#but ive reached the point where like. standing up makes my head spin so i dont wannaaaaaaa go into the kitchenand do stuff

[soft-spooks]

me when lemondrop <33333

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

AHHHH CONGRATS ON 5k!!! Ok ok, hear me out on this request because I think it might make a good little fic. I can’t decide between Hesh or Price for this one but I got a general idea: stoned Hesh or Price. You know those videos of husbands waking up from surgery and not recognizing their wife right away but knowing they’re the most beautiful person in the world (something like this: https://youtu.be/kV8KyeApBJY). Well maybe it’s something like he got hurt from a mission (hurt enough to require drugs/anesthesia for the plot) but is recovering back at base and imagine their wife is their medic and she’s trying to update his team on how he’s recovering and you just got a stoned Hesh or Price completely hopped up on drugs following his injury, just fawning over her and he just goes bananas when she “reveals” they’re married. The team got a kick out of it

—Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

You walked around the room, tidying up what you could if only for the simple fact that it could distract you from the unconscious body in the bed. Realistically as a medic, you knew he would be fine—he was in the best hands possible—but Hesh had a track record for being unpredictable. 

He’d gotten into some trouble out in No Man’s Land again. Broken arm and ribs; a bullet through his thigh. He was so pumped full of medication and anesthetics from surgery that you doubted that he would be waking up soon.

But then again, Hesh was always surprising you. It was one of the reasons you’d married him, after all. Never a dull day.

Elias’s voice calls from the doorway. 

“You’re going to fall over at this rate,” you blink quickly, turning with an extra blanket in hand to spread around your husband’s comatose state. 

Your father-in-law has his arms crossed, and Logan slinks his way through the doorway with an arm looping your shoulders, a head pushed into your scalp silently. You sigh deeply, tension that you hadn’t realized was on your face lessening.

“Only if he keeps me from seeing those greens of his.” 

Logan huffs a laugh, squeezing you as his father grunts—the stern man’s eyes softening in a way they only would for you and his boys.

“He’d be more worried about you than himself if you did. Put my mind at ease, okay?” Your eyes roll but you nod with a small smile. You don’t argue with his point in the slightest. 

So, that was how you ended up here, in a seat by Hesh’s hospital bed—your hand in his and your head nodding back and forth with fatigue. Elias and Logan are casually playing a game of chess from across the room when David’s eyes flutter; his mouth releasing a low groan.

Your lids snap back, spine straightening, but before you can get a word out, your husband is pulling his hand from yours. His green eyes are loopy, pupils blown wide. 

He mutters something under his breath, lips grimacing and face pulling in at the sight of you. 

“Hesh?” The two men stand as you check his vitals, heart hammering until there’s nothing out of the ordinary and you can sit back down with a sigh and a relieved smile. “Take it easy, alright? You got out of surgery a little while ago—everyone’s here for you—”

“W…Where��s my wife?” His words slur, jaw loose as he rotates it; the unbroken arm with an IV chord stuck in it raises as jerky digits rub at his eyes. You’re left at a loss, blinking slowly in confusion before sharing looks with your in-laws. “No offense, Miss, you’re pretty and all, but…shit, why’s everything spinning?”

A hand covers your mouth, heated embarrassment lighting inside of your veins. 

“Hesh, Sweetheart,” your arm reaches to the brunette, trying to grab his wrist that he weakly moves away. 

“Stay away from me,” he grunts, head limply lulling on its pillow. “Thought I told you to keep it to yourself. My Wife’ll rip,” Hesh’s voice fizzles, a loud yawn peeling his bandaged face back, “you to pieces.” A pause. You hear Logan trying to hide his loud laughter behind his lips. “Did…the doctor send you?”

Your body turns to Elias, face beaming and expression exasperated. 

“Now that he’s awake will you get the other three? It’ll be easier to give the news to all of you at once.”

“Already commed ‘em,” the man states, watching his eldest with a raised brow and a slow smirk. “Least we know he’s a loose cannon on anesthesia.” 

Merrick, Keegan, and Ajax all file in, and as you continue to watch over a loopy Hesh, his small noises and babbling continue even when you give the breakdown of the patient sheet. You stand just shy of brushing the bed’s lower frame. You won’t lie and say it isn’t hilarious.

“He needs to keep out of the field for at least two and a half months, boys, and I’m not joking about that, alright?”

Your husband’s slow voice slashes through your speech, and the rest of the Ghosts snicker, sharing knowing looks as Hesh tries to lift the hand currently wrapped to his chest to keep it still. “You’re a real beautiful lady, Doll, y’know that? I’m sorry you like me so much, but I love my wife, you hear? Please don’t be angry with me.”

“Hesh, Darling,” you walk closer and bend down carefully. He blinked owlishly at you, finger coming up to poke at your cheek. Your hand grabs his as you hear Ajax make a quick remark to Keegan about the man being ‘totally whipped even when he’s high.’ 

“David, hey,” your voice prompts him to smile, perhaps now only realizing the familiarity of it. “I’m going to tell you something, hm?”

“Okay,” he watches, petting your neck with his thumb. 

“I am your wife.” The man’s eyes widen comedically as everyone shares a long laugh with one another. 

“No way,” Hesh breathes after a moment, awe-stricken. “Really?”

“Really.” There’s a moment of silence, and then the heart monitor begins to pick up its pace to a fast pound. Your face goes hot with love, and you bend your head forward in a long and honest laugh into his shoulder. 

Green eyes shift to the men, and Hesh beams, cheeks red and heart racing as he slurs out, “This is my wife?!”

It was safe to say they were never going to let him forget about this.

[wheeboo]

i think of going for a walk with seungkwan. maybe in a forest? with all trees and animals — now that i think about it...it would be a mess.

you'd be like "come on, it's just a little bug!" while seungkwan is literally doing karate moves, waving his hands, shaking his head, screaming like a chicken and running away. "it is NOT just a big! look how big it is AUUGH-"

i'm so funny 😚

no cuz ive imagined this exact kind of scenario for a long time HE WILL BE LIKE THIS YOURE SO RIGHT LIKE

imagine proposing the idea to go on a walk at this new park you passed by earlier with seungkwan. you saw how vast and open it was and you were contemplating whether this would become your new walking location.

seungkwan didn't know why you had chosen to go on a walk at this ungodly hour in the middle of the afternoon with the heat of the sun hitting his face and making him feel like he's melting into a puddle (even with the mass amounts of sunscreen he had put on). he has been enjoying it nonetheless since he gets to spend time with you and admire nature's beauty, but he's had his arm wrapped around yours for the past fifteen minutes because he swears he's been hearing something buzz in his damn ear.

but now the two of you were entering into a more remote location in the park after being on the same trail for the past many minutes. the sun's rays were being blocked by the tall, hovering trees and seungkwan swears he can finally breathe without the sun incinerating him--not entirely though. as the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds fills the air, he always finds himself flinching out of caution.

and he hears that buzz again.

"eugh!" he screeches, yanking on your arm which causes you to stumble in surprise.

his eyes widen as he points to his ear. "it's that buzzing again! there's something in my ear, i know it!"

you suppress a chuckle and pat his arm reassuringly. "calm down, baby. it's probably just a fly or a mosquito. let me check."

he reluctantly allows you to guide him to sit down on a nearby fallen log. you inspect his ear while he shoots anxious glances around.

"see there's nothing in your ear--"

"AHHH!" he stands up from the log and runs back to the trail, shaking his head violently and waving his hands in the air as if he was trying to karate chop something, like he's in an epic battle with an invisible insect army.

"kwannie, what are you doing?" you call out, trying to hold back laughter.

"it's in my hair! it's in my hair!" he shrieks, voice reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass. "oh my god, i think i touched it! it's huge!"

"baby, it's just a small fly! it won't kill you!" that's enough to send him barreling back in your direction, his hands on your shoulders as he hides behind you, as if your body became a shield for his defenses against a literal fly.

"seungkwan, are you serious?" you say between giggles, looking over your shoulder at him. rolling your eyes, you spin around and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. "i promise you, the fly isn't going to harm you. it's probably more scared of you than you are of it."

seungkwan lets out a nervous laugh as you hold him close, arms hesitantly wrapping around you as if he's still half-expecting an attack from the invisible fly. his heart is racing, and you can feel the rapid rhythm against your own chest.

"well, i hope that fly knows better than to mess with me," seungkwan mumbles against your shoulder, which causes more laughter to bubble out of you.

buzz.

"okay you know what, we're leaving." seungkwan grabs your hand in his, pulling you in the direction of where you both came in from. you find yourself nearly tripping as the two of you dash out of the forest area of the park, your giggles flying in the air together.

