” you ask, closing your eyes as you see his fingers wiggling in a special way.

“Your options… Mmh? Well, you have to chose in between eternal pain, or, eternal pleasure… But, I must warn you, everything has its consequences… that’s what both are called punishments”

Both options being named with that low but sexy voice sounds as enticing as dangerous, and, even if the most logical path would be to choose the worst of all because he has just warned you that everything has its consequences you don’t falter…

“Eternal pleasure”

A big grin gets plastered on the huge Shinigami’s face. He is pretty tall, and not only is he tall, but also looks well trained and strong. His tongue is as huge as the rest of his anatomy. He gloats at your sudden decision; probably sure you were choosing that one. Sure, and happy, happy that you decided to go that route with him.

“Then it’s done, you have chosen to eternally pleasure me. You will be my slave, you will be my hole, the body I will use until I’m satisfied for all of this eternity of a life” he says, now letting you know why he warned you… “everything has consequences”

As soon as he finishes his speech, his big fingers tangle around your hair. He pulls you up from your kneeling position and pushes you back into the dark abyss.

You begin to fall back, feeling nothing around you but the gravity’s weight pushing your existence into an infinite nothingness. You close your eyes, it’s ok, after all you must be in hell, this should be part of your punishment.

Suddenly you stop falling, your body can’t move. Strings around you hold you tight, like an insect into a spider’s web, like a puppet moved by a puppeteer. “Are you scared, (Name)?” that man asks, knowing your name but you are still ignorant of his.

“I am….not” you whisper, still in pure darkness. You are not really scared, but curious at this point. “What’s your name, sir?”.

“That, you will discover soon little mortal”

The ties around your body begin to squeeze your flesh, and so much they do that they feel like cutting. Sharpest, finest objects that carve marks over your now ragged clothes.

In plain darkness you also suddenly feel his presence around you. His laugh, perverse but sexy reverberating in your ear, his warm breathe caressing your neck. Hands that touch you up and down, how many are they? How comes there are more than two?

“Are you ready for an eternity of pleasure, mh?” he whispers, and licks your neck up and down. “Hmm… yes, sir” you moan, covered in goosebumps.

The ties around your ankles pull in the contrary direction, spreading your legs efficiently and violently. You are not sure in which exact position you are now, since it’s like you were floating in the absence of light, but you don’t care. Probably dimensions are non-existent in Hell.

Engulfed by nothingness, you can only feel. You can’t see, but you can hear, you can smell, and you can taste. You squirm under his unexpected touch over your sex. He laughs, laughs, and laughs. This unknown Shinigami is having the time of his life, playing with the surprise effects of you not knowing what his next step will be.

“Wet… I want you more wet” he mumbles, now sticking his fingers inside you. He uses beckoning motions, violent, also crushing your neck with his free hand. Carotids being pressed, blood flow interrupted to your brain. Dizziness, and faintness mixed with explosive sensations on your lower belly.

Your back arches, and even if it isn’t resting against anything you feel like gripping your hands to almost lightweight silky sheets around you. Moans and whines your lips let out echo all around oblivion, your moans, and his sexy laughter. You can, however, despite not being able to see, imagine his grin close to your lips.

Of course, there is not much your body is able to resist, you are sure you are having more than two fingers going in and out of you, stretching you out. But, of course, this demon of a Shinigami isn’t satisfied with that simply stretch. He wants you to scream, to plead for more.

He suddenly stops, kisses now cover your skin. Wet kisses over the neck, that go up until your mouth. His teeth trapping your lower lip, pulling. You simply wish you were able to touch him, but you simply can’t. Your hands are tied, almost like crucified.

“Don’t fight to hard nor move, or you may end up cut… these strings are sharp, these are able to cut the chain of your soul… I don’t want you to bury you in hell before I give your proper punishment…” he suggest, as you feel the honed strand against your chest. It burns, but his tongue palliates the pain as he licks over your breasts.

The smell of iron reaches your nose, you are sure you have been at least cut by one of them, but you don’t care as his fingers have never stopped masturbating you and climax takes over your body.

This nameless punisher swallows the cries of pleasure of your body orgasming, but not for so long, since his mouth moves right where you thought you weren’t to take much more.

Wet tongue that now lands on your throbbing anatomy devours your orgasming spasms, giving you more, more and more. Body that feels like bursting from the inside out, overstimulating, prolongating an orgasm to the point of almost loosing consciousness. And you keep going, feeling your muscles tense, your bones on the verge of breaking, almost losing your mind…

Not enough, is not enough. Eternal? Eternal pleasure?

Yes, eternal… that’s the catch…

A never stopping orgasm, and the intrusion of his sex into yours. You were not ready; you feel like you expand even if you were sure you couldn’t do it. You feel your walls on the verge of snapping, but the pleasure is so big, so endless. So eternal.

“You wanna know my name?” he says, in between pants as he thrusts into you, and you can feel your belly growing as he goes deeper. “Y-yes…”

“Doflamingo is my name, welcome to your punish, the eternal pleasure… a never-ending climax… now, take my cum on and on and on…”

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magicalyaku · 4 months

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Hello and welcome to another reading year! Following the devastation Dark Heir cause in my heart at the end of 2023, I didn't really feel like reading much for about two weeks. I did catch up on a few manga series, most notably 8 volumes of Yona of the Dawn by Mizuho Kusanagi. While it's still very good, I think binge reading helped quite a bit to keep me invested. :'D After that, I read one book that will definitely go into my worst books of 2024. Refer to the later half of the post if you want to know more. Let's focus on the good ones first!

Cursebreakers (Madeleine Nakamura): This one was really good! I was positively surprised. The world is magical, not medieval but futuristic! The story around the conspiracy is interesting and intense and the main characters are difficult people that might be hard to like in real life but they complement each other so well and it's so nice to see their relationship grow (no love story here!). I also really liked the way it is told. The protagonist has bipolar disorder which is a huge factor in the story but he recounts the story from a later perspective, so rather than being right in the moment with every dramatic and sometimes questionable decision we get a little bit of distance and insight into his actions and thoughts which works really well.

Twelve Bones (Sixteen Souls 2) (Rosie Talbot): The first volume was a already a little dark but all the bad stuff involved a limited circle of people (most of them ghosts), this one takes a full dive into the swooping dark threatening the entire city, living and dead! The stakes, my dear. Ugh! Based on that I wouldn't call it fun ... would I? I liked reading it, though! The cast of characters is really endearing. The story is good. The struggle felt warranted. The ending is kinda mangaesque but I like manga, so I don't mind. xD I wonder if there'll be a third volume. If not, I'll look forward to the author's next work. :)

The Necromancer's Light (Radiance 1) (Tavia Lark): I picked up the set of the trilogy which has a much better cover than the indivual books. :'D This one is very simple and straightforward, it's cute. The characters are likable. The hurt/comfort in here is indeed comforting. I think I like the first part with the pining best. This story's animal is a horse! (I read half of the auther's Perilous Courts series and there's friendly animals in every volume there as well. Nice touch.)

And now for the first book of 2024 I did not like. Heir to Thorn and Flame (Court of Broken Bonds 1) (Ben Alderson): I read the author's self-published Darkmourn series last summer and quite liked it despite its issues with the writing. Now this one has a tradtional publisher so I wanted to know if that made any difference. On a whole, the writing feels a little bit smoother than Darkmourn. But it's still long, repetetive, and tries to hard to sound fancy by exaggerating a lot. The premise of the story isn't even that bad. Boy finds out he has magic, accidentely kills the prince, has to take his place and political stuff occurs with two countries on the cusp of war over him and his magic. The first thing that annoyed me: The story feels unnecessarily cruel. It literally starts out with attempted rape which is already the second time protagonist Maxiumus is assaulted in his life. People are killed right in front of him, he is forced to shoot someone he cares for. People violently dig through his memories and still don't believe his story afterwards. And the villains are just caricatures. They have the balding hair, yellowed teeth, bony fingers, stinky breath, and leering eyes. They're ugly and evil! It was so over the top that I couldn't care at all. The other characters have nothing going on for them either. I don't like Maximus at all. He's whiny and indecisive and only worries about his parents. He does have that superstrong magic he uses to rip people apart when he's angry, wow. He also has two love interests and I don't see the chemistry with either of them (I suppose it tries to be Slow Burn but not very good). But they're so good-looking, the strong arms and nice smell, so tall! (eyeroll) The second one of these guys is named Simion. He's the only one remotely nice to him in the beginning, so Maximus likes him. Then he hates him. Then he likes him, then Simion reveals stuff and Maximus hates him again (even though he's just the messenger). But then he's suddenly attracted to him again to the point they even kiss … but oh no, Maximus can't kiss anyone, because he is married to the other guy by magic (against his will)!! And everyone treats it as this big thing "oh old magic you are bound to each other now for life" etc, but nobody explains what the handfastening (as they call it) even does for 80% of the book! Until Maximus kisses Simion and the magic causes him pain because he's cheating!!

Here my mind went on a tangent. The magic seems to have a conscious in this story, alright, but I want to know it's moral values then. Does it only detect kisses and sex? Physical acts? Can it differentiate between consensual und non-consensual? Who is doing the touching? Does is only clock sexual attraction or romantic attraction as well? What if he has a crush and never acts on it? Would it still cause him permament pain? What's with platonical kisses? Now you ask, do we have to explain all of this in a book like this? No, we don't (there's also two sequels), but I sure hope the author thought about it when he introduced a complex thing like this. Oh, also Simion forces his way into Maximus's mind via telepathy several times. Such a nice way to get to know each other. And speaking of the morality of the magic, it counts how many people are killed with it. On the wand. As tally marks. How does it know? Why does it only count humans, not animals? Why does it care?

Two more things I found annoying (there's more, but this is long enough already): First, the parents. Everything happening in the story hinges on their whereabouts, it's back and forth and very tiring. The Red King has them so Maximus has to stay with him, then the Blue Prince has them, then they get kidnapped so Maximus follows, then it turns out they've never been kidnapped and the Blue Prince kept them all along! In between he freaks out over his father not being his father and when they're reunited, but before they can talk, the father dies. Yay. Tragic. Not. The same thing happened before already. The one lady Maximus was forced to kill? She survived! She was saved and he goes to meet her, they talk for 30 seconds and then she's eaten by a dragon. :D I was pissed for wasting my time.

Which is a sentiment I kind of share about the whole book, but also not. It made me angry but sometimes it's good to have an outlet for the rage. :'D

#yaku reads #january wrap up #books #queer books #queer lit #lgbtq books #bookblr #cursebreakers #twelve bones #heir to thorn and flame #the necromancer's light #tumblr kept telling me it couldn't save my post because I made my paragraphs too long ...?#you're weird sir

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birdwatching-goesbothways · 1 year

Text

Tuesday

The knock rings jarringly through the silence, and Jim feels increasingly uncomfortable.

His eyes wander from the door in front of him (heavy, wooden, sturdy like it was made to keep someone out - or in) to the mansion looming above him with a threatening aura. The dark windows look like eyes, watching him, full of judgement.

Then again, that part is probably just his subconscious scolding him for his most recent questionable decision, using his over-reactive imagination to properly get the message across.

He’s been to Penguins mansion often enough, and never felt watched by anything other than the hosts surprisingly sharp eyes.

The door in front of him opens a crack, before swinging open fully, revealing one of Oswald’s goons, beckoning him inside wordlessly.

As always. It’s an unspoken show of trust, of commitment from the kingpins side. That Jim is always welcome to come see him, no matter the time of day. No matter that he might be busy, because he will simply make time for his favourite detective.