[chooseyourownavenger]

[START] [ABOUT AND WARNINGS] [FAQ]

IRONHAWK/ Let’s get to the control room

“I think we should go to the control room.  It might be slightly more dangerous, but the rewards will be a lot bigger,” you say.  “Besides, Tony, if you can’t power the suit we might be in more trouble if we get trapped there.”

Tony and Clint look at each other like they’re deciding on something through some unspoken conversation.  “Yeah, okay,” Clint says. “Let’s do it.”

Tony kicks one of the guys on the ground.  “Which way to the control room?”

“It’s up two floors, and that way,” he says, pointing.

Tony and Clint seem to believe the guy is telling the truth.  They follow his instructions, peering into rooms every now and again to make sure they’re not missing anything.

The climb up in the vents is difficult, especially with Clint’s broken ribs and injured shoulder.  By the time you’re two floors up, he’s sweating and looking very pale.  By the time you reach the control room, the lights are starting to come on in the building.

Tony looks out into the room.  “There’s five, so we’re outnumbered but only just.  Cupid, you think you can shoot?”

Clint nods. “Always.  Gonna have to do worse than this for me to miss a target.”

“Alright, I’ll take the lead, you have my back,” Tony looks back at you. “As soon as you can get a weapon, do it, but don’t get yourself shot.”

You nod and Tony turns and takes a deep breath, cocking his gun.  He sneaks out of the vent moving well away from it, clearly hoping he’d draw the whole room's attention.  When he’s far enough away he gets up and fires at one of the agents.  It hits him right in the middle of his body mass and he goes down.  As the other four people turn, drawing their weapons, Tony shoots again, hitting a woman in the shoulder.  Clint draws and shoots, taking out everyone that’s standing before they can even react to him being there.

You run over to one of the women, planning on taking the gun from her hand, but she’s still completely conscious and she wheels her arm toward you and fires wildly, hitting you in the side.  You cry out and stumble back as Clint quickly shoots the woman once more.  “Shit,” he curses, running over to you.

You hold your side as Clint kneels beside you.  “Let me see,” he says.

You take your hand away.  There’s a lot of blood.  It makes you woozy looking at it as Clint quickly pokes you and looks you over.  “Okay, hold it again.  I’ll get something to stop the flow.”

He gets up and Tony pulls your shirt back off and throws it at Clint as he goes to the control panel and starts working at hacking into the system to send out a message to the Avengers and to keep the rooms locked down.

Clint runs back to you and wraps the shirt around your waist.  “The bullet went right through, and I think it missed everything, but we have to staunch that blood flow.  Hold it still and I’ll see if they have a first-aid kid in her somewhere. If they don’t I’ll make something.”

You nod in understanding, and he rushes off and starts looking through everything.  The room starts to spin and you think you’re starting to sway.  Clint comes back with a first aid kid.  “Okay… stay with me.  I’m gonna stitch you up. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

You swallow thickly and nod.  He barely even wipes the wound clean when you black out.

The world comes back to you slowly, first the smell of disinfectant, and the clean cold scent of oxygen coming through a nasal cannula.  The coolness of the room is what you notice next, and without even opening your eyes, you pull the scratchy blanket up over yourself.  It catches on your IV and you whine and open your eyes.

The room is very white and way too bright, and it takes a moment for your eyes to open.

“Hey, she’s awake.”

You turn your head to see Clint in the bed beside you.  He’s heavily bandaged but sitting up and looking happy.  Between the two of you is Tony Stark, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, the glow of his arc reactor seeping through the fabric.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Hospital. The Royal Alfred in Melbourne to be exact.  We’ll head home when you’re cleared,” Tony explains.  “And don’t worry.  I’m covering the costs.”

“How long was I out?” you ask.

Tony looks at his watch.  “About a day.  You lost a lot of blood.  But the wound was clean through and didn’t hit anything vital.  They had to give you a transfusion, and you’ll be in here for a week,” Tony explains.  “The Avengers arrived about four hours after you passed out.  They must have been in the process of tracking us down to get there that quickly.  Probably used FRIDAY.  They brought us back here.”

“I’ve got broken ribs and a broken arm,” Clint explains.  “Using the bow didn’t help.  You lost a lot of blood, so they gave you a transfusion.  You were in surgery too, but the bullet wound was clean, so they just stitched it up.  They’re going to need to keep you in for observation for a bit.”

“What about you, Tony?” you ask.

“I was pretty fine,” he says.  “The arc was damaged, but I switched it out.  They have run some tests on my heart and took some blood.  But I feel okay.”

“You know you’re gonna have to move the Avengers out of the city, right?” you ask.

Tony nods.  “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve already got a team looking for land in the country away from any towns.  We wanted to be a beacon - not a target.”

He shifts in his chair so he’s facing you more.  “So,” he says, leaning forward a little. “I promised you I’d take you out after all this.  At the party, you seemed pretty into both of us before you had a freakout.  How about we do this properly?  No one-night stands, Clint and I take you out for dinner?”

You look over at Clint.  “You want that too?”

He nods eagerly.  “I don’t care about what people say about us.  I think we work well together.”

“It’ll be messy,” you say.  “My boss won’t like it.  And the press will have a field day.”

“We can figure it out,” Tony says.  “Let your boss know so there’s no conflict of interest.  He might think there is one now after we saved you anyway.  Then we’ll keep it quiet until we know either way.”

“I didn’t think you actually dated, Tony,” you say.

“I don’t - not normally.  But you can’t say we didn’t hit it off and now - after what we just went through…” He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair.  “I don’t want to keep looking for excuses not to be happy.”

You take a deep breath and look at the two men.

It’s still a no.  Dating two men isn’t for me.

Alright let’s do it.

[koba-baboba]

A perfect ending

Pairing: Bucky x reader x Steve

Warnings: SMUT!! Dirty talk. Threesome, oral (male receiving) lightly described rough sex. Unprotected sex (don’t try that at home kiddos)

A/N: this is so long oh my lord. I hope y’all like it

Requests: open and waiting to be filled

part one; seven minutes in heaven

You quickly shuffled to straighten yourself out but, you were a little too slow. Steve pulled the door open and looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shot up. “Have fun?” Steve hummed, quirking his head. “You could say that. Would’ve been more fun with you” Bucky replied. That response sent your head reeling. That last sentence echoed in your head the rest of the night.

You joined the party again, sitting in between the super soldiers, head spinning. You jumped when you felt two hands grab your thighs, opposite each other. Your eyes snap down to both Steve and Bucky having their hands on you, not so subtly. You opened and closed your mouth trying to figure out what was happening. You heard Bucky chuckle from next to you like an absolute asshole. He knew what was going on and was laughing at your confusion. Dick.

“Bucky and I have something to talk to you about. C’mon” Steve whispered into your ear, making your hair stand on end. Your head whipped between the two men as they pushed to stand up. You hopped up sandwiched between the two giants. You had a feeling where this was going and you weren’t against it. What had happened in that closet with Bucky already had you on edge. A ruined orgasm will do that.

Bucky opened his bedroom door and ushered you and Steve in with a shit eating grin on his face. You sat on his bed and looked up at your friends who were looking increasingly more attractive. “So, you and Bucky had some fun in that closet obviously and we were wondering if you were interested in having that fun again. But this time a little more… interesting” Steve inquired crouching done in front of you. You took a second to even process what he was saying.

Who wouldn’t find Steve hot? I mean the guy is a super solider! You would’ve shouted yes as soon as he stopped talking but the thought of both of them at once? That took some consideration. “No stress if you say no doll. We’re just curious” Bucky soothed, reclining against the wall. Your eyes bounced between the two as you tried to figure out what to say.

“I mean hell yes but I’ve- ive never done this before. I don’t know-“

“Don’t worry we’ll take the lead on this” Steve reassured placing a calming hand on your knee. Looking up at you sweetly. He’s a golden retriever at heart. You just smiled and nodded softly. It was like a flip switched in Steve. He jumped forward pressing his lips to yours roughly. His hands cupped your cheeks as he pushed you onto your back. His lips attaching to your pulse point as he ran his hands over you, exploring your body.

His large hands digging into your soft skin as they travelled along your curves. It was mesmerizing how easily his touch short circuited your brain. Your head rolled to the side and found Bucky still against the wall, watching with a grin. You brought a hand up and motioned for him to come closer. He chuckled and pushed towards you looking you over as Steve kissed every inch of you.

“Lift up” Steve murmured as he thumbed at your shirt. Steve tore your shirt off and latched his lips to the sweep of your breasts, sucking dark marks into your skin. Bucky leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips tasting like whisky and smoke. His softness was as sharp contrast to Steve’s rough lips dragging against you.

Your head was spinning with pleasure as the two men kissed any skin they could reach. “You still have your clothes on” bucky huffed as he motioned at Steve to pull your slacks off. You lifted your hips to help Steve shimmy them off. The noises they made was almost feral as they took in your naked form. “Feels weird being the only naked person here boys” you chuckled nervously.

“We’ll get to that don’t worry. Bucky?”

Bucky switched positions with his friend, slotting himself between your thighs. He grinned down at you as he traced his hand down to your core. His metal hand made contact with your pussy and you jumped at the cold. It was an entirely new feeling, it was crazy. The contrast rode a fine line between pain and pleasure.

You jumped again when Steve tweaked your nipples roughly. It was hard to decide on who to focus on. Both of them were giving you some sort of pleasure. Buckys fingers rub circles over your clit as Steve massaged your breasts. It has you shaking already. “Either fuck me or stop teasing me. Please” you gasped out your eyes rolling back.

“Patience hun” Steve hummed, switching positions with Bucky again, sliding his fingers into you softly. He stroked your walls slowly watching you closely. Bucky had stepped away from you for a second with soft shuffling noises. You were a little too preoccupied to notice though as Steve had started finding all your sweet spots. Chuckling everytime your hips jumped.

Your head rolled to the side and caught sight of Bucky, sitting in a chair, naked, and stroking himself in time with Steve’s fingers. It was a sight for sore eyes, it had you clenching around Steve. “Pay attention to Steve doll” Bucky instructed sharply causing your eyes to snap down to Steve. “I’d love to tease you all night but I’m dying to see that pussy around me. Hands and knees sweet thing” Steve growled, pulling his fingers out and slapping your hip softly.

You snorted, rolling your eyes as you pushed yourself up. Silently buzzing with excitement, FINALLY about to be fucked. You heard the sound of Steve taking his belt off and you looked over your shoulder to take him in. God he was beautiful, Bucky was probably the only person who could rival him. Miles of muscles and soft skin. Not to mention his impressive length, it had your mouth watering. Maybe you could suck him off next time. *next time*

“You ready? I’m not gonna be gentle baby” Steve purred, running his large hands over your hips. “Wouldn’t want you to be Stevie” you teased. He rolled his eyes, pushing his member into you roughly. He immediately starting fucking into you harshly, sending your body forward with every thrust. The noises he was drawing out of you were borderline pornographic.

Your eyes found Bucky again. His face was flushed as he fisted himself, looking at your with lust. When he caught your eyes he was quick to stand. “Open up doll. Wanna see what your pretty mouth can do” he groaned. Your mouth fell open as you tried to stay stable with Steve harshly thrusting into you.

Bucky slid his cock into your mouth, throwing his head back when you started bobbing your head. You used the forward motion from Steve to aid you. Being used like this had you on edge, impossibly close to cumming. You had to fight to stay on your hands and focus on Bucky. Steve’s cock was stroking every sweet spot inside of you, fucking you dumb.

“Are you close sweetheart? Gonna cum on Steve’s cock? Tell me how good it feels” Bucky growled out breathily. Looking down at you with a feral look. “So good. He’s so big inside of me. So close” you moaned out loudly, not ever trying to stay quiet. Steve groaned from behind you, his hips faltering slightly. “M’close” he huffed out.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing sharp circles into your bundle of nerves. You shrieked, trying to jump away at the overstimulation. Bucky swelled inside of your mouth, cumming deep in your throat with a loud groan of your name. Steve fucked into you a few more times before you were shaking and screaming his name. Steve followed close behind you.

You collapsed forward on buckys bed, tired. Steve pulled out of you, your cum mixing together as they fell down your thighs. Bucky helped roll you over, his hands painfully gentle. He pulled you against his side, pressing soft kisses to your face and hair. “So good for us.” He hummed. You jumped when you felt a cold washcloth on your abused cunt. You looked down at Steve who had a bashful look on his face.

“He’s shy afterwards don’t pay him any mind” Bucky snorted. “Oh fuck off barns, if I hadn’t asked it wouldn’t have happened” Steve snapped back, scowling at his lover. You grumbled waving your hand at Steve, trying to get him to lay down too. He giggled at you and found his place on your opposite side and sandwiched you against Bucky.

“Can I stay” you mumbled, uncertain if they wanted you to stay and cuddle. Both men laughed, whole heartedly. “Of course you can dumb ass. One night stands aren’t really our thing” Bucky teased.

“This is perfect” you sighed, cuddling into them.

[theskywaslookingback]

I prithee do tell us of your Tim gets kidnapped as well AU

*kisses you gently on the forehead* ive been in a jonmartim mood lately so pardon that but—

‘Just talk to him,’ Martin had said imploringly, his hand outstretched in supplication, his eyes wide and sad and practically begging.

Tim has never had an easy time saying no to Martin, least of all when he’s being looked at like that.

So Tim had agreed, under the condition that Martin come to play mediator and that Tim could walk away the second Jon tried to turn on a bloody tape recorder.

He should have said no. He should have told Martin to drop it, to leave it alone. He should have stayed home, texted Martin that he wouldn’t be able to make it.

Instead, Tim finds himself sipping coffee outside a cafe with Martin beside him picking at a blueberry muffin and waiting for the one person in the world he wants to see the least.

Martin glances at his phone again, foot bouncing restlessly against the pavement, fingers tapping on the small metal table they’ve managed to snag. Tim drops his hand on top of Martin’s, if only to still his fidgeting for a moment.

“He’s late.” Martin says.

Tim hums in acknowledgment, though truthfully he doesn’t know exactly what time Jon had said he’d meet with them in the first place.

“What if something’s wrong?”

“Like what?” Tim asks flatly.

“I don’t know. What if— what if he’s hurt or something? You saw what he looked like when he came back to the Institute. His hand—“ Martin’s foot thumps frantically against the ground, “I don’t like it.” He says more insistently.

“He’s fine. He probably just got caught up on the tube or something.”

Martin makes a sound of derision and checks his phone again.

“What? You think he’s going to text you if he’s in trouble? ‘Oh Martin please help I’m being kidnapped.’”

“I wish he would,” Martin says sharply, pulling his hand out from under Tim’s, “I would probably worry less.”

“You wouldn’t.” Tim leans back in his chair, swiveling his head to the side so he doesn’t have to look at the pointed glare Martin sends him. After a moment he sees a figure a short ways down the street. A bedraggled fence post of a man wearing a shirt a size too big for him and a jacket that swamps even that. Tim nudges Martin with his foot and jerks his head to the side, “See, I told you-“

Martin looks up from his phone and then his eyes widen and he stands so quickly that it knocks his chair out from under him.

“Martin, what-“

Tim forgets that for as big as Martin is, as gentle and prone to taking his time as he was, that he can move very quickly when he needs to. Martin sprints from the table with a startled cry and Tim whips back around.

Tim can’t see Jon anymore, but he can see the van pulled up in the spot he’d just been standing. Tim barely registers the first word ‘Breekon’ before he’s out of his seat and running after Martin.

There’s a moment where Tim sees Jon struggling between two very large men, a rough looking bag being forced over his head, and then Martin barrels into them.

He hears Martin shout “Jon!” before one of the men recovers and takes a swing at Martin.

He hits him squarely in the stomach, and Tim sees Martin slump, before Tim is there at his side and he takes a swing of his own.

When Tim had been 14 he’d punched a hole in the drywall of his bedroom. He remembers the way the plaster had cracked and yielded under his fist, the solid crack of it under his knuckles. This feels nothing like that, except in the way that it had felt so solid and Tim’s fist had swollen almost immediately, blood vessels in his hand bursting at the impact.

Tim swears and draws his hand back.

He feels something hard and sharp hit the back of his head, and then Tim feels nothing at all.

When Tim wakes again he has no idea where he is. His wrists are tied together so tightly that he can’t feel his fingers and his shoulders scream in pain at the angle he’s been slumped in. He can hear voices, sharp and feminine and grating then low and gruff. Something muffled and angry.

It takes time before Tim’s mind stops spinning enough to make sense of any of it.

There is...something...dressed as a ring mistress. It’s tall, at least seven or eight feet, with long, solid white arms and garish red clothing. It speaks into a whirling tape recorder with no mouth at all, and it laughs a dizzying laugh.

Next to it is Jon, feet bound to the legs of a wooden chair, arms bound behind his back, and a thick gag tied around his mouth. He looks furious and terrified, spitting objections and expletives as this thing drones one about skin and lotion and peeling.

‘No’ Tim thinks sharply, the image of his brother inserting itself into the forefront of his mind. That awful clown, dragging itself along the floor and reaching out so playfully to pull of his brother’s skin.

The thing turns, and Tim realizes he must have said it aloud.

Beside him Martin inhales a sharp breath and starts to breathe a prayer.

“Ah, both awake then I see.” It trills, dropping down unnaturally to stick its head in between where Tim and Martin have been bound.