Jim would be lying if he said it didn’t give him a little power rush every time.

Today though, it does nothing to alleviate his anxiety.

As always Oswald’s eyes light up when he spots him. The goon he had been talking to is quickly ushered away.

“Jim! How nice to see you!“

It would be so easy to simply let himself be lured into friendly conversation.

Which is exactly why he ignores the pleasantries, lest he lose his courage to do what he came here for.

It’s not like Oswald isn’t used to his rudeness by now.

“I need a favour.”

Oswald’s smile dims considerably, and Jim tries his best to ignore the fresh stab of guilt.

“Oh? Do tell me which case has managed to catch your fancy this time!”

This is where he starts to sweat.

“Can’t tell you. It’s a delicate case.”

“Well,” Oswald replies, clearly annoyed now, “I can hardly help if you won’t tell me what brought you to my doorstep in the first place. What do you even want me to do?”

“Come with me.”

“As much as I’d love to come running even though you refuse to tell me what it even is about, I’m terribly busy at the moment. So, regretfully, I’ll have to refuse.”

Of all the times for Oswald to deny indulging him, now is a terrible moment.

“It’s very important.”

“So are my plans. You can’t just barge in here and expect me to drop everything.”

“Please, Oswald.” Please.

“What’s in it for me?”

Relief washes over Jim like a tidal wave. Bargaining means that he’ll at least consider it.

“Anything you want.”

Unwise to offer a blank check, but he already owes the man too many favours for it to matter much anymore.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” ***************

The vacant house Jim has chosen for their ‘stakeout’ is mostly empty. No furniture either, which makes it look bare and naked.

It’s as empty as the warehouse on the other side of the street, in which not even a single suspicious looking figure is lurking.

Dammit. Leave it to him to find the only non-suspicious warehouse in all of Gotham.

Either way, he keeps throwing glances out the window, keeping up appearances regarding his reason of being here.

Strangely enough, Oswald hasn’t yet asked for a real explanation as to what exactly they are doing here.

Which is both strange and very helpful, since he has none.

Hoping to keep this up by distracting the disgruntled kingpin, he does his best to start up a conversation.

“So, uhm. How are you?“

Great. He’s never been especially good at small talk, but it seems that today he’s hit a special kind of low.

Oswald, ever polite despite the mischievous glint of amusement in his eyes, decides to indulge him anyway.

“I’m good, thank thank you. How about you? I hope you haven’t been too swamped with work?”

“It’s fine,” Jim answers, before remembering he should be very stressed out indeed, if he went to Oswald for help with a case.

“Uh, I mean. That’s just how work is, right?”

Truly, a silver tongue.

Oswald giggles, and the sound calms his racing heart a bit.

“God Jim, not that I don’t appreciate your efforts to appear more civil through some small talk, but please don’t start telling me about the weather.”

“Sorry,” Jim replies a bit sheepishly, before remembering something else that might work.

“I brought snacks?”

They both sit down on the old carpet, Oswald a bit inelegantly, although neither of them mentions it.

Either way, Jim wishes he had thought to choose a place with chairs - this can’t be especially good for Oswald’s bad knee.

“Here, choose a sandwich. I have one with cheese and salad, and one with tuna.”

Oswald snatches the one with tuna after only a moment of consideration, making Jim smile.

So he likes tuna, huh? Good to know.

Not that that information would ever be useful, but he files the information for later anyway.

Oswald, after taking a first hesitant bite, looks at him in shock.

“Jim, did you make these yourself?“

“Wow, are they that bad? I figured you wouldn’t like the store bought stuff, so I…”

“On the contrary!” Oswald exclaims, seeming excited, “it’s really good! I didn’t think you were capable of making edible food.”

“Whoa, harsh,” he replies, nonetheless smiling at the hidden compliment.

“Harvey must appreciate your sandwich making skills on your stakeouts…”

“I don’t really-, I mean. We mostly eat hotdogs.”

Oswald’s satisfied smile tells him that his accidental admission hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Yes he’d thought about this, yes, he’d put in more effort than he likes to admit. Oswald hadn’t been supposed to know. But if there’s one thing Oswald is good at, it’s finding out things other people don’t want him to.

It’s part of the reason why he is so so good at what he does, and also the reason he is so useful to Jim.

Conversation does manage to come a bit easier after the offering of food, as Jim notices once again how easy it is to become enthralled by Oswald Cobblepot.

After half an hour, the realisation hits him that he has neglected to ‘watch’ the warehouse entirely now, and Oswald has yet to call him out for it.

It would make him more suspicious, if the man weren’t smiling openly and breaking into surprised laughter at his latest stupid story.

“..he really said that?”

“He did!“ Jim replies, glad that he managed to amuse the smaller man with his partner’s silly antics.

And it’s just very nice to see Oswald so seemingly carefree, to see him genuinely smile and giggle, even throwing in a few jokes himself.

It makes him happy. Makes him want to witness more of it.

Another feeling it inspires in him is guilt. Deep, bone-crushing guilt.

Because of course none of this is real, their happiness running on borrowed time. Obviously he lured Oswald here with ulterior motives. None that are too bad in the grand scheme of things, but ulterior motives all the same.

There’s a weapons deal going down today. A big one. One that he deeply suspects Oswald plays a substantial part in, and would ideally like to oversee personally to make sure everything is running smoothly.

He knows this, because there is a long planned operation to take place today in order to bust it and arrest everyone present, especially Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. Because if he were to be captured there, amidst the tons of illegal weapons as evidence, it would likely be enough to lock him up for life. In Blackgate, or perhaps even Arkham, which is worse still.

Theoretically, he should not have known about the operation at all. Because it hadn’t been his in the first place. He thanks god it isn’t because this would not have been a possibility then. But Harvey had pulled him aside one day, telling him. How he had known about it in the first place, who’s to say.

Either way, he is thankful.

Because he cannot, just cannot bear to see Oswald in jail. Unable to help, having to sit idly and watch him suffer, entirely powerless. Not again.

So he ever so selfishly decided to make sure Oswald would be otherwise occupied on this fateful day.

Stabbing his fellow officers and his own beliefs in the back by making sure they wouldn’t be able to convict a known criminal and murderer.

He’d thought about it. Thought long and hard, in those sleepless hours of the night, trying to come up with a solution. Trying to discourage himself from interfering at all. Trying to reason that it would be far better if Oswald was safely locked away, sparing so many people from his wrath and power-hungry plans.

He’d decided to watch, to stand by as events unfolded on their own. After all, how was it his fault when Oswald went and got himself arrested? It wouldn’t even be him to do it, but some other officer. His hands would be clean.

Much better this way.

And yet, when the day had come, he had found himself getting up, preparing things, and heading to Oswald’s residence, ready to do whatever it took for Oswald to come with him.

Prepared to lie, scream, beg, or fight off all of the man’s goons and pull him along by pure strength. Thankfully it hadn’t come to that.

How pathetic and selfish he was.

But if it comes down to it, he’d rather live with that guilt, another tarnish on his soul, than see Oswald locked up again.

It’s a greedy decision. Entirely self-serving.

It’s beneficial to Oswald, sure, but he isn’t sure that will outweigh the mans distaste at being lied to and manipulated.

There will probably even be suspicion that Jim had been part of the plan, distracting him so that the strike-force could hit his organisation at its most vulnerable.

But Jim is willing to take the blame. Even hopes that that is the conclusion Oswald will come to, because it would be worlds easier than explaining his actual reason.

Which he himself can’t entirely explain.

He wouldn’t blame Oswald either. It would be the more logical conclusion, more in tune with their past actions.

He is willing to be the target of Oswald’s wrath. Is maybe one of the few people who can confidently risk that, without having to fear ending up dead or missing by daybreak.

It’s a special privilege granted to him for no conceivable reason.

Asking for a reason isn’t exactly a priority on his to-do list though. Or on it at all.

If you have as many enemies as Jim Gordon, and live in a city like Gotham, looking a gift horse in its mouth is not a wise decision.

Live and let live. And if you are incapable of that, destined by nature to tear down everything in your vicinity, be glad for whoever lets you live anyway.

It would be easier not to feel guilty about going behind Oswald’s back if he didn’t seem so innocent in his joy right now.

And if this entire thing didn’t feel so much like a goddamn date.

Suddenly he is terrified that that is exactly what Oswald thinks it is. What other reason could he have to drag Oswald out here, when it’s so obviously not for a case?

Oh god. And Oswald let himself be dragged here anyway. Despite having very important other business, as Jim knows damn well.

Isn’t complaining while he is sitting on this dirty floor with him (damnit, he should have brought a chair or something, what about Oswald’s knee?) and isn’t complaining about the objectivity mediocre sandwiches either.

He seems like he’s.. enjoying this. Enjoying spending time with him. Talking, joking, complaining about their life, stealing glances when each of them think the other isn’t looking.

Suddenly, another thought. Does he want this to be a date? Does he?

He imagines it for a moment, and finds that the idea is not entirely off-putting. Is, perhaps, filling him with a sudden rush of warmth and panic.

Yes, he wants this to be a date. Even prepared nice food (as nice as he is capable of) and, in hindsight, dressed with slightly more care than usual.

Fuck.

’Too bad I probably blew whatever chance I had by pulling this little stunt.’

Oswald hardly seems like someone who is a fan of being lied to, manipulated and having his trust abused.

It works out in the crime bosses favour in this particular instance, sure, but it’ll probably seem entirely different from his perspective. Might still destroy whatever fragile trust there is between them right now.

“Fun as this has been, I must go now,” Oswald says, disturbing his racing thoughts of panic.

“I would love to repeat this little ’stakeout’ though, what do you think?”

The amusement is clear in Oswald’s voice, hardening Jim’s suspicion that the clever man has long been aware that the obscure reason Jim has dragged him here for is nothing but a cheap trick.

Trying to ignore his suddenly dry mouth, Jim offers: “Perhaps you should wait a few hours to make that offer, to see if you still want it by then.”

After all, if he doesn’t at least hint at the truth now, if he just keeps pretending like everything is fine, the betrayal will become more unforgivable later on.

The panic must have shown on his face, because Oswald laughs out loud. Openly laughs at him, and does so even more when he notices his confused expression.

“Oh James, I’m so sorry. I thought you realised by now.”

“Realised what?” He answers, trying not to let hope bloom in his chest.

“You really think I didn’t know about the GCPD‘s little plan? That I would be caught blind this easily? Oh dear.”

Leaning over in another fit of giggles at Jim’s bamboozled expression, Oswald seems to be having a field day.

“So you really did want to protect me with this little stunt? That is so sweet.”

There is a lot of things Jim wants to say, but words seem to evade him right now.

“Of course I suspected, but… I did not think you would care.”

“I..” Jim answers, still battling deep confusion. “w-what?”

Oswald reaches out, laying his hand on his shoulder, burning him. Levelling him with a stern stare, suddenly serious once again.

“I knew, Jim. I knew about the operation, and I was prepared, as your colleagues will soon be able to tell you. But I went along with this entire thing anyway, because I was curious about your motives. You did not disappoint me.”

Of all the things Oswald said, the last one keeps repeating in his mind like a broken record.

You did not disappoint me, you did not disappoint me, you-

“I.. didn’t?”

Oswald’s stern expression melts into one of warmth, of happiness. For some unconceivable reason, it conjures the thought of honey. It makes Jim want to lean in and taste those lips, to find out whether they taste as sweet as they seem.

Makes him want to drown in those warm pools of ice currently fixed at him, staring into his soul.