Tim recoils and feels his shoulder bump into Martin’s.

“Unexpected, but not necessarily a bad thing.” It says, and then turns to address Jon, “always good to have a back up I think! They’ll make some lovely frocks regardless.”

Jon makes a noise of alarm, looking to Tim and Martin.

Tim makes a noise low in his throat.

It reaches out to tap Jon on the nose before it leaves, humming, pulling a heavy door shut behind it.

Silence hangs in the air like dense fog, heavy and thick. It is broken at once by a soft noise from Martin. It’s almost a sob, but not really. A desperate, hopeless noise that cuts off almost before it can begin. “I’m so sorry Tim, Jon, I—“

Jon makes a startled noise from behind his gag and shakes his head so rapidly it’s a wonder it doesn’t detach from his neck. He tries to say something but the gag is too thick and tied too tightly. He repeats it a few times. It sounds like ‘sorry’ and ‘my fault’.

“Yeah,” Tim says numbly, “it is your fault.”

“Tim!”

“What?” Tim shoots back, “You think we’re here because they planned to take all three of us? And now—“ He cuts himself off, biting his tongue. He can’t look at Martin. He refuses to look at Jon.

Jon just makes those muffled noises into his gag again.

“Just— shut up, Jon. Just stop.”

The silence that descends again is sharp and biting. It eats at Tim, the anger in him boils and boils until it dies all at once under an ocean of shame and stark terror. They are all going to die here and there will be no one to mourn them.

“Don’t.” Martin says very softly after a long time. “Don’t let the last things we say to each other be said out of anger.” He leans into Tim’s side, hesitantly.

Tim goes limp, letting Martin take his weight, his head falling to his chest. “Okay...” he says after a long time, his voice cracking, “...okay...”

Jon makes a soft sound again, almost a whimper, and for the first time in a very long time Tim wishes he could hold him in his arms again.

It would be a very long time before he would be able to do so.

[thirsty-flygirl]

Touch Me

Formerly The Textile Series

A Javier Peña x f! Reader Romance

Rating: Explicit - language, sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll. You know the drill, no one under 18 allowed.

Word Count: 2168

A/N: Look, it’s no secret that I would let Javi absolutely ruin me so here is The Textile Series, back again with a few changes, so I can simp some more over my favorite DEA agent.

******

Part IV: Leather

You slammed the shot glass down, proudly popping the lemon between your salt-swollen lips. Tequila always tasted good and, with one of Escobar’s most notorious sicarios now in US custody, it tasted even better.

“C’mon, Javi, take a shot with me,” you shouted across Murphy to your other partner, who offered you his signature smirk, the corner of his lips lifting as he regarded you. Steve placed a palm against your face and playfully pushed you back, grimacing.

“Christ, woman, you’re gonna make me go deaf,” he complained. You poked a finger into his ribs, gleefully watching as he doubled over. “Ah! No tickling, that’s not playing fair and you know it.” He clambered off the barstool and pointed to the now-empty seat. “Sit. That way you don’t have to scream at Javi.”

You shuffled about and made yourself comfortable on the stool, offering Javier a grin. His smirk shifted into a full-blown smile, that sweet little dimple popping, and your stomach flipped at the sight. Your feelings for Javier were getting out of control, strengthening each day you spent together. You’d nearly kissed him right there at the President’s ball last night, in front of your superiors, not giving a second thought to the damage it could affect on your career. You had worked hard, damn hard, to get where you are, despite the sexism and harassment you’d received because you were a woman. Hell, Steve and Javier were two of only a few men you could think of that didn’t treat you like your only worth was between your legs.

But there you were, hunting down Colombia’s most notorious drug lord, and all could do was simper like a teenager every time Javi smiled.

“You’re drunk,” Javi offered, shifting in his seat to lean on the bar next to you. His elbow brushed against yours, leaving your skin tingling from where your bare skin met. As usual, the top buttons of his shirt were undone, leaving his chest on display. Your eyes roved over his form hungrily, slipping down to see the smattering of dark hair on his chest, before settling on his gorgeous face.

Up close, Javier was disarmingly beautiful. His dark hair fell over his forehead as he leaned into you, eyes searching yours as though they could see every secret etched on your heart. A smattering of freckles dotted his face, barely visible, but you had stared so long and so hard at him that you had every perfect imperfection memorized. His hand wrapped loosely around his tumbler of whiskey and you couldn’t help but imagine that hand wrapped around yours, tethering you to him as you finally gave into your desires.

“I’m not,” you finally managed, finding yourself inching closer to him, a coil of desperate need beginning to unfurl within you. Taking his glass, you let your fingers brush against his, watching his pupils dilate. You took a sip of the biting liquor, letting it trail a path of fire down your throat. “I’m just feeling good.”

Javi reached up to wipe a drop of whiskey from your lips with his thumb, raising an eyebrow. “Feeling good, hmm? And why’s that?”

You let out a soft whimper at his touch, just loud enough for Javier to feel the vibration on your skin. His eyes darkened and he let out a deep sigh. “You’re gonna get me in fucking trouble one of these days.”

The two of you sat staring stupidly at each other, as though you were the only two people in the crowded bar. Heart pounding and cunt throbbing, you let your fingers settle on his thigh, trailing them toward the seam of his jeans and so close to the place you felt pressed against you last night.

You leaned forward and closed the distance, whispering in your partner’s ear “I heard you like—”

“—Okay, it’s time to go,” Steve thrust his arm between the two of you, setting his empty beer bottle on the worn, wood bar with a loud thump. You and Javi sprung apart like kids caught necking, a wave of embarrassment crashing over you along with the realization that you had been so wrapped up in Javier that you’d forgotten you were in public.

Javi pulled back like he’d been punched, the naked desire written on his face shifting back into a closed, unaffected expression. Nodding at Steve, he avoided your eyes and stood.

“Yeah, it’s late.”

Your stomach lurched at the speed with which Javi could turn off any sign of being interested in you. It was like hot and cold with him, and you were starting to wonder if he even thought of you as more than a potential fuck. You weren’t blind; you knew exactly how your partner managed to get such reliable intel. It wasn’t like you could fault him - you had no claim on him and you knew he was just trying to get one step ahead of Escobar. But the thought of his body bringing another woman the kind of pleasure that you could only imagine, while you lay in your bed at night writhing on your fingers? That was enough to send a wave of jealousy surging through your veins.

You clambered off the stool, leading the way to the door in silence. If Javi wasn’t affected by you, well, you could at least act as if you felt the same. You emerged from the warm bar into the cool night air sweeping over your heated skin like a balm. You continued walking down the street toward the Embassy apartments; the bar wasn’t far from where all of you lived and, while Steve had driven over after work, you wanted to clear your head a bit. Decidedly ignoring their calls to “get in the damn car” (Javi’s words, not yours), you managed to get nearly a block before a hand closed over your elbow.

“What the hell are you doing?” Javi demanded, his dark eyes flicking around to the dark, run-down buildings surrounding you. As much as you wanted to fall into his arms, you pulled away and continued meandering down the street toward your apartment.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you called back flippantly, “I’m walking home!”

Javi groaned in a mixture of exasperation and defeat, jogging a few steps to catch up to you. “Not alone, you aren’t,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Here, at least take my jacket,” he ordered, shrugging off his worn, leather coat and placing it around your chilled shoulders. He sighed loudly as you continued walking, calling after you. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

You spun around in a circle with your arms out, laughing into the night. “I’m a pain in YOUR ass? Javier Peña, you are, without a doubt, the most confusing, irritating man I’ve ever met!” You continued down the street shaking your head and laughing into the night while you continued your rant.

"What I don't understand," you threw over your shoulder in his direction, "is how you can just change direction and act like we don't have anything here. . . like you weren’t about five seconds from fucking me right there in the bar. . . .” Trailing off, you felt the fight leave you. Exhaustion crept through you in its place, and all you wanted now was to get home and sleep your buzz off.

“Hell, maybe I’m just imagining things,” you mumbled tiredly.

You heard Javi's steps come up beside yours, somehow felt his warmth even from feet away. You hated the feeling of tears building in your eyes. The last thing you wanted was to be an emotional wreck in the face of Javi's aloofness. His warm hand closed around your elbow once again, but this time you let him pull you back.

“You think this is just some goddamn game to me?” Javier whispered fiercely, tugging your arm so that you fell forward against him. His free arm curled around your waist, holding you in an approximation of the exact position you had been in while dancing last night.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he gritted out, those deep, brown eyes glittering with fire. Javi brought his hand up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while he continued, and all you could do was stand there, transfixed by his words and the sheer emotion behind them. “You think it’s easy for me to stay away? To act like I’m not thinking about you every goddamn minute of the day?" He shook his head with a defeated expression.

“All I want is to have you,” he continued, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just under your ear. He paused and your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for the moment when you would finally feel his lips on yours.

Without warning, he released you, leaving you cold and wanting as your eyes flew open. Looking at his face, you saw pain etched in every line, agony reflecting in his eyes.

“But I can’t give you what you want.”

He turned away, looking down the street, jaw clenched. You felt tears prick your eyes, frustrated with his words. “Javi,” you began, reaching out, “You’re what I want, I don’t need—”

“No,” he insisted, refusing to meet your eyes. “I need to catch Escobar, that’s the only thing that matters. I’ve been so distracted and I—” He broke off, his hand coming up to massage at his neck in a gesture so familiar it hurt. He dropped his head with a frustrated sigh and gently pushed at your shoulder.

“Come on, we need to get home.”

You let Javier walk a few steps ahead of you, mind spinning and heart squeezing painfully in your chest. You had felt so warm in his arms, so alive, like every one of your nerve endings buzzed when you were pressed against his body. Now, even with the worn leather of Javi’s jacket pulled around you, you felt chilled, lonely, incomplete.

Down deep, you knew Javier Peña was a selfless man. He wanted to do good, be good, but always felt like he was falling short. He had one mission in Colombia: to capture Pablo Escobar. Anything beyond that was unnecessary, a distraction; something you understood well.

But your heart was selfish - you wanted both. To find Escobar and have him extradited and locked up with a maximum sentence, definitely. But on those lonely nights and the moments in-between when you could imagine something other than the gritty underworld of Colombian drug trafficking, you wanted Javier. Wanted his arms around you, his mouth against yours. You wanted to trace the lines of his neck with your tongue, wanted to run your hands down his torso, then lower, lower, until you breathlessly gripped him and slid down, finally finding home in the middle of the madness.

At an impasse and emotionally drained, you stayed silent for the remainder of your walk, watching Javi turn his key in the security door and shuffling in behind him. You began up the stairs, the feeling of Javier’s gaze burning through you, before you remembered the coat curled around your body.

“Oh, I forgot,” you mumbled, moving to the bottom step while shrugging the garment off. You held it out to Javier, keeping your eyes on the floor, silently begging him to just take it so you could lock yourself in your apartment and break down in private.

“Keep it,” Javi replied, the gravel in his voice still sending a thrill of arousal through your body despite the fact that you felt like he was slipping away from you. "Something to remember me by when we get out of this shithole."

You smiled sadly, reaching out to place a hand gently against his chest, your palm settled over the steady beat of his heart.

Javier stared at you, the longing in his eyes so tangible you couldn't stop the tears from falling. He gently swiped them from your cheeks, a sad smile on his lips.

"Don't cry over me, Sweetheart. I'm not worth your tears."

He leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, letting his full lips linger for a moment before taking a step back, the inches between you feeling like an impassable chasm. You stood silently, afraid that the tenuous grip you held on your emotions would break if you tried to speak. Javier turned and entered his apartment, never giving you a backwards glance, and you were left standing on the stairs alone.

With no reason to hold back you let your tears fall, your knees giving way as you sat down hard on the dirty step beneath you. You buried your face in the bundle of soft leather you held, weeping over a love you never had in the first place. Eventually, once your sobs calmed, you made your way up the stairs to your apartment and fell into bed exhausted, still clutching Javier’s jacket in your arms.

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ touya todoroki x reader → ❝safe in your arms❞

summary: your bleeding shivering and scared you stumble to the last place you thought you’d go for safety inspired by @one-lonely-whumperfly post word count: 1.9k+ tags/warnings: injury mention, blood mention, mention of being drugged, angst, fluff, light enemies to lovers a/n: ive been super unmotivated to write but this was a lot of fun so shoutout to this prompt. also it’s super cold here. hope everyone is doing well.

Dabi was enjoying a quiet night at his apartment. It wasn’t a nice place and it wasn’t in a nice neighborhood but it was the place he called home. Being around the league could be too much at times so it was nice to get away and have time alone.

He was laying across his dingy couch with a plastic cup of cheap whiskey in hand as he watched whatever was on TV when he heard banging at his door.

Dabi let out a huff as he stood up, if Toga was here to bother him again he was going to have to move and hide his new address. Opening up his front door ready to scold Toga the words disappeared from his mouth at the sight in front of him.

There you stood, slouched against the wall. Blood smeared across your face, a foggy look in your eyes, and fear and exhaustion rolling off you in waves.

There was a lot to wonder in such a small amount of time. What happened? Why did you come here? How did you even know where he lived? Granted he didn’t have time to consider these things as you were currently falling to the ground.

Dabi reached out to grab you, his arms wrapping around your waist just in time. He pulled you up letting you rest your weight on him so that you could stand.

“I didn’t take you as the type to show up at my place and fall for me.” He teased. Was it the right time for a joke, no, but he was a villain he wasn’t supposed to care about those things. Not to mention the anxious wave rolling through him was unbearable and cracking a poorly timed joke was an easy way to cope. The smirk on your bloodied lips reassured the worry of offending you that he pretended wasn’t there. Despite your acceptance of his joke, your reply was serious.

  “Didn’t know where else to go.” You rasped out. There was a rawness to your answer. There was none of that hero bravado. Just fear. It stirred something in him that he had been trying to pretend wasn’t there for a long time. It was easy to brush off when you were standing tall throwing his snarky banter back at him with the same level of wit he had thrown it at you with. There was something terrifying in your vulnerability that he couldn’t exactly place. Or at least he pretended like he couldn’t place it.

“Not sure if this would even be my first choice.” He said as he readjusted getting a better grasp on you. It was tempting to pick you up and carry you over the threshold of his apartment like a princess but he resisted. With your arm over his shoulder, he helped you to his uncomfortable couch, placing you down on it. Turning on the light he tried to get a better look at you.

Squinting from the brightness of the light only made things look worse. The blood on your face was still fresh, dripping down onto your clothes. Casual clothes. He wasn’t sure if he had ever seen you in anything other than your hero costume.

He took your chin between his fingers with a softness he didn’t even know he was capable of anymore, even more, surprising was how you didn’t flinch away from his touch. He wasn’t sure if that was some form of trust from you or just a sign of how out of it you were. There had to be some explainable reason you were here and not at a hero’s house or the hospital.

Looking at the cuts on your face he felt an anger rise in him that he didn’t expect. He wasn’t an innocent man, he had done this to people, he had probably done this to you at some point. Why was this upsetting him?

“Stay here, let me grab some stuff.” He said before going to the bathroom and grabbing his first aid kit from underneath the sink along with some wash clothes covered in warm water. Returning he knelt on the ground in front of you. Your eyes were closed and you were swaying back and forth even seated on the couch. He didn’t know anything about what happened but he had a bad feeling that someone had slipped you something.

“Tell me what happened.” A part of him was dying to know but he also knew you would need something to distract you from the pain of your wounds being cleaned up. Your eyes opened up and you stared at him blankly for a moment.

“Um, I- It-” You took a moment to get started. “I was at a bar. I was supposed to meet my friend. It was supposed to be a girl’s night, I got all ready, I even put on my favorite shirt.” You said looking down sadly at the black blouse you were wearing that was now covered in blood. Dabi carefully wiped away the blood on your face with the warm cloth looking for the wounds. “They couldn’t make it, hero emergency. I thought I’d at least stay for another drink since I was already there and dressed up.”

“Typical heroes, always running off.” Dabi scoffed.

“There was this guy, I didn’t think anything of it. I- I just wanted to finish my drink and go home but he started talking to me.” You said closing your eyes for a moment like you were trying to remember it all. “I thought he was maybe a fan. He wouldn’t stop talking to me, he got me a drink. I didn’t really want it but I didn’t want to be rude.”

“I would think a hero like you would be more careful.” Dabi scolded as finished cleaning up the cuts on your face. The thought of some guy bothering you made him sick which was unexpected. He moved on to cleaning the wounds on your face.

“I- I didn’t think he was dangerous.” You said in a small voice. Dabi paused, his hand resting on your chin tilting your gaze to his. For a moment he was pulled into your eyes, the warmth there even under the fear that still lingered. “I got up to leave, I was outside but my head was spinning. I didn’t drink that much, I knew something was wrong but I could barely stand up. Someone grabbed me, there was no one around, they pulled me into the alleyway there and I couldn’t do anything. My quirk wouldn’t work right, I couldn’t do anything to protect myself.”

The thought of you defenseless was far more upsetting than he could fathom. You hesitated to say what happened next, not that you really needed to, it was clear on the wounds that he was cleaning what they had done.

“Do you know who it was?” He asked trying to keep his voice even. The anger rising in him was hard to control, not that he was used to controlling himself.