“You didn’t, quite the opposite actually. I thank you, James. For caring. For doing your best to protect me, in your own way. This kindness will not be forgotten.”

“It’s fine,” he croaks out, trying to keep the redness from his face. “I’m just glad you’re…” safe. Not angry at me. So irresistibly smart. “…okay.”

“Of course I am, silly.”

“Well then,” Oswald adds, trying to get up, an endeavour Jim immediately jumps to his feet to help him with, “I really do need to get going. Until next time?”

Is that hope in his voice? Or just his usual detached politeness?

“Sure.”

“Splendid! Although perhaps a different location would be more suitable. I was thinking a café perhaps, if you please. Are you free on Tuesday next week?”

“Uhm,” Jim replies, caught off-guard by this sudden turn of events. “I guess so?” To tell the truth, even if he wasn’t free, he would probably just take the time anyway. He devotes so much of his time to this city, it simply has to survive without him for a few hours then and when.

“Wonderful, it’s settled then. I’ll contact you about the closer details.”

Oswald limps towards the door, turning around one last time to say: “By the way, it’s cute that you think you can successfully lie to me. You have a terrible pokerface my dear.” With those words, he leaves the room, leaving a baffled Jim in his wake.

Only after the other man has left, does the realisation hit him.

He has agreed to meet up with Oswald on tuesday. Tuesday next week. Tuesday the 14th of February.

Valentines day.

#gobblepot fanfic #gobblepot #gobblepotvalentine #this is kind of silly #my writing

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mage-and-the-tantrums · 2 years

Text

Midnight Blue

I had a few lines of code to write, so I took a chair and sat in front of the main door, just to escape the clamouring of my family. The little "beach house" is always brewing like a stew. There is never enough room for everyone, and being there means concessions about one's own privacy and time. Homes are tightly knit close to each other, so it is only natural to hear the clamour of neighbours as well. But I do not care. Being here feels like an escapade. Even though I am no longer keen on swimming as much as I was when a kid, I do appreciate the gentle sea breeze, the long walks on the beach, sitting on the sand and feast my eyes on the vast blue that goes beyond the horizon, while the sound of the gentle waves rocks me like a baby.

My coding session was unexpectedly productive, even though the setting was pretty basic and the steady flow of the conversation of my neighbours that I heard immaculately while they were having a late dinner. I was free. It was nighttime, everybody inside was already sleeping. As the official night owl of the family, I was always the last one to sleep, especially whenever we were on a summer vacation. At first it was the video games, and then, I had this tendency of overthinking myself to sleep. My eyes were always lit even when the kids around me start to power off, one after another.

I always loved strolling at night. The streets are calm and more welcoming, the sound of the crashing of the waves is not muffled with the high-pitched cries of babies and toddlers. It is always a nice time to sit there and appreciate the soothing sound of the waves, in the complete darkness of the night. You cannot see it but there is nothing more accurate than the fact that it is there. You can even feel it.

I can't take her off of my mind. It is too hard to actively think about something else, and not be absorbed by a hypothetical conversation in an imaginary space and time, of a distorted projection on the future that my mind is painting in all naivety. I know that poison now, and very well. I totally get the toxin that is hope, and I know that overflowing the situation with threads of my imagination could only be a recipe for deception, yet I just sit there, unable to pull the reigns of my mind, and stop. She might not come, she might not have meant it when she said she wanted to visit my country. She might not care about me romantically. She might not have thought of me as something more than a friend, probably ever. I know, I know, the waves scream at me, the stars wail, and my mind carries on.

I see us together, as in both present in the same space and time. I see that we are someplace fancy, not too formal though. I see food, laughter, and a lot of uncontrollable smiles. I see two souls connecting, and what looks like the start of something beautiful. I even think of what she says, and how should I reply. I build this wall, brick after brick after brick, disregarding any security measure, and not because I want to, but due to this mystical force that just does not care. This light current transfuses me of joy and hope, with a faint scent of the aroma of love. I know these toxins, I know how good they feel, and how bad they snatch from reality. How then the dose becomes insufficient, and the thirst taking over. I feel like an arsonist, listening to a lullaby, set to program me to torch my own self. Yet the promise of fire sounds so pleasing, and I fail to feel or see any of it as her eyes are the only thing I could perceive properly, clearly, her gaze like a needle piercing a thousand skies.

I choose to instead drown myself in my music, but everything screams her name. Everything is gasoline, making the fire of her dark silhouette more pronounced and discernible. Amid all of this, I realise that I am smiling, uncontrollably, for the idea of an eventual something with her, which is still very far, and very immature at this stage to talk about.

Careful with the words now, a word written down could never be taken back. Careful into lighting flares and throwing them in a road, that could turn out to be a dead end.

Why am I thinking about her all the time ? Why is it that even here, on the beach, where I am supposed to think of nothing, she is at the centre of my brain, staring at me coldly, waiting for something, waiting to be either followed or led. I do not know which and I do not know to where. Why is it that after all of these years, she is closer more than ever, yet we are in opposite sides of the Mediterranean ? More importantly, why am I feeling this down, yet at the same time full of life, full of light ? Why am I happy and sad at the same time ? Has she been thinking about me since we talked ? Did she mean what she said about making travel arrangements to be able to see each other again ? Written in the great blue void above me, and sent without any coordinates.

I realise that I spent too much time here on the little stone fence. I go back home to sleep, around 3 A.M . I was little bit tired so I figured I won't have a tough time falling asleep. Everyone was snoring, the night was a little bit hot, and the breeze stayed in the doorstep, now that the main door is closed.

I admitted after 30mn of unsuccessful attempts to fall asleep that this would be a tough night. She was still there, in my mind, sitting like a monk, comfortably waiting for my attention to cast a limelight on her. I read our messenger conversation, from the very start. It was not very long, but it was not brief either. It was so fun though, to appreciate the shades of humour we exchanged, and the mutual want of spending much more time together, when we used to live in the same town. When I reached our final conversation, the one that ignited all of my sparks, I read with extreme care and attention everything that was said. Afterwards, I was more convinced that I am not painting a delusion for myself to fall into. One could smell the flirtation from a mile.

I even tell mom about the whole thing first thing in the morning, after a sleepless night. It eats my brain that much. It burns through me that bad that I want to itch my walls from within. But it does so very slowly, very gently, in a manner that makes me giggle and smile, uncontrollably.

(1 / 2)

Come on inside, it's a long ride

'80s limousine

I'll be tongue-tied, you'll be cross-eyed

On the grainy screen

With a token appreciation

Amateur cigar

Steel-plated, silver-painted

Novelty guitar

For you, well

Isn't it good and isn't it shit?

They lured us away from the beach

And onto the cruise ship

I lied, I lied

And never grew

To be made a lonely child

The seven rules you need to know

In my mind

Some antiquated tune

In my heart some ancient song

A song too blue to even use

Metric - Seven Rules

#mage #spilled thoughts #poets on tumblr #writeblr #random thoughts #thoughts of a mage #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled words #crushes #i have a crush #relationships #writers thoughts #writers and readers #writing #writerscommunity #midnight #midnight blue

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hatsukoi-heartbeat · 2 years

Text

THE DRESS

Pairing: yollie (self-ship)

Word count: 2.5k

Key words: Christmas fluff

In which I try on the dress of my dreams and Syo hears wedding bells...

Originally posted on December 27, 2021

In the Winter afternoon, the sky is already dark with early nightfall. Against the perfect black backdrop, the hundreds of festive lights strung across the shopping street sparkle even brighter than the stars. From the window displays on either side, shops emit a welcoming light that promises a haven of warmth and Christmas tunes Syo knows Ellie never really gets tired of hearing. Not only does her happily humming along to the classics put him in a good mood but also the feeling of her hand in his own fills him with a sweet but tingly hot cocoa kind of warmth.

With his gaze on the shops on the other side of the street, Syo only notices that Ellie is no longer walking alongside him when the next step has him bouncing back on her hand. He turns to catch her staring at the nearest shopping window with an almost lovestruck look in her eyes.

It’s a flurry of blush pink that has grabbed her attention. A long dress with a bodice strung together by delicate lace and a gleaming satin skirt that pools at the mannequin’s feet in a modest train. An elegant ribbon on the back ties the different fabrics into one harmonious fashion piece that could elevate any garderobe to another, classier level. Syo has to admit that it’s a beautiful dress that would suit the girl beside him.

“Do you like that one?” Syo asks even though the question is a waste of breath. Ellie and the dress are just like the star-crossed lovers from last night’s movie with the only difference being that they’re torn apart by a shopping window rather than the entire galaxy. If the space ranger and alien princess could overcome that impossible feat, then surely this will be an easy obstacle to cross! Besides, never underestimate the power of love for a piece of clothing, Syo thinks to himself as he side-eyes the two chock-full bags in his hand.

“Huh? Did you say something?” Having awoken from her trance, Ellie slowly rips herself away from the storefront. The question in her eyes shows that she really was too absorbed in her awe to hear him.

"Yeah, I was just talking to that mannequin over there," Syo says with a playful roll of his eyes. Now a mission has settled in his head, he has no intention of leaving before accomplishing it. He nods towards the dress. “You should try it on if you like it. I think the colour would suit you really nicely.” It’s his signature colour, after all, and nothing pleases Syo more than to catch his own girlfriend gravitating to the pink side of the colour spectrum. “A long dress could be good for a change too, for, y’know, more formal occasions and stuff. Satin does add to that fancy feel.”

“I was looking for something new but… Nevermind. I’ll look somewhere else. It’s not like I can afford this one anyway… not until I’ve graduated.” She sighs in defeat but Syo isn’t ready to give up just yet. “I’d love to wear a dress like this someday. Even if it’s way out of my league. It’s the kind of dress only catwalk models do justice to.”

When Ellie casually brushes herself aside with a strained smile, a wave of pain wells up in his chest. “Don't sell yourself short! Seriously, it sounds like you’re looking for an excuse to not try it on. Your body is just as perfectly fine as those models', you know.” He scolds her and pokes his finger to her cheek. “C’mon, the shop people noticed us lingering out here so I’ve decided that you’re definitely gonna try it on. Besides… I wanna see how it looks on you too.”

With that, he turns away his head in an attempt to hide his blush and locks her hand inside of his, towing her along towards the boutique’s entrance. She weakly struggles against him going up the red-carpeted steps.

“No, no, wait, I really can’t afford it…! I don’t want to embarrass myself in a high-end fashion store of all places! Please don’t make me do this…” She pouts and begs by giving him her best puppy eyes but Syo knows that he can't give in to it for her sake. Not even when it's his biggest weakness.

“Ah, come on! What's embarrassing about wanting to try on a dress, anyway? Honestly, you worry-head... How about I take you out for coffee afterward? Sounds good?” He irons out her protests with a smooth offer.

"Are we going to our favourite spot…?” The promise of a warm drink to wash away the winter cold certainly caught her attention. “Hold on, are you trying to bribe me?"

"It's not bribing. Consider it a reward! A pretty awesome one on top of that, right?" With a grin, pulls her along, this time with more willingness from her side. “Now c’mon before everything starts closing up for the day!”

"Well… I can't say no to that.” Though her smile seems a bit unsure, Ellie curls her fingers around his hand. “Okay, let’s do this!"

With her hand grasping his in return, Syo is filled with a sense of strength that he could tackle anything that lies beyond this door.

At once, they're caught in the whirlwind of luxuriousness that the boutique exudes with its plush chairs and brilliant chandeliers that sparkle on the marble flooring. Ellie's mouth drops in amazement.