“A local crime boss, or at least his guys.” You said. “I’ve been trying to stop him. He’s been using people, using their fear to get money and control from them. I’m going to stop him but he tried to stop me first I guess.”

Dabi made a note, it wouldn’t be hard for him to find him. Especially if he framed it as a business proposition from the league. That could wait, right now he just wanted to help you. How odd that was for him.

“Can’t let your guard down when you mess with underhanded criminals like that.” He said.

“What about criminals like you?” You asked. Your tone was teasing but he could hear the edge of honest interest in your voice.

“I’m a lot more straightforward. No fun beating your heroic rival when they’re already roughed up.” He said as he placed a bandage on your cheek. You had a few scratches on your face light bruises were already forming on your skin. “Let me get you some pain killers.”

Dabi returned with a glass of water and some pills before he went back to his room to find clothes you could wear. He grabbed a black shirt and some shorts.

“You can stay the night here.” He said. “Change into something more comfortable.”

You looked down at the clothes for a moment, possibly reconsidering the situation that you had put yourself in. To his surprise, you took the clothes and shakily stood up. He pointed you in the direction of his bathroom.

Dabi went into his room trying to tidy it up. Making the bed, grabbing the trash off the nightstand. He couldn’t recall the last time he had cleaned up for someone. He never cared what people thought of him or his place and it wasn’t like he had very many guests.

He turned at the sight of you in the doorway. You looked good in his shirt. You looked better in general, you had cleaned off the blood and grime that had been leftover and you looked a little more coherent now. He was still waiting for you to realize you were crazy for being here but you were still here.

You moved to lay down on the bed, pulling the thin covers over yourself.

“I’m cold.” You said.

“I don’t have any more blankets.” He replied. It wasn’t like he even needed blankets, he never got cold.

Before he could do or say anything else you grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into bed. For a moment he laid there in shock as you scooted closer to him.

The silence wasn’t awkward or tense but he found himself wondering if he should say something to break it. Social anxiety wasn’t something that Dabi faced often, you seemed to be putting him through a lot of unfamiliar moments tonight.

“Why did you come here?” He asked finally. The question had been on his mind all night. The pause of silence made him wonder if you had fallen asleep.

“I was scared and felt alone, I could barely think straight I knew I needed to go to someone but for some reason, your face was the only one in my mind.”

Dabi glanced over to you, you were looking up at him with a soft look in your eyes that made his heart flutter. Having you here tonight made him realize that his fascination with you was past that of a villain has for their rival. His interest in you was resembling a crush more than anything else at this point.

The fact that in a vulnerable state you thought to go to him, no you weren’t even thinking it was an instinct that brought you here.

“You’re safe here.” He said quietly, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in. Your head rested against his chest and the way you nuzzled against him made his cheeks warm. Your eyes closed and your breathing evened and he knew you had fallen asleep.

One night had changed so much for him. He wasn’t sure if you would wake up tomorrow and regret coming here or if just maybe you felt similar to him. The thought was scary but for now, there was nothing he could do except enjoy the weight of you in his arms and think about how good it would feel to incinerate the person who had hurt you.

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis-but-more-otaku @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bkghatesyou @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh  @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia @moon-write @todominica @why-so-red @kvichisaki @curiouslilbeast @izukukozume @maat-the-prescriptive

[closhelby]

HER. - Thomas Shelby

Smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: it’s peaky blinders, with smut

Word Count: 2472

AN: this is my first time writing smut, please give me any tips pls, it’s appreciate. It’s probably shite.

::::::

She always was on his mind. The woman, that always read between the lines, always two steps ahead of him, and had an incredible eye for business. She had left him years prior, leaving for a top business school in London. they never had a title, a label on their relationship, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that they always, somehow, gravitated back to one another. Often people, especially Polly, would say that there was no way two people would be so alike, strong headed but only rarely clashed. 

However y/n’s degree had finished and she was coming back to Small Heath for a period of time before she was going to figure out what exactly what she wanted to do. Y/n was actually great friends with the Shelby family, since growing up with them, living just down the road, they practically lived together. Y/n was actually younger than Tommy, she was ages with Ada and John. They were in the same class throughout school, Ada and y/n regularly wrote to each other, updating each other on Ada’s eventful life as a Shelby still in Small Heath and y/n’s very exciting studying life in London. 

They had actually planned to meet up, for a nice and quiet drink at the Garrison on her return. The thoughts swirled in y/n’s mind as she approached the Garrison, it had just gone 6pm, and she knew as it was a Friday, she did have a possibly of bumping into her first, arguably her only love.  Pushing the thoughts to the back of her head, she pushed open the door to see a fairly crowded Garrison. 

“Ah, y/n, how was London?” Harry shouted, from behind the bar. Y/n smiled at him, walking over to Ada sitting in the back corner. “It was good Harry, nice to be back in this clear Birmingham air”. He chuckled slightly, “Whiskey coming up love”. 

Y/n nodded, taking a seat next to Ada, giving her a cuddle, “Unsure if ive missed this place or not” y/n laughed slightly, eyes scanning the pub, looking for the one man she questioned if she did want to bump into. The pair was throwing back drinks like it was going out of fashion, knowing they would both regret this in the morning. Apparently, Ada wasn't allowing y/n to go back home, and in fact y/n didn't have a home yet and wasn't willing to go back to her parents, so Ada was insisting that she stayed at hers until y/n found a suitable place. Y/n didnt put up a fight, despite them both being hot heads, and taking absolutely no shit from anyone, men or woman, y/n didn't argue. She was actually really thankful for her. 

They eventually stumbled into the house in the early hours of the morning, their laughs echoing throughout the silent house. 

::::

The sun caught y/n directly in the eyes, quickly awoke y/n from her sleep. Her head felt as though someone had been hitting her head against the floor multiple times. Y/n continued to lay there, turning away from the sun, trying to keep the contents of her stomach from getting sprayed all over her and the sleeping Ada. She made an attempt at moving, sat with her head in her hands as she was trying to give herself words of encouragement to get up and make herself something to eat. 

“Fuck sake, why do we do this to ourselves?” Ada moaned from behind her. Y/n scoffed, “ Your bloody idea”.

Quickly standing up, in hope she could get it over with quickly. The room continuing to spin, as she attempted to walk to the door. Ada following closely behind. 

They both sat slumped over the dining room table, as they attempted to sober up and embrace the oncoming hangover. John now present, laughing at the two dying woman in front of him. 

“Good night?”

“Always.” Ada grumbled.

Pol placed a plate in front of them, toast with jam, “Does Tommy know your back? 

Eyes falling onto y/n from every person in their, “No.” answering quietly. 

Attempting to change the subject, “Told myself I would start looking for a new job today, since I shall be staying here for a decent period of time.”

John raised his eyebrow, “Tommy’s looking for a new secretary.” A slight smile on his face, “You've got a good background, business and that”.

“hm, I don't think so Johny boy”.    

“Don’t say no too soon, your a good asset to the business.” Pol added. No one was ever in y/n’s corner more than Pol, they would bang heads sometimes, as neither of them would back down. But she accepted y/n was the only one that had the best interest for Tommy.

The front door closed, and there he stood, the room turning to face Tommy, silence filling the room, then he broke it, “Heard you were back.”

“Yeah,” she replied quietly.

“Well, you know where I am if you need that job, I’m sure you’ve already been told,” he spoke, cigarette hanging from his mouth, as he walked away from them and into his office.

Y/n let out a breath, as though she hadn’t been breathing the whole time he was there. Ada smiled at her, placing her hand onto y/n’s, “I’m just going to get ready for the day love,” and off she went upstairs. The boys getting on with their day, and Pol following suit.

Y/n sat collecting her thoughts while trying to tell herself to face her ex lover, who she was still so deeply in love with. She tapped on the door slightly, opening it before opening it, “hi”, seeing his eyes flutter onto her shot tingles throughout her body, his eyes quickly looking away

“You can start tomorrow if you wish, I need a few papers signed and sent tomorrow. I can get your contract drawn up tonight.” He spoke, his eyes still not lifting from the paper in front of him.

“Yes, that’s fine 8am?”

“8.45, shop doesn’t open until 9. And there are others to set it up, that’s not your job.”

Nodding, “I heard you have a new woman.”

At this point he did look up at her, “I heard you had plenty men in London,”

She laughed slightly, nodding before heading to the door, “none were ever a patch on you,” closing the door, leaving a smirk on Thomas Shelbys face.

The following day came around, as y/n got ready for the day. Putting on a formal black tightly fitted dress, flats and pin curled hair. A slight tint of red lippy, remembering it used to be Tom’s favourite. Assuming Tommy wouldn’t be at the shop at this time, she took a whiskey with her placing it on the desk infront of Tommy’s office. The place was silent, despite there being other employees now starting to arrive, something calming about the place, almost the calm before the storm, she thought.