Syo, on the other hand, easily blends in like a chameleon and takes purposeful strides inside the store. He's no stranger to modeling for luxury brands the likes of the ones sold here, after all. “Excuse me? She’d like to try on that dress. Yes, the one in the shopping window.”

All at once, the shop staff is in motion, flocking around the two of them at the prospect of drawing in new customers.

“The fitting rooms are right over here.”

“... size, Miss?”

“36, 38, right?” Syo swoops in to her aid as Ellie is escorted to the fitting rooms. “A size 38 should be fine for a dress with a close-fitting bodice.”

“Yes, it has a rather small fitting so I’d recommend a size 38 as well.”

“Would you like to try on the faux fur coat that goes with it? They make a gorgeous duo for the festive season.”

"Um, that's okay… I think I'll start with the dress." As Ellie looks back at him helplessly while being ushered into a fitting room, Syo gives her his best smile in the hopes of boosting her courage a little bit. At the same time, he internally apologizes to her for handing her over to the ruthless shop assistants just like that. However, something tells him that the results will be absolutely worth the measures in her eyes.

When the curtains finally part again, Syo’s voice falters in his throat in the middle of chatting to an assistant about the upcoming spring fashion collection. Ellie peeks out, hesitantly, in a way that has Syo worried. Did the dress turn out to be not as pretty as it looked or, even worse, did it not suit her after all?

A shop assistant coaxes her outside: “You should show it to him.” Ellie’s gaze drifts over to him and Syo feels his cheeks heat up from being the sudden center of attention, despite being an idol who’s used to standing in the spotlights. Nonetheless, he smiles at her reassuringly.

Then, it takes all his strength to stop his jaw from dropping to his knees. Just like a fairytale princess, Syo thinks to himself in awe of his girlfriend adorned in delicate pink silk and lace. His heart is bouncing wildly in his chest like the ball in a pinball machine that’s hitting all the targets.

In ladylike fashion, Ellie lifts the trailing skirt off the floor as she walks towards him, eyes darting up from the floor to meet him with a bashful smile. Her face is a flustered shade of rosy pink but at the same time it radiates self-confidence. It suits her, Syo thinks with satisfaction.

It takes a moment for him to notice that there's a gentle ringing in his ears, similar to the joyful chime of... church bells? Even the previously unassuming ceiling lights are now casting a dreamy golden gleam over the venue, accentuating Ellie in front of him as if she’s an otherworldly vision. The staff’s approving chatter blends into the background until the volume is a mere rustle like the flap of dove wings. There’s only the sound of his heart beating loudly in his ears. It’s as if time slowed down for the world around them save for him and Ellie who’s sparkling like a precious rose quartz gem in the dress of her dreams. With bated breath, Syo watches her tread towards him, down the aisle where he’s waiting in his pristine white tux, his heart swelling with pride and unbridled love for his soon-to-be wi…

“So… What do you think?” Suddenly standing eye-to-eye with him, Ellie pulls him from his vision with a question and cute, princessy curtsy. “Do I look weird? You’ve been staring at me all quietly…”

Hastily, Syo locks away the snapshot of a future memory. It’s a precious and exciting promise of the life ahead of him with Ellie by his side, albeit a little flustering, but now is not the time to be daydreaming about their wedding day.

“I-I, uh, I guess… You look really pretty.” Beautiful. Enchanting. A handful of words come close but nothing seems to match the way he truly feels at this very moment. And yet only the blandest of compliments manage to get across his lips.

“Thank you!” Despite all the words left unsaid, Ellie smiles at him happily before lowering her voice. “Also for helping me go outside my comfort zone. Even if I can’t afford it now, I’m glad I could wear it just once. One day, I’ll be able to buy a dress like this for myself.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s what you got this awesome boyfriend for,” Syo boasts as a new idea to surprise her settles in his head.

“Truly!” Ellie giggles as she makes her way back to the fitting room with steps that seem to float.

Once she’s bundled up in her winter wear again and the cool night air blows away the remnant warmth of the inside conditioned air, Syo turns towards her on the steps outside.

“Shoot, I think I left my phone on the counter.” He exaggeratedly pats the pockets of his jacket. “I’ll be back in a sec!”

“Oh! Wait, but we weren’t anywhere near the counter…?”

Under Ellie’s inquiring gaze, Syo speeds inside again, pretending to not hear her. The truth is that he isn’t the best of liars but his little performance should be just enough to keep her outside for a bit. Right until he’s all set to give her his best and biggest not-quite Christmas present.

Ellie’s brewing suspicions must’ve reached their boiling point when Syo returns with a large bag that has the shop name printed on it in a curly font and an equally big grin plastered to his face.

“What’s in there? Did you buy anything?” Ellie asks, stunned.

“Oh this? Just a little something for my cute girlfriend,” Syo says nonchalantly as he lets her peek inside the bag.

With a gasp, Ellie drops the familiar pink satin back in the bag as if it singed her hand. “No way, that’s…! You can’t just-- Please return it right now!”

“What, did you stop liking it all of a sudden?” He fires back with raised eyebrows, challenging her to respond with a ‘yes’.

“No,” she admits, “but the price! It’s too much! Please return it.”

As a last resort, she grabs onto his arm in a silent, concerned plea. Yet it leaves Syo unfazed.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal for me. I work a full-time job, remember? A price tag means nothing to me.” He shrugs, then tentatively reaches out to touch her shoulder. “As long as I get to see you shine again like you did just now in that dress. You looked gorgeous while wearing it. I think I was starstruck because your smile was so dazzling. You were just so confident!”

“I… That’s so sweet of you to say…” Her cheeks steadily grow pink as his compliments go on and Syo wishes that he could blame his own furious blush on the chilly weather rather than his passionate gush. “Thank you so much!”

To his relief, it seems that she has accepted his gift. Though when tears start welling up in her eyes, the feeling melts into something softer. A gentle, affectionate love that translates into him extending his hand towards her head.

“Don’t start crying now… dummy.” Syo speaks in a sweet voice while stroking her hair. “You better wear it for me lots.”

Between a smile and a sniffle, she wipes the tears from her eyes. “I will! I’ll definitely wear it to the Christmas party.”

“Heh, that’s good. I’m looking forward to it. I wanna see more of this princess I saw before.” Syo pulls her close against his chest, feeling absolutely endeared by the happy tears she’s shedding about his gift. Maybe it’s the mushy Christmas ballad in the background adding to his emotions but, at this rate, he feels like he’ll start choking up soon too.

“Gosh, I keep tearing up. Sorry, sorry, I promise I’m fine!” Ellie laughs in his arms and leans her head against his. “I’m just so happy… Like, it’s not just the dress but everything about you. You make me really happy.”

“That’s all I want, y’know.” He smiles, leaning back just enough to tuck a lock of blond hair behind her ear and look into her shiny eyes. They’re glittering with the reflection of dozens of pretty lights but to Syo, they’re holding the actual stars in the sky above. “I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world.”

One day, with a proposal, Syo adds to himself in secret. She nuzzles back into his warm coat and he hugs her a little tighter in return, letting her revel in his affection to her heart’s content. Maybe the two of them aren't quite ready yet to take the step towards marriage but once they are… Syo swears to himself that he’s going to buy Ellie the ring with the biggest diamond and jump right into this new adventure with her! For now, however, he's satisfied with the thrill of wedding bells ringing in his ears whenever the girl of his dreams is right here, right in his arms.

Written by me, for my Prince ♡

#self ship #self shipping community #self ship fic #utapri #syo kurusu #uta no prince sama #💕 yollie

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monocaelia · 3 years

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comforting you after a nightmare headcanons

nightmares aren't fun, but luckily you have someone there to protect you.

feat. albedo, diluc, childe, kaeya, xiao, zhongli

genre : hurt/comfort, fluff

note : hbd to me!! here's a gift from me to you with one of my favorite tropes, hehe <:

❀ albedo

albedo isn't one to dream much, let alone rest. he's always caught up in his own research and experiments that sleep isn't really needed if he wanted to be more productive in his research, despite the worried comments from sucrose and your lighthearted nags that he'll stay short forever.

though, that isn't to say that he's not interested. there are many times that albedo has caught you dozing off in his laboratory while waiting for him to be done with his experiments. he would be lying to himself if he didn't wonder what could possibly be playing in your mind to make you be smiling like that while unconscious.

this time, though, is an exception.

test tubes and flasks filled with various liquids and concoctions fill albedo's workspace as he examines each and every one before filling in his notebooks with descriptions and drawings of his work. there's a shuffle from his other desk and his eyes shift up to glance at you. albedo's gaze softens at the sight of his coat draped over your shoulders as they move to the rhythm of your breathing.

he wonders why you choose to stay at his laboratory so late and wait for him to finish his research rather than head home alone and sleep in your much more comfortable bed. albedo supposes you find comfort in his presence, an odd thing to be comforted by really.

however, the gentle smile quickly falls from his face the moment he hears the quiet whimpers and pleas. as quickly as he could, albedo moves to your side and gently shakes you awake. he isn't the least surprised when your eyes snap open and a gasp leaves your lips.

"...are you alright?" the question breaks you from your daze and you seem to relax when you realize you aren't dreaming anymore. though, the way your hands and shoulders shake doesn't escape the sharp eyes observing you.

"come on, i think i'm done with my research for now. we can head home if you'd like?" albedo smiles when you nod your head, but as he turns to pack up and prepare to leave his laboratory your hand shoots out to grasp his own.

albedo is surprised at first, but the shock melts into endearment as his hand pulls yours up to his lips. he presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles, reassuring you that he'll be right there for you. that you wouldn't be alone.

"nightmares, huh? ...i wonder if i can concoct something to help eradicate the chances of them appearing. oh, don't worry, i won't leave your side for the rest of the evening. promise."

❀ diluc

diluc isn't prone to nightmares, honestly he probably gets them quite often. or maybe even dreamless dreams if he's lucky. well, considering he sleeps at all. he's busy being the darknight hero of mondstatdt in the dead of night, so sleep doesn't come by often for the red haired vigilante.

even when he does get nightmares, there's not many people he can call to or rely on to help comfort him. he doesn't trust any of the knights, and he definitely doesn't trust kaeya to help at all. so comforting someone isn't something he knows how to do well.

but he tries his best to comfort you in any way, shape, or form if you ever needed him to.

the knocking against his door is quiet, nearly nonexistent if diluc was preoccupied with anything other than trying to sleep. he would have ignored it if it weren't for the quiet whisper of his name from a voice he recognized. sighing, he rises from his bed and heads over to his door, mentally preparing himself for whatever you're planning to throw over his head.

instead, diluc is met with your cheeky smile. you're definitely up to no good, but he hasn't quite figured out what you were going to do or say. before he could even question why you're standing outside his door in the dead of night, you interrupt him.

"wow diluc! fancy seeing you here, do you come here often?" he deadpans at you and nearly closes the door to go back to sleep. but he notices the way your fingers twiddle, a sign that you're nervous about something. his eyes flicker to your face, scanning anything that would give him clues on what's on your mind.

"what happened?" diluc's brows furrow in worry seeing the way your smile falls and the way your body begins to curl in on itself. he offers a hand for you to take, an invitation for you to be comforted by the stoic man in front of you. he lets a small smile grow on his lips when he sees you brighten up a tad at his invitation.

your hand is encased in his own, scarred and rough with callouses but comforting and warm at the same time.

"go back to sleep, it's already getting really late. if you need anything, though, i'll be right here until the dawn rises."

❀ childe

although sleep is necessary to maintain perfect health, childe finds it difficult to maintain a proper sleeping schedule due to his job as a fatui harbinger. when the tsaritsa calls, he needs to be there immediately to come to her aid and carry out her orders regardless of how inconvenient it was for him.

but, having many siblings, especially younger ones, has always prepared childe to comfort and protect anyone that he holds close to his heart. nobody, not even nightmares, can get close enough to harm the people he loves, not if he's alive to knock them down a peg.

which definitely includes you, someone who holds his entire world in the palm of your hands.

childe finds you awake at the dead of night after one of his shifts at the northland bank. which is surprising considering you're always asleep before he gets back home from work, always trying to stay up to welcome the harbinger home but always succumbing to the sweet embrace of slumber.

a mischievous grin grows on his lips as he plans to spook you, but as he nears your body, the shaking of your body and quiet sniffles reach his ears. immediately, childe's hand is on your shoulder and he frowns when you yelp and whip around to see him.

"o-oh, ajax, i didn't expect to see you home so soon. i was just getting ready for bed." a white lie. childe presses his lips into a thin line, his hand reaching out to catch a tear falling from your cheek. did...did he do this to you? was he being a bad partner for not putting aside more time for you?

as if reading his mind, you vehemently shake your head and grab onto childe's wrist. "no! no... it's not what you think i just had a really bad dream and couldn't go back to sleep. don't worry, you don't need to beat yourself up over this." he relaxes immediately at your comment, but he still feels bad for leaving you alone when you needed someone to comfort you.

childe leans over, cupping your face in his hands as he showers your face in featherlight kisses. your giggles fill the room and the habinger can't help but laugh as well, especially after pressing a wet, sloppy kiss on your lips. "how about i cook you a nice stew for tonight? it always helped teucer calm down when he was scared."

and you take him up on that offer. the rest of the evening is filled with light laughter from the both of you as childe moves around the kitchen and tells you stories of his childhood. the scene is comforting, peaceful, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"how about we turn in for tonight? don't worry, nothing will harm you as long as your big, strong ajax is by your side!"

❀ kaeya

despite his title of being a "lazy" and "laid-back" captain of the calvary, kaeya isn't one to sleep too much. he has a regular sleeping schedule, though there are some nights where the memories of his past haunt him and he stays up reminiscing about how things were.

he's one to brood alone, not letting anyone see him vulnerable. but he likes to be relied on. there isn't a bone in his body that prevents him from helping anyone in need, even though the way he gets things done is quite... unconventional to everybody else's standards.

but when you call to him for help, he’s there in an instant.

the sound of rustling from beside kaeya stirs him from his slumber. he squints, his good eye focusing in the darkness of his room before landing on your curled up figure beside him. he figures you’re just shifting in your sleep and closes his eyes again, but you shift again and sigh. surely, you’re not sleeping at this point.

kaeya gently calls out your name, a warm smile on his face when he sees you startle from his voice. though, his smile melts away from his face when he sees your expression. it doesn’t help that you flinch slightly when his hand reaches over to brush against your cheek.

“sorry, i just…i’m still shaken from my dream and-“ your apologies are cut short when kaeya sends you a comforting smile and cups your jaw in his hand. he assures you that it’s fine.

“are you okay? how long have you been up?” it takes you a moment too long to come up with a lie that would put your lover at ease. when you come up with an answer, kaeya is already staring at you with his mismatched orbs, one of deep sapphire and the other a light, milky blue color. you can’t lie to him now.

so you tell the calvary captain about the dream you just had, not going too into details with what really shook you. and kaeya listens to everything you say, a hand firmly on your arm to remind him that you’re with him and not whatever occurred in your dreams.

he makes little comments here and there to lighten the mood, though he knows when to keep quiet so you can talk it through. when you finish talking the dream through, kaeya pinches your cheek, chiding you for dreaming of such things.

but he reassures you that you’re fine, and that he’s here to protect you should anything from your dreams come into reality. he jokes about letting you handle everything alone, but you know he wouldn’t despite how cheeky he is.

"don't let the bedbugs bite, [name]. haha, kidding. i'll be here to fight them off if you need me. i am a captain after all."

❀ xiao

xiao isn't unfamiliar with nightmares and dreams. don't forget, one of his duties under the reign of the yaksha's previous master was to devour the dreams of the innocent. it had gotten to the point where dreams were the only things he could stomach, despite detesting the intent behind it.

despite it all, though, xiao is still an adeptus who protects the mortals and the innocent of liyue. his sole job now, under his contract with rex lapis, is to protect even if it means throwing his life away. with a swift call of his name, he would be there to be the guardian of liyue and anyone residing in it.

and that includes you, the sole mortal that the young adeptus enjoys the company of.

a gasp tears through your throat as you sit up in your bed, sweat dripping down the side of your face. your eyes are blown wide open with the visions of your nightmare still clear in your mind. the rapid beating of your heart and panting are the only sounds heard in your otherwise quiet bedroom.

curses spill from your lips as you cradle your head in your hands, your knees pulled up to your chest to try and make yourself as small as you possibly could. but to no avail, no matter what you did to comfort yourself or make yourself forget the nightmare, the visions still flashed in your memories every time you closed your eyes.

you don't hear the rustling from your window, nor did you feel the presence of someone crouching from behind your curtains. it's only when he gently calls your name do you whip your head around, eyes coming face to face with golden eyes that gleam in the moonlight.

"xiao... sorry i didn't see you there," you stutter, quickly wiping your eyes and turning away so the young adeptus wouldn't see you crying. his eyes narrow at you, eyebrows furrowing as a frown settles on his face. "what are you-"

your hands are pulled away from your face and you're pulled closer to him. "you're crying." you try to deny xiao's observation and reassure him that you're fine, but a hand gently brushes against your cheek.

xiao doesn't say anything when the tears begin falling down your face again. he doesn't say anything when you jump into his arms and bury your face in his chest. you feel his arms firmly wrap themselves around you. he doesn't say a word, but his actions alone assure you that he would be there with you for the rest of the evening.

"sleep. should any more dreams come to haunt you during your rest, i'll be here to dispose of them."

❀ zhongli

as an archon, zhongli doesn't find much need for sleep. he's a god and no god needs sleep to be energized for the following day. it's not like it would do well for him anyways, seeing as he would much rather prefer strolling the lit up streets of liyue harbor in the late evening before returning to his home to drink tea and relax.

that's not to say he isn't familiar with dreams and how they can affect mortals. he knows full well the impact they can have, especially if they're dreams filled with horrible outcomes or stuff nobody would like to be reminded of.

so when you come to him to seek comfort after a horrible night, he's ready to welcome you into his embrace.

the gentle whisper of zhongli's name alerts him of your presence from the hallway in your shared home. the archon lifts his head to look at you, eyes made of molten gold meeting your shaking gaze. "what's wrong, dear?" you don't answer his question and instead shift your gaze to the ground.

zhongli tells you to "come here" in the gentlest voice he could muster, and you do. as soon as you sit beside your lover, his hand comfortingly holds your jaw and lifts your face so you can see him. there's nothing but endearment and love in his gaze. "you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

he hums in amusement seeing the way your body relaxes after that. there's a gentle tug on your arm, a signal for you to find comfort in zhongli's embrace, and you find yourself snug in between the archon's arms. you inhale deeply, zhongli's comforting scent filling your lungs.

his hands rake gently up and down your spine and hearing his heartbeat from where you rest on his chest calms you immensely. if it weren't for your nervous, rhythmic tapping against his arm, zhongli would have assumed you fell back asleep in his arms.

"would you like to hear about the play i've been attending to recently? the plot is quite interesting, i think you would enjoy it." he attempts to distract you for a while to calm your nerves after waking so abruptly, and it works, not to his surprise.

as he drones on and on about the plot that doesn't quite make sense to you in your dazed state, the archon notices the way your fingers have stilled and your breathing has evened out, much calmer and more regulated than before. zhongli smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"it's starting to get late. you should try to rest again. don't worry, i'll be beside you should anything happen to you once more."

#albedo headcanons #albedo x reader #diluc headcanons #diluc x reader #childe headcanons #childe x reader #tartaglia headcanons #tartaglia x reader #kaeya headcanons #kaeya x reader #xiao headcanons #xiao x reader #zhongli headcanons #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin #didi writes #i wanted to do thoma but TT there's nothing on his wiki

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harryspet · 3 years

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cement walls | bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, non/dubcon sex, fingering, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, confined spaces, Stockholm syndrome(?), post-blip bucky, bucky needs some therapy, forced gender roles

[A/N] uhm so this is what i’ve been working on and like usual i have no idea where i wanna take it :):) i haven’t posted in a long while so i figured i would put this out there for some feedback! this is pretty much inspired by Room if you’ve seen that movie. [gif credit to https://jamesbrnes.tumblr.com/]

In which the outside world is too dangerous for you and Bucky is the only one who can protect you.

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan @doozywoozy

main masterlist

word count: 3.3k

Within the cement walls that surrounded your home, you imagined that you had your own little planet. You spent hours of your days thinking about what surrounded you, if there were floating rings like Saturn had, the constellations you could make out only if you could only see the entire sky, and how the sun would really feel on your bare skin. You were beginning to forget what that felt like and you sat below the skylight trying to reach into your mind and remember.

Maybe you should be grateful that there was even a skylight at all and that there was enough room for a small kitchen and bathroom. You imagined that's what he thought. You could move around freely with no chains so you should be grateful. Almost three-hundred square feet of your new planet that you should be glad to have. Except you didn’t even own the ground you stood on, this planet wasn’t really yours, you were just an astronaut trapped in space.

That morning, you scrubbed the floors, not only because the military man preferred organization but also because the small space got dirty quickly. After taking your vitamins, extra Vitamin D of course, and munching on a stale granola bar, you got to work. You made the twin bed up, making sure the sheets were tucked in tightly before organizing the small amount of clothes in the wardrobe.

When you heard the beeping of the keypad outside the door, you stood up, shutting the wardrobe. You weren’t expecting him, not having gotten to the kitchen yet, but alas your moon man appeared. You couldn’t help it, you always looked past him to see what you could have of the outside world. You saw nothing, his figure was only surrounded in darkness as he shut it quickly, and it beeped as the metal door locked again.

It was like he liked the idea of you not knowing where you were. He’d brought you into this room unconscious so you had no idea whether you were still in Louisiana or not. For all you knew, you could be floating in space and it wouldn’t matter.

The tall man’s hair was cut short, like he’d just gotten a haircut, and you hated that the room was already beginning to smell like his cologne. He held a brown bag of what you assumed were groceries, “You haven’t been here in more than two weeks. I’ve been cleaning my clothes in the sink. I started rationing food t-thinking you weren’t going to come back.”

He set the bag down on the small kitchen table and you watched his eyes roam over the dirty dishes, “I wouldn’t leave you here, doll face,” Bucky assured you, “C’mere.” He waved you over and you stepped forward cautiously.

“W-Where did you go?”

He reached up to hold your face, the leather brushing against your cheeks as he looked you over. You wore a green smock dress with a cardigan tightly over you, the box having been cold the past few days, “I had business. Far away business.”

“You’ve never been gone this long.”

“Did you miss me that much?” You wanted to roll your eyes. If Bucky didn’t come back, you’d die in probably the worst way possible and no one would know what happened to you, “I brought you back plenty of groceries, I even got you some oreos and that fancy bread you like.”

“Bucky …. I-I was so so scared. You don’t understand-” He leaned down to kiss you and when your lips didn’t move against his, he grabbed you roughly by your hair. You held in your yelp as you forced your lips to move against his. He held your hips, deepening the kiss and when he pulled away, his hands were still in your hair.