The hour was now around ten thirty, and there was still no sign of Tommy. She had already finished the papers he had left for her on her desk. It wasn’t the usual small Heath lady, she was educated, and to a very high level. y/n was sat twiddling her thumbs, awaiting Tommy’s arrival to get other things done.

“Y/n. My office please,” his voice low, as he stood behind her. She stood up quickly, following him into the private room.

“There’s your contract, if you wish to have a read over it. I see you’ve finished the work I gave given you for the day.”

Y/n took the contract into her hands, scanning for any mistakes or anything to question. But he actually was paying her nearly double the rate of other staff, and just over that the London rate was, “you’ve done your research eh. More than London rates, impressive. The peaky’s are stepping up in the world” Y/n smiled at him, as she placed the documents on the desk, picking up his pen, and signing it. Y/n Y/l/n. Followed with today’s date. That was now it, she was a Shelby Co Ltd employee.

...

The days turned into weeks, spending time with tommy while no one else was looking was becoming a regular thing. She now had her own place, just doors down from the shop. He would regularly call her into the office, and discuss things that he would usually never utter a word about. It had always been that way with them, since they were little, he would confine in her, telling her all the issue and problems he was facing, both in his mind and with others. But it was also coming to her attention that he was still seeing Grace.

Later on in the day, the clock chimes 11pm, as y/n sat listening to the music that takes her back to a child, while sipping a whiskey. The knock of her front door bringing her out of her daydream, she picked up her handgun that she kept on her at all times. Growing up with The Shelby’s, she had to protect herself in someway. She kept it behind her, out of view for anyone who was in front of her, slowly creeping up to answer the door. She swung it open, gun clocked and pointed directly in the face of Thomas Shelby. Not wasted, but defiantly had a few.

“Ah, can never change a Shelby girl eh” He spoke, laughing slightly as she lowered the gun and he stepped inside. 

“Although, I’ve never been a Shelby girl, have I Tom?”

“Depends who you ask.”

She sighed, stepping in to the fire lit living room, “Drink?”

He nodded in response, and y/n began to pour him a whiskey, topping up hers and handing a full glass over to him. “Why are you here?”

He stepped over to her, the closest they had been together since before she left for London. He placed a hand on her back, pulling her head into touch his, their foreheads touching. The sensation ran through her body like the first time they had ever touched. He placed his hand on around the back of her neck, pulling her into him, his lips crashing onto hers. Their tongues intertwining with each others as the kiss started to deepen.  Y/n reached for his jacket, pulling it off his back, before making her way on to unbuttoning his shirt. Tommy pulled the bottom of her nightdress up, y/n only allowing the kiss to be broken to allow it to come over her head. 

Their lips syncing with each other once again as tommy took his now unbuttoned shirt off, moving onto unbuckling his trousers revealing his already hard length. He began to push her back onto the couch, untangling her lace thongs from around her legs. His fingers trailing over her already wet pussy, “Do it” y/n whispered as she pulled his face back up to kiss hers. 

He didn't even wait as he shoved his length into her. Their bodies rocked in sync together, “Tommy...” Y/n moaned, her fingers trailing down his shirtless torso. The stars were starting to align, the room was warm, full of love. It felt as though it was five minutes but in reality it was around fifteen all in.

Their breath shortened as y/n’s back started to arch as she came close to climax, “cum for me”. He spoke, looking at her directly in the eyes as he rocked her world. The love, chemistry, love and lust, all so very present just as it was back how they were before. Both of them moaning in pleasure, as they both came at the same time. The deep breaths and steamy windows showing the passion that had just unfolded. 

::::::::::::::::::::

It was a Friday evening, a week following the night of sin that taken place between Tommy and Y/n. They had still had the talks in private in the office, and on another occasion she was fucked bent over his desk after closing time. Y/n wasn't one to hide her feelings, it would always be present on her face so when it came to facing Grace in the Garrison, it wasn't hard to tell how y/n’s feelings were over her.  

Pol chuckled softly, clocking the glare Grace was on the opposite end of, “If looks could kill” Ada joining in on the hilarity. 

“She would've been killed 8 times over” Y/n replied, turning back to face the women. Whiskey in hand. 

“Feelings still there for him then?” Ada asked. 

“No, I wouldnt say so” y/n lied. 

“Cant lie to a gypsy woman love” Pol laughed, y/n begining to laugh with her when the doors open to reveal Tommy and his two bothers. Tommy’s icy blue eyes scanning the room, a slight smile shooting over to Y/n before approching the bar where Grace was, where he stood there for a good twenty minutes chatting away to her. 

“I cant take this anymore.” y/n looked over to Ada, who was rising her eyebrow while taking a sip of her drink. She was fairly close to them, and y/n being y/n liked to have a slight stir up now and again. She stood up, smile showing on her face as Pol and Ada laughed, watching her approach them both. 

“So, hows your little fling going?” she spok loud enough that Pol, Ada, Arthur and John could hear her. 

“Y/n” Tommy warned. 

“Who are you?” Grace questioned. 

“Y/N,” she responded, leaning herself against the bar, “The woman he has fucked behind your back multiple times this week.”

Pol snorted, almost chocking on her drink, “ I fucking knew it. Gypsy senses never lie.” 

“To be honest with you Grace, you had absolutely no chance when Y/N came back” Ada added. 

At this point, Tommy had moved y/n away from the bar, into the small room, “what are you doing?”

“You cant take the piss out of me, fucking me but then fucking her thinking youll get away with it.” she was pissed, and he could see it in her face. They had never spoke on their feelings toward each other. Everyone knew that it was always each other but there was nothing that compared to them, they always seemed to go back.

“I have always loved you but you left to go to London, I had people follow you. I knew what you were up to so I assumed you would stay down there, I assumed you had moved on.” He spoke, almost showing vulnerability.

“Oh I know. I can remember faces Tom. I think you forget I can see right through you,” she seethed, through her teeth, “what are you going to do about this?”

Tommy cupped her face, pulling her into kiss her.

“I love you.” He mumbled, feeling her smile into their kiss.

“I love you Tom,”

[17wishbones]

“Mugen Train” was such a treat that I HAD to write some short stories with the infamous, focused, and amazing Flame Pillar, Rengoku Kyōjurō. Easily one of my favorite characters. His handsome, flamboyant self needed juuust a smidge of more screen time and it would have been perfect.

S/N: Majority of my fanfics will be written towards women of color. Big FYI. Otherwise, enjoy.

- - - - - - - -  ______________________________________

                                         Kimetsu no Yaiba: Flame Eternal

                               Chapter I: OVERWHELMING CONFESSION

“Good morning, Sunflower!”

“Kyōjurō, please!” You whispered through clenched teeth, “You can’t be scaring me this early in the morning.” The Fire Hashira, Rengoku Kyōjurō, surprised you with a greeting by hanging his head down from the rooftop of the Butterfly Estate.

“My apologies! I wanted to see you as soon as I could.” He jumped down with one hand behind his back. “Congratulations on becoming a Hashira! You have worked hard to get where you are, and that you should be proud of yourself!”

The fire in his eyes burned bright as always. He didn’t know it yet, but he was a driving force in you making it to the ranks, and it wasn’t easy. At all. You were a rare sight in Japan. Everyone still thought of you as a foreigner. No matter how good your Japanese was, not many could understand the concept that people of different colors could be a native to this country.

You have fought for acceptance for a long time, and with the rise of demons, that put unneeded targets on your back. Just like the others, you lost your family to them, and it was but the anger in your heart that brought you here - to avenge those who were killed by demons. You didn’t know if you really had what it took.

Kind and supportive words from Rengoku Kyōjurō had changed a couple of the most important minds, but others were not so keen on the idea. You pushed yourself every day, working and training day in and day out until your body shook with aches. You honestly wanted to give up many times, and tried, but there was someone always pulling you back and helping you to your feet.

“That’s because of you, Kyōjurō.”

He shook his head. “It’s because of you, Sunflower! With perseverance and vigor, you made it through Final Selection and achieved your goals in order to be a Hashira! Therefore, I wanted to be one of the first to congratulate you!”

The confidence and support of his words always made you get “butterflies” in your stomach and your cheeks warm beneath your brown skin. “Stop! You’re making me blush but,” you bowed, “Thank you, Kyōjurō, for everything.”

You had locked your hair months before you trained for the Final Selection. Your hair had been on as much of a journey as you had. It reached down to the shoulder blades. And with these locs, you were in need of a floral decoration to commemorate this special day as you donned your uniform. 

“Now, to get a sunflower-”

“Right!” He handed a small bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite flower that he nicknamed you back during those harsh training days. “For you, _____!”

“Ah!” You received his early morning gift with glee. “Kyōjurō, you shouldn’t have!” One smell and you were hooked. “Thank you so much!” You set them down in the room Shinobu offered you to stay in. You clipped one off and wrapped it up on the left side of your head. “How do I look?”

He looked at you, surprised at first, and then with an ear-to-ear smile. “As beautiful as always, _____!” 

You felt your heart thumping throughout your chest. His words of sincerity always made you feel like you belonged. Not to mention, his fiery gaze upon you held true when he spoke to and of you. “You’re much too kind, Kyōjurō.” Before you attended to your face, Kyōjurō was already before you, wiping away your falling tears.

“You’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Whenever your world began crumbling, he was there and ready to help you get through any self-doubt. He ended up being a shoulder to cry on when you least expected it. He rose to Hashira-dom before you, and yet didn’t leave you behind. You owed him something in return. “N-nothing! I’m happy.” You took hold of his wrists, lowering his hands. “Though I wonder how I’ll ever be able to show you my gratitude.”

“Hmph!” He clasped your hands in one swift motion and stared longingly into your coffee-colored eyes. “Marry me, _____!”

You deadpanned.

Nature filled in the silence.

“I said, “Marry me, _____!”

Your mouth dropped wide open, “MARRY YOU!?” 

“Yes! Do you accept?”

“Wait, wait, wait!” You drew back your hands and stepped back. You rubbed your temples, momentarily confused. Stumped. Dumbfounded. “This is a test of some sort, right? A little bit of an early morning joke to keep me on my toes?”

He laughed heartily. “Not at all!” He locked his gaze on you as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know that you will make a great wife!”

“Kyōjurō, I’m not like you or the others, as clear as they have made it in the past. I wouldn’t want to hinder you or mess up your reputation.”

“Our Master has allowed you to apply to become a Hashira; you worked hard to become a Hashira; and you have become more than a great friend to me. No matter what anyone else says, I have accepted you.” He closed in and held your hands once more. “I knew since training, to which you promised me your hand in marriage.”

“Eh!? You remembered that!?” You questioned. 

“When I saw you at training for the first time. I knew that I had to make you mine! I have waited for this day for a long time. So, I will ask you again. _____.”

You gulped. “Yes, Kyōjurō?”

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“I-I,” your hands were clammy and your world started to spin. ‘What are you going to say? He asked you to marry him! Look, look! So what if you fed him a sweet potato every Friday and fell into his arms a few times? You need to let him down softly. Yeah! That’s it! Just refuse his proposal! He’ll understand-” Your mouth opened before you could finish. “Yes…?” You paused. ‘Bitch, did you just--?’

His aura suddenly grew hot around you both. “Then I promise to make you happy, to protect you, to guide you, and to love you until death!” With overwhelming confessions like this, how could you refuse?

“That’s great! But shouldn’t we--” You made a fatal mistake. “Kyōjurō?” You blinked. “Oh no!” He was gone in a flash! “Kyōjurō, wait!” You shouted as you dashed out of the Butterfly Estate. You only got a quick glimpse of his flaming haori, but he was still so fast! You thought you possibly had him when you ran into the other Hashira, assembled for the Pillar Meeting.

“Ah, _____! I was just about to come and get you for the meeting.” Shinobu came before you with her usually endearing smile. “Congratulations on becoming a Hashira. It’s been a long time since we’ve had anyone enter into the ranks, and for it to be someone as unique as you says something.”

“As if! You were only able to join because of Rengoku, and nothing else.” Obanai hissed from atop a tree branch. You really hated his guts.

“But you can’t deny her strength. She did kill fifty demons in a year and a half. That’s at least impressive, right?” Tengen remarked. He was a nice guy, in a way, so you liked him.

Shinazugawa pointed his sword at you. “As long as she doesn’t get in the way of me killing demons, I could care less.” 

‘And I could care less myself.’ You thought with a frown on your lips.

Mitsuri was at least nice enough to give you a smile and a wave. “You look so pretty in your uniform, _____!” You liked her the most, along with Shinobu.

Giyuu and Muichiro didn’t speak on the matter.

“Thank you to those most kind, and to the others, you’ll just have to get used to seeing me like I have to get used to seeing you. Anyways, I came here looking for Rengoku. Did he pass by yet?”

“By pass by, do you mean standing at the top of the roof behind you?” Tengen pointed out.

You looked confused as you turned around and felt your face just fall into shock as you saw him proudly standing on the rooftop - again - with a wide smile on his lips. “Kyōjurō!”

He gently took hold of you at the waist when you landed in front of him. “I’ve got you, Sunflower!” His eyes burned brighter than they ever had before, and the aura he exuded could be felt from miles away. “Everyone!” He turned to the Hashira below. “Let us welcome _____, our new Hashira, and my soon-to-be wife, to the team!” Everyone’s face cracked. “Treat her like she’s one of our own!”

Really, what would you do without this flamboyant Hashira?

- - - - - - - -

Chapter: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain.      Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

[jeo9n]

Majesty Pt 7 || JJK

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre : Slow burn,Angst,fluff,virgin reader,King JK,futur smut.

Warnings : jungkook and y/n get in a little fight.

Wordcount : 4.8k

previous | next

You woke up the next day in the same position you fell asleep in. It was honestly really comfortable, cuddling with him like this, you didn’t want to get up. But you had to pee really bad, so you slowly started to remove his arms from your waist, hoping he doesn’t wake up.

You sat up once your were free from his grasp, removing the blanket from your legs and slowly getting out of bed. Both of your feet were already touching the carpet when you tried to get up. "Where are you going?" The King asked you in his raspy morning voice, while grabbing your wrist.

He looked so cute like this. Sleepy eyes, his hair all over the place, with a slightly puffy face. He had a small pout on his lips as he looked at you. You wanted to kiss the pout of off his face.

Wait! What’s wrong with you, why are you thinking like this, Y/n.

He squeezed your wrist, interrupting your thoughts. Catching you staring at him. "Uh I have to use to toilet." You answer awkwardly, cheeks turning red. He smirked, letting go of your wrist.

"Alright."

You quickly went to the bathroom. Getting yourself ready for the day and got dressed. Deciding for a light pink dress for today.

As you headed back in the bedroom, the King was sitting at the end of the bed, already dressed and looking at you. You walked past him to get to your side of the bed, to quickly tidy it up a bit. But he stopped you before you even gotten the chance to walk past him, he grabbed your hand on pulled you towards him, making you gasp. You were standing in front of him awkwardly. "What are your plans for today?" He asked you, putting his hands your hips and pulling you even closer so you would stand in between his legs.

"I don’t have any plans for today, your highness." You tell him, picking at your nails nervously. You could feel the heat of his palms burning trough your dress, making your head spin.

He looks up at you, removing his hands from your hips and putting them on your hands instead. "Spend some time with me today." He says, caressing your hands softly.

"Okay." You nod. Spending some time with him again might won’t be that bad. I mean, he’s your husband. You should spend time with him, right?

You were on walk trough the castle with the King. He showed you all kinds of rooms that the castle had to offer, but one stood out to you the most. It was the library. You always loved books. They made you feel safe, they made you feel like you could escape reality, even just for a short while.

So, that’s where you found both of you right now. You’re walking around, admiring all the beautiful and old books that were standing on the dark wood shelves. The library was huge, you’ve never seen a library this big. You loved it here. The King was standing behind you, just looking at you, loving the way your face lights up whenever you see a book you like.

"You love it here, don’t you?" He asks you with smile on his face, leaning against one of the tables that stand in the middle of the room, with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Yes!" You turn around quickly with a big smile on your face. Before turning around again to look at the shelves full of books once again. "You should’ve showed me this place sooner." You say, making him laugh. "I would’ve, if I knew you loved books this much." He answers, walking towards you.

You can feel the warmth of his body against your back. You turn around, already knowing he’s standing behind you. "I can’t believe you’ve kept this beautiful place hidden from me - what else do you keep hidden from me, your highness?" You tell him jokingly.

He laughs, showing you his cute bunny smile that you haven’t seen before. He looks cute this way, nose scrunching up while he laughs, showing you his beautiful smile. You feel your heart beating faster at the sight.

"Nothing." He says as he stopped laughing. "Come on, let’s sit down for a bit." Grabbing your hand, and leading you both to one of the tables.

You both sit down. The King sitting in front of you, never looking away from you. You can feel your cheeks staring to blush, so you look away. You can’t handle eye contact very well.

"You know." He starts, making you look back at him again. "Back at the competition, you said you’ve never been with a man before, right?" He asks you and you nod. "What do you mean by that?" He asks you once again. You look away again.

He knows exactly what that means, judging by look on his face. "I think.. you know what that means, your highness." You