“I’m here now, “ He looked at you sharply, tugging your hair a bit, “But it seems you can’t keep the kitchen clean, no matter how much time I give you.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, the words slipping out before you could even register them.

He gestured his head over to the sink, “Get to it. And the groceries as well.”

You moved past him, turning on the warm water before grabbing a sponge. You felt his eyes on your back as you began to clean all the pots and pans you’d been using. You heard the rattling of his belt, his jeans being pulled down, the sound of his boots being stacked to the side, and the grunt he let out when he tossed his jacket over the kitchen chair.

When you placed everything in the drying rack, you moved onto the bag of groceries. He had gotten the bread you liked so you had something to look forward to that week, “I had to see that lady again.”

“You mean your therapist?”

“It’s court mandated bullshit,” You looked over and he was examining your desk and bookshelf. All the books you had were given to you by him and all the decorations were paper origami that you’d gotten good at making.

“What did you guys talk about?” You asked hesitantly, putting things away in the cabinet.

“She thinks I need more friends, more social interactions I suppose but that’s what she says every week,” You heard your bed creak as he sat down, “Hey, make me a cup of coffee, doll.”

“Oh,” It was clear that whatever that therapist was doing, wasn’t work, the biggest piece of evidence being the girl he was holding captive right now. You moved over to the coffee pot, pouring what was left into his favorite mug, “Do you … ever talk about me?”

You could feel his body stiffen even from across the room.

“Why would I?” When you turned around, his eyebrows were furrowed, his hands on his knees.

You crossed the small room with the cup in hand, “Well, you interact with me. I’m like your friend, right?” You handed him the drink, standing back as you watched him take a sip, hoping he’d be satisfied with it.

“You know why I can’t tell her about you, Y/N.”

You shook your head, “Yeah, I was just thinking … “ You sat down a few feet away from him, “Does anyone else know about me?”

“You’re curious today.”

“It’s not like I have much entertainment in here,” You said a little more snarky than you intended. You felt his mechanical arm push into the mattress beside you as he turned his head, “Sorry … when do you think I’ll get to leave the room? Not outside, just out of the room. Maybe to where you sleep at night.”

“If you’re going to be like this today-”

“Forget I said anything,” You smiled weakly, “Please.”

Bucky set down his cup on the small nightstand before he urged you closer. You scooted closer and he gently pushed your head down until it was resting in his lap. You felt his cold hand through your sweater and the other through your hair, “I know what it’s like … feeling trapped,” You pulled your feet onto the bed and he continued to stroke your hair and you welcomed the comforting touch.

“Then why …”

He shushed you, “Mind over matter, Y/N. It’s all about training your mind to adjust. You’re safer here, you’re taken care of here, and your mind is still trying to convince you that you don’t belong here.”

“I wouldn’t try to escape if I could just stay with you…”

He shushed you again, “I spent decades frozen and then, after that, I was trapped in my own mind. Now everyone’s trying to convince me that I have this new chance to survive in the world. They genuinely think of this new century as being so amazing, so much technology, and opportunities but it’s a lie, Y/N. This world is nothing but danger and death. You’re much better without it.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheeks. You felt like the chains around you were only getting heavier. He was so delusional that you thought it would be easier to start believing him, “Please don’t leave for that long again.”

Bucky sighed, “I’ll stay here for the night. How does that sound?”

You hiccuped, “T-Thank you.”

Later that night, you were lying beside bucky in the small bed. He was fast asleep but you were wide awake, looking up at the skylight. The full moon was lighting up the room. Carefully, you tossed your feet over the bed, doing your best not to disturb the soldier. You got onto the floor, crawling towards the carpet in the middle of the room. Oftentimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d lay down and stare up at the moon.

You stayed like that for lord knows how long, drifting into a place where all your thoughts were silent.

“What are you doing?” You sat up quickly, your heart racing as his gruff voice snapped you from your trance.

He was shirtless, standing above you, and rubbing his tired eyes. You simply pointed up, “The moon.”

“Get back in bed,” He commanded groggily.

You scooted over slightly, “I can’t sleep ... just come look with me. It’s beautiful.”

“You act like you’ve never seen the fucking moon before, Y/N,” His frustration caught you off guard as he reached down to grab you by your arm. You didn’t mean to but, on instinct, you flinched away. That only led him to grabbing your harder, and you stumbled as he pulled you up, “Get in the bed. You scare me to death when I wake up and can’t feel you.”

“If you care so much then why do you leave me in here for weeks on end.”

His eyes flickered with hurt for a moment, “I won’t … ever again. You need far too much discipline for me to let you be on your own for so long.” You rolled your eyes as you turned away, walking towards the bed.

He grabbed you roughly by your waist, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed you further into the mattress, his hand on the back on your neck, and you were reminded just how cruel he could be. There was a point months ago when you stopped fighting it, knowing in the end he would overpower you, but sometimes your spark appeared.

He lifted your nightgown easily, knowing he wouldn’t find any underwear to tear off, and his hand cupped between your legs. As you struggled beneath him, he felt you, rubbing and running his fingers over your lips, “Me being deep inside you seems to correct your mood. Is that what you need from me, doll face?”

Your spark appeared and went quickly, knowing he could feel your wetness, giving him the permission to sink two of fingers inside you. He moved slow, his knees pressed deep into the bed, as he watched your lips part with a gasp.

“That’s it …”

This was his favorite, knowing he could get you off with just his fingers, his fingers curling against your most sensitive areas. He fastened his pace, pushing in and out of you as you lay there bent over. Knowing you were nearing an orgasm you were sure not to run away from, he moved his vibranium arm from your neck and underneath you where he stimulated your sensitive bud.

“That’s my girl,” He coaxed you as he sent you into a shaking fit, “You finish so well on my fingers, so beautifully.” You came hard, Bucky enjoying the vulnerable view of your face. As he let you go, you pushed down your gown and laid down on your side. The bed dipped as he took a seat, rubbing your thighs as the post-orgasm regret filled you.

“You ever think you have some control over me, I want you to remember this.”

8 months later …

You flipped through the channels six channels that the old television would provide. The soldier thought buying you one would decrease your book intake which he was struggling to keep up with as you read several per week. He wasn’t a fan of technology but the two of you had a long argument about it and he eventually caved.

You weren’t sure if he knew but the TV picked up a local news channel and you got a glimpse into what the world had been like over the past year. Every now and then, there’d be a mention of Sam Wilson and you figured that’s who he was disappearing with when he was gone for weeks at a time.

As you neared closer and closer to your due date, he’d grown nicer than usual, though the way he’d gotten you pregnant wasn’t pleasant at all. “You complain so much about being lonely.” He had said when you’d missed your period, “This is what you wanted, right?”

You weren’t sure if you were just nauseous from the pregnancy or if the idea of raising a baby in that room was making you sick to your stomach. Sometimes you caught yourself being selfish, thinking about having someone to take care of and take up your time. Having someone who could love you properly, in a way that Bucky didn’t quite understand.

“How’s my girl? And how’s my mini me?” Bucky was an abnormally good move when he came down to visit you that night. He was carrying magazines in his hand and you crossed the room, curious to see the details, “I thought you might want to look at nursery stuff.”

“There’s gonna be a nursery,” Your lips pulled into a smile, “Where?”

“Here,” He gestured around and your smile fell, “You can’t be too far from the little tike. I was thinking we could put the crib where your desk is.”

You took the magazines from him, resting them on your protruding stomach, “Oh …” You tried not to sound sad, “You don’t think that maybe the space is too small? I mean, a mom and baby and sometimes you, that’s a lot of people for one room. And when they get older ….” You imagined having a happy little baby but you tried not to think about your child growing up in a box.

“When he gets older, we’ll think about it then,” He stated, already gendering the baby without any actual knowledge. He refused to let you see a doctor, only brought you prenatal vitamins, expecting that you’d have a smooth delivery right here in the room, “For now, it’s plenty of room.”

You nodded, “When he gets older, will you take him outside the room? Kids need space to play and get fresh air.”

“I’ll think about it, Y/N,” Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line.

You didn’t want to push the issue further, not wanting to spoil his mood, “I think a light green will be a good, neutral color for everything. Maybe we can decorate his side of the room.”

He smiled, “Whatever you’d like, doll face.”

You crossed the room, setting the magazines down on your desk, and a scary idea crossed your mind. A scary idea and chance you might just have to take if it meant you could get help. You were getting nowhere screaming at the top of your lungs, hoping for someone to hear you, and asking Bucky over and over again just to let you have fresh air. He was suffocatingly protective and that didn’t seem like it was gonna change. You couldn’t let him do that to your child.

You made dinner and he slept over that night, his vibranium hand holding your waist the entire night.

You planned to catch him off guard the next morning, figuring you’d have the best chance of causing a panic while he was still tired. You got up, whispering that you had to use the restroom, and you slipped inside the room. You read somewhere that only a fourth cup of water comes out when your water breaks, so you fill a cup before drenching your underwear, legs and the bathroom floor.

“Bucky!” You shouted, making sure you looked scared in the mirror, “Bucky!”

The door almost flew off its hinges as the soldier went into full alert. His eyes were wide, examining you, ��What-What happened?”

“I-I think my water broke,” A tear slipped down your cheek.

“It’s too early,” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. All the books say it's a gushing feeling and that was definitely gushing.”

“Maybe we should wait … we can wait and see if contractions start-”

You shook your head furiously, cautiously stepping forward, “We have to see a Doctor. W-We have to … contractions are supposed to start before my water breaks a-and I’m only 29 weeks. I can’t have the baby naturally.”

“But-”

“We have to! Please, Bucky, a-all I care about is the baby. Please, I don’t want to lose them. Please don’t make me-”

“Okay, okay,” He nodded, grabbing your face as he wiped your tears, “Uhm …. let's get dressed. There’s a thirty minute drive to the hospital,” You nodded and his eyes narrowed at you, “This is for the baby, remember that. You pull anything and-”

“I know,” You placed your hand over your stomach, pulling away from his grasp.

Your body was heavy when he led you out of that room. You felt your reality shifting as you entered the world again. What surprised you most was how normal the rest of the home was, not particularly homey, but it was nice and spacious. There was even a full front yard and, sadly, you imagined the happy family that could have lived here. You half-expected him to have a wife and kids that he was hiding you from.

Now, sitting in the hospital bed, you watched him paced around, not paying attention to what the Doctor was saying.

“So she’s not in labor? She felt her water breaking.”

“No, Sir. Based on the ultrasound, the amniotic fluid levels are normal. I’m not sure what happened, could be a multitude of things, but it was most likely a false alarm. But don’t worry, it happens all the time. And your baby looks very healthy.”

You opened your mouth to say something but Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you, a warning.

“Okay, thank you, Doc.”

“Do you two have a primary obstetrician? One isn’t listed-”

“Are we free to leave?”

The Doctor took another look at you, as if he was trying to understand our relationship, but if he noticed anything, he didn’t say it, “Yes, you’re free to go. I would just make sure to keep a sharp eye out and give your obstetrician a call if you have a question-”

“Of course, thanks, Doc,” Bucky nodded as he forced a smile. With his dark jacket and black gloves, it was hard for him not to look intimidating.

The Doctor looked down at you with a warm smile, “Let me know if you need anything, ma’am.”

Say something.

If you were going to say something, this would be the time. Why did Bucky have such a hold on you even outside of the room?

As soon as the Doctor left the room, Bucky turned away, frustratedly packing up your bag, “Get up, get dressed, let’s go.”

“Bucky, I really did think-”

“If you don’t want someone in this hospital to get hurt, I’d get dressed and keep your mouth shut.”

You moved your legs to the side, real tears beginning to fall down your face, as you struggled to get your dress on. Bucky noticed your sniffling from the corner of his eye. He moved towards you, kneeling down beside the bed, “Hey, I’m sorry …. I’m just stressed out. I don’t like you being here ... but everything is going to be okay. Our baby is perfectly healthy and we’ll be home soon. There will be no more interruptions after this.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod in agreement knowing that your own opinion didn’t matter. Bucky was god, enforcing his will on you, and claiming he knew best. You felt so small in comparison to him but there had to be something left within you that could keep fighting, that could keep you from going willingly back into that room-

“Y/N?”

You perked up, “Yes?”

“C’mon doll face, let’s go home.”

hope you enjoyed! not sure where i want to take this so feedback will be much appreciated!

#dark fic #dark fics #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky smut #stockholm syndrome #bucky barnes x black!reader #dark!bucky

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seiyasabi · 3 years

Text

Fixation

(This is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story ;)) This takes place in a Modern AU outside of the anime, and I won’t justify my reasoning lmao

TW: Coercion, !Drugging!, Manipulation, !Noncon!, !Dubcon!, Daddy kink (ehehe), spanking, she’s a straight up Dom w her tall ass, kinda a meanie, degradation!, handcuffs!, use of sex toys!, Overstim!, size kink!, dumbification?, unwanted filming!, etc..

Proceed with caution! Sorry if this is too self indulgent lmao, when women (lesbians) talk to me, I become the biggest idiot to ever exist :)) )

Today wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt.

Begrudgingly smoothing down the lilac fabric of your skirt, you huff indignantly. All you wanted to do was look cute for your crush, Marco, but it seems that that was too much to ask for.

Your white sweater, at least, keeps you somewhat warm from the harsh wind. It’s tucked into the waistband of your high waisted skirt, and your thigh high socks push the fat of your cute thighs out slightly. The sound of your white sneakers against the pavement is drowned out by your classmates’ loud voices, and you’re seemingly unaware of a certain black-eyed glare.

Seeing your classroom come into view, you hurry inside, sliding into your lab assigned seat. Eyeing the dark haired male of your dreams, you can’t help but sigh pathetically at the fact that he hasn’t noticed you. Up until recently, the two of you were great friends-always hanging out and texting one another. But, the moment the both of you picked up this class, everything changed.

Hearing the seat next to you slide open, you glance up at your seatmate. Smiling up at the tall woman, you greet her kindly, “Hi, Lena! How’re you today?”

The Russian exchange student smirks down at you, as she plops onto the seat, “Good, now that you’re here.”

Laughing at her gruff words, you wave her off, “You always say that,” Zipping open your backpack, you pull out your class notes, “What’re you going to do this weekend?”

Her smirk widens, dark eyes gleaming, “Why? Asking me on a date?” You laugh once more, completely oblivious to her hopeful tone.

“You’re so funny, Lena,” Pulling out your pack of multicoloured pens, you start to set up for your class, “I just heard you speaking with Annie about ‘something big’ the other day, so I became curious.”

Not one to acknowledge boundaries, the blonde woman starts to play with your (hair/sweater), “I’m throwing a party, one you should come to,” Her tone leaves no room to negotiate, but you don’t really notice. Nodding, you smile up at her.

“Sounds fun! When is it and who’s going?” Her hand trails down to your thigh, fiddling with your sock. Brushing off your mild alarm at her ministrations, you justify her actions through your cultural differences.

“Tonight at eight. Annie and her friends should be there, same with Marco and a few others,” She name dropped the kind man on purpose, knowing your misguided infatuation with him. If only you knew how much of a pussy he is. All she did was threaten him once, and suddenly he stayed clear of you. It made her life easier, sure, but it annoyed her that he dropped you like a gutted fish. You’re too good for that.

Pulling out your phone, you pull up your calendar, showcasing that you have no plans this evening, “Okay, I can go!”

Her smirk grows wider than before, “Great,” Yelena’s accent seemingly grows thicker, her r rolling more harshly than before.

With that, class begins without a hitch; Yelena’s hand still glued to your perfect thigh.

Stepping out of your car, you readjust your new outfit. Keeping the thigh highs from earlier, you changed your lilac skirt for a black, body con one, along with a cropped, black long sleeve shirt that accentuates your cleavage.

Slamming your car door shut, you lock it with your key, before heading towards Yelena’s luxurious flat. You can hear low music and voices from her open top floor balcony, multiple shadows moving inside her home.

With a fast beating heart, you can’t help but hope that Marco will speak with you tonight. With that hope deep in your chest, you step inside the fancy building’s lobby. Approaching the front desk, you go to show them your ID, but are met with brightly smiling faces.

“Go on up to the tenth floor, (Your Name)! Yelena already told us that you’re coming!” Surprise overcomes your form. Why do they know you by appearance alone? You’ve never even been here before.

“Oh, okay! Thank you,” Deciding to ignore the weird situation at hand, you head towards the lift. Pressing the button, you wait a few moments, before stepping into the open lift doors. The sleek metal walls reflect your appearance back at you, whilst you press the pristine ‘10’ button. With a small beep, the lift begins to move, practically flying at top speed to the top floor.

Once at the tenth floor, the doors fly open, showing what looks to be a living room. You can’t help but gawk at the large flat displayed before you. Your classmate must be quite wealthy to afford a place like this.

You awkwardly make your way inside, and are immediately greeted by the party’s host, “Hey, (Your Name), welcome!” You’re side hugged by a buff arm, practically slammed into Yelena’s torso.

“Hey, thanks for having me!” You pat her back in an attempt to have her let you go, but instead, it seems to spur her on. She drags you towards a large L-shaped couch, which is filled by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. A handful of others sit at her dining room table and kitchen counter, the open concept allowing everyone to see and speak to each other comfortably.

Reiner glances up from the story he’s telling Historia and Ymir, a grin painting his handsome features, “Whoa, that’s a new look for you, (Your Name)!”

Multiple eyes are suddenly glued to your now self conscious form, an uneasy smile on your face, “Hello, everyone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great! It’s just really different from your normal, cute clothes,” People nod and agree with the large man, causing you to break out in a nervous sweat.

“Well, I hope I don’t look too bad,” You joke halfheartedly, “I just wanted to try something new.”

Yelena takes your appearance in, practically salivating. Whilst she does enjoy your usual clothing, this look fits you quite well.

“You look very nice,” Bertholdt reassures soothingly, patting the spot by him, “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

The short haired woman glued to your side reacts immediately, “No, the girl needs a drink,” Annie shoots her a knowing look, which she nods to in response. You’re practically ragdolled to the kitchen bar, as the conversation starts up once more. Once at the marble countertop, the large woman releases you in favour of pouring you a cup of spiked punch, “This is very good. Made it myself.”

You give her a bright smile, accepting the red solo cup, “Cool! I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bringing the cup to your (lipstick/chapstick/lipgloss) coated lips, you take a small sip. A burst of fruity goodness explodes on your tastebuds, making your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t taste a drop of alcohol in it, “Wow! This is really good!”

A proud grin overtakes her lips, as she nods her thanks, “Of course it is. I knew you were coming, after all,” You laugh in response, and take another sip of the red liquid.

“I see! Well, you have a very nice home!” The tall woman leans against the counter, holding herself up with an arm that goes behind your form.

“Thank you. It’s very spacious. I find myself lonely at times,” Her large, black eyes stare down at you, trying to send you a message through them alone.

“Oh, well, have you tried getting a roommate? Maybe the flat won’t be so empty,” She nods at your words.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you be my roommate?” You laugh, thinking that she’s joking. Not bothering to look up, as you take another swig of your drink, you don’t see the somewhat hurt look on her face.

“That would be something! Not only are we seatmates, but we’re also roommates,” You giggle some more, taking more sips of your delicious drink, “But, your flat is a lot nicer than mine. I may take up on your offer.”

Looking up, you see her grin at you approvingly, “Yes, that would be nice,” What you don’t know is that her lease is almost up, making it so she has paperwork she needs to fill out. Paperwork that would look great with your co-sign on it.

Three drinks in, and you’re feeling a bit woozy. Typically, you’re not a lightweight, but it seems that you are tonight.

Leaning your upper body onto Yelena’s strong form, you laugh hysterically at something Reiner says, “Oh my God, you’re hilarious-” You cut yourself off with a snort, causing the entire room to laugh at your cute giggling.

The short haired woman you’re currently using as a pillow holds you tenderly, a pleased smile on her face. The stuff Annie gave her works very well.

“Man, if you weren’t Yelena’s girl, I would’ve cuffed you a semester ago!” Reiner roars wholeheartedly, slapping the leather couch below him.

In your cloudy mind, you barely understand the words he just said, “Haha, wha-?”

Pushing your head into her breasts, Yelena shushes you, “My poor baby is such a lightweight,” She and the others chuckle at that understatement, “I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Her civil way of kicking everyone out was enough, as everyone trickles out of her luxurious flat. Once the last person leaves, Yelena stands to her feet, scooping you up in her buff arms. She goes to her lift, pressing the lock input, she types in the lock code, not allowing anyone in or out of her home. Your high mind can barely comprehend what’s going on around you.

She hums an unknown tune, as she goes up her steps to her master bedroom. Kicking open the door, she flips on her bedroom light with her elbow, before shutting the door with her foot. Sauntering to her California King sized bed, she lays your drugged out form on her light grey coloured sheets.

“-Lena, wha-” Your head lulls to the side as you giggle uncontrollably, “-Are- are we dating?” She hums in response, starting to pull down your skirt.

“Yes, my Darling Girl,” She smooches your forehead, “We’ve been together since I moved here,” Pulling your skirt’s fabric down and off of your legs, she tosses it on the floor, exposing your pink panties.

“Bu-but, I like Marco,” You weakly attempt to push her grabby hands away from you, “I-I wan’ Marco!”

The feelings of disgust, envy, and fury overwhelm her all at once. How dare you! She’s always treated you so well, that spineless fucker doesn’t deserve anything from you! He especially doesn’t deserve your wonderful heart!

She says nothing, grabbing your blouse, and chucking it off of you. Your breasts jiggle at her ministrations, your bra just barely containing your tits. Seeing your almost bare, perfect body makes her pussy tingle, but her anger outweighs her arousal.

Settling on the bed, she grasps your boneless body, and pulls you over her knees. You’re still muttering and questioning the validity of your relationship, all whilst saying that horrible boy’s name, causing her to cup the fat of your ass and squeeze harshly.

“Baby, you know better than to say those horrible things. I love you very much, and it hurts to hear you say that.”

Your breasts, arms, and head rest over her left knee, as you try to look up at her stern face, “But-”

“No buts, you know what happens when you act like a brat,” She slaps your ass experimentally, earning a pained yelp. A small smirk covers her lips, and she hits your ass as hard as she can.

“‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Your pleading is cute, so cute.

“I know you didn’t, Princess. But I have to remind you of your place,” She slams her hand down once more, jolting your entire body. A shrill cry leaves your lips, as you try to move off of her lap, but seemingly can’t find the strength to do so.

After five more smacks, the blonde pulls you onto her lap in a straddling position. One of her arms wraps around your top half, pushing your crying face into her neck. The other is wrapped around your waist, hand smoothing over your bruising ass, and playing with the hem of your panties.

“Don’t cry, Princess. You know I had to set you straight,” She coos, “Your stupid, little brain is far too gone to understand at the moment, but you will once you sober up. So, for now, let your Daddy make you feel good.”

You mutter nonsensical words in between your sobs, but the large woman isn’t put off. After she’s done with you, you’ll never think of that freckled fuck ever again. At least, you won’t unless you want him dead.

Wrestling your pliant body to the mattress once more, she leaves you on the bed by yourself, before rolling onto the left side. Opening the top drawer of her nightstand, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs, a battery powered hitachi wand, duct tape, and a small bottle of lube. Setting them on the bed by your writhing form, she quickly makes her way back to you.

“Shh, it’s alright, Princess. I’m right here,” Yelena reaches under you, fiddling with your bra’s hooks until it pops open, allowing her to slide your useless arms out of the garment. Tossing it aside, she sucks in a deep breath, enjoying the view of your plush chest. Experimentally, she pinches your right nipple, relishing the small moan you let out at the feeling. Gripping the handcuffs next to you, she feeds your dainty wrists through the opening, popping the pink, plush cuffs on tightly. Happy with the result, she continues her endeavour.

Moving farther down your body, she leaves your socks on, loving how your thigh fat squishes up a bit. Grabbing the hem of your cute, pink panties, she pushes them off of you, exposing your pretty cunny. It separates from you with a small string of slick, filling Yel with a sense of satisfaction. You’re her perfect pain slut, aren’t you?

Pushing on your pliant legs open, she smiles happily down at you, dark eyes blown wide open, “Awe, is your slutty pussy wet for me?”

You shake your head rapidly, disorienting yourself more than before, “Nu-no! It’s not!” She clicks her tongue teasingly, her smile growing wider than before.

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. Now I have to punish you once more,” Forcing your legs open, she holds them down with her own, straddling your waist. Her large form easily overpowers you, as she grabs the blue hitachi wand, and flips it on to the highest setting. Pushing it against your clit with a swift motion, your entire body jolts at the sudden stimulation. A loud whine leaves your lips, as you try to buck it off of your sensitive cunny.

“Puh-please! Take it off! It’s too much!” Yelena snickers in delight, ignoring your pleading. Grabbing the duct tape from beside you, she rips off a few long strips, before smacking them onto your skin and the vibrator, effectively keeping it attached to you.

Your moans and whimpers continue to grow louder and louder, as you try your best not to cum. You bite your lips in the hopes of stifling yourself, but it does little to help. If anything, it just spurs the large woman on.

“Go on, cum for me, cum for Daddy,” You shake your head, a few keens falling from your mouth, as she watches in awe at the way your cunny leaks and clenches around nothing.

Your toes curl in ecstasy as you cum, a loud whine escaping you. A gush of your orgasm flows from you, wetting the blonde woman and the mattress below. Two long, slender fingers prod at your slick pussy, forcing themselves inside your sensitive walls.

“Good Girl, You’re so Good for me,” They Start to move in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with how long her fingers are.

“Too much! Too much!” You cry, as she quickly brings you over the edge once more.

More slick sprays from your cunny, as overstimulation begins to set in. Yelena captures your lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is wet and hot, as she grips at your plush chest.

“No, no it’s not, Baby. It’s not enough,” Fumbling with her fly, she releases the strap she’s been wearing all night. In all honesty, she’s surprised that you hadn’t noticed the bulge or felt it underneath your ass earlier. It’s a good ten inches in length, and around 5.5 inches of girth.

It is pretty intimidating for most, but due to your fucked out stupor, it should feel amazing for you. Grabbing the lube, she squeezes a small amount onto the silicone cock, smoothing it over the toy in sync with her fingers pumping inside of you.

Deeming the toy and your cunny ready, she makes the next move. Sliding off of your numb legs, she stands to her feet, towering over you in all of her glory. Hefting you up and off of the mattress, she quickly punched your back against her pristine, white wall. Forcing your arms around the back of her head, she continues to kiss your drooly mouth vigorously.

Wrapping your legs around her slender waist, her large leg muscles and arms work to hold you up. Guiding your dripping cunny over the tip of her strap, she slowly sinks you onto it.

A keen of both surprise and pleasure rips out of your throat, as you grip onto her short, blonde locks. Giggling, she bucks her hips into yours sharply, causing you to orgasm on the spot. The vibrator and her strap on feels like heaven.

Throwing your head back in bliss, you feel your arousal drip onto her dress pants, creating even more wet spots than before. Separating from your lips, she grins down at you.

“Look at you, dirty Girl,” She spanks your ass harshly with one hand, as she continues a hardcore pace. The tip of the silicone cock batters against your cervix, causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain, “You love it when Daddy ruins your pussy, don’t you?”

Too fucked out to think properly, you nod your head vigorously, “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I love Daddy’s cock!” She kisses your cheek tenderly, not stopping her thrusts for even a moment. Moving her lips down your vulnerable neck, she starts to suck the tender skin, leaving dark love marks on your pretty skin.

“Mmm, good Princess! Since you’re such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a treat? Does your dumb little mind even understand what I’m saying?” You nod once again, eyes teary and pleading.

“Yes! Yes! I want a treat, please, Daddy!” Smirking against your skin, she reaches into her pocket from around your thigh.

“Since you asked so nicely-“ She presses the injector lever, shooting a large load of fake cum into your gummy, needy pussy. You cum almost immediately, this clearly being the biggest orgasm of the night, as you practically convulse and squirt a geyser of cum all over the place, “I think you deserve Daddy’s cum inside you.”

You practically sob at the overstimulation and the feeling of being so full, “Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!” You kiss her of your own volition, surprising the large woman. Her heart warms, loving how you’ve become so submissive.

Cradling you’re form to her muscular body, she saunters back towards the bed, pushing any other objects off and into the night side table.

Placing you on the now dry sheets, she quickly flicks off the vibrator still taped to your clit, before placing it on the table beside her. Plucking off the duct tape, she then takes off your handcuffs, effectively freeing you. Instead of moving away from the woman, you lay there tiredly, no longer processing the situation.

Sighing in content, Yelena grabs a hand towel from the drawer she keeps her sex toys in, and wrestles it under your hips. Smiling, she removes the strap from inside of you, enjoying the sight of the fake cum flooding out of you.

Laying next to you, she pulls your head into her chest, curling around you as if she were a safety blanket.

“You did well, Princess,” You don’t say anything, snuggling into her warmth, “Go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll announce our official status, okay?”

An slurred ‘Okie’ is heard, before you slip into unconsciousness. Cupping your face in appreciation, her dark eyes glance in the direction of a small green light coming from her video camera.

Now you’ll have to date her; after all, you wouldn’t want your sex tape to get out, would you?

#yelena #yelena x reader #yandere yelena #yandere aot #yelena brainrot #yelena aot #aot x reader #yelena thirst #yelena smut #yelena supremacy #yandere aot x reader

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Note

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party.

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily.

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.”

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure.

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...”

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.”

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.”

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.”

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.”

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.”

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.”

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.”

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence.

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home.

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying.

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?”

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset.

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.”

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually.

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.”

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.”

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.”

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?”

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody.

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.”

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?”

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.”

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.”

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.”

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly.

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.”

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.”

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.”

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.”

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees.

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.”

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.”

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #anon ask #anon request

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kaseyskat · 2 years

Text

I've been sad about marcy all day so I thought I'd write something about her being Not Sad to cope, and somehow this came out, come get some marcanne-centric fluff <3

~~~~~

marcy looks the most contemplative at night.

anne doesn't usually make a habit out of staring at her best friend turned partner at night. usually, it's the opposite, she thinks; despite all the practice, all the late nights, she's still always the first to fall asleep and somehow the last to rise. it scares her a little, but she's found that if she makes marcy come lay down with her before bed, there's a better chance that marcy will actually sleep a healthy amount without being woken.

tonight is not one of those nights.

she couldn't sleep. it happened, sometimes, where the worries and fears that plagued her kept her tossing and turning, helplessly staring up at the ceiling - and they had coordinated the placement of glow-in-the-dark stars here, too, even if it made anne feel silly and childish - and tracing constellations she doesn't know by name. she could only bear so much of it before she was sliding out of bed, leaving sasha snoring away and going into the studio slash makeshift office space where she knows she'll find marcy.

marcy looks contemplative. she sits in her fancy rolling chair, pivoting back and forth as she stares out of the window. the curtains are drawn, though, because there's a streetlight right outside their apartment window and the orange light is too familiar, too painful. none of them want to see orange light on anything ever again, anne thinks.

"hey," she says, softly, drawing marcy's attention to herself instead. "whatcha thinking about?" it's a quiet whisper, just loud enough that marcy can hear it- she doesn't want to startle her.

marcy, to her credit, doesn't smile sheepishly like she usually would, but she does pat her own lap invitingly. anne's never one to decline such a welcome invitation, so she surges forwards, plopping herself into marcy's lap, curling arms around her neck to keep herself stable as the chair whirls.

she still doesn't answer the question, though, and anne huffs, poking marcy's cheek with one finger carefully. "hey. marmar. come on, I'm right here."

marcy finally snaps to full attention, and now she looks sheepish, apologetic. "you're so warm," she says, with a light shiver. "I think- I think I'm coming down with something." there's an implied again in her tone- she's been sick a lot recently, the bouncing weather aggravating her fragile immune system.

"and I'm your best blanket," anne nods, very seriously, unable to hide her own smile as marcy snorts. "you don't have to hide because you don't feel good, marce. come lay down with us- you'll feel better."

"that's not the reason," marcy argues. "I'm just... not that tired. I was thinking about my finals."

"your finals are in three weeks, you can think about them later," anne whines. she's not usually so vocally needy, but between her work schedule, sasha's training schedule, and marcy's school schedule, they haven't had much time together to just... relax. "come on, marbles. please?"

she nestles her head into marcy's shoulder, curls against her neck and breathes. marcy's arms come to wrap around her, keeping her steady as she balances precariously in the chair, legs hanging awkwardly off to the side before she curls them fully into marcy's lap.

marcy sighs, and she's letting anne melt into her arms, the chair tilting dangerously. "anne, we're going to-"

the chair tips over before she can finish the sentence, and it sends them both sprawling to the ground.

"shit," anne coughs, and she scrambles to her knees, kneeling over marcy. "are you okay?"

marcy groans, blinks dazedly up at anne, and then laughs. she laughs and laughs, and it's so cheerful and infectious that anne can't help but laugh along. soon, they're both a hysterical giggling mess, laughing and laughing like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"I think we're both sleep deprived," anne says between giggles. "come on, come on, please-?"

"okay, okay," marcy relents, and she allows anne to pull her to her feet, swaying precariously. "but you gotta carry me." she says it teasingly, but anne's never been one to deny a challenge, and she very easily scoops marcy into her arms bridal style, one arm under her knees and the other curled across her back, gentle and firm.

anne carries her all the way back into the bedroom, placing her down in the middle of the bed- her preferred spot, because marcy likes to be pressed on all sides by her girls. almost immediately, sasha turns to curl against her.

"took too long," she grumbles under her breath.

anne and marcy make eye contact, and they both giggle again as anne slides back into bed. the worry and agitation she felt earlier is gone, replaced with a fuzzy warmth and the feeling of contentment. this is what she was missing.

and so she curls into marcy, and sasha's hand finds her own across marcy's chest, and marcy places one of her own hands on top of their joined ones, and it's warm and cozy and everything anne has ever wanted.

and all three of them sleep peacefully for the rest of the night.

#kasey writes stuff #marcy wu #anne boonchuy #marcanne #sashannarcy #im incapable of not writing sashannarcy now im so sorry #anyways this was all written on my phone because. im insane #they make me feel insane

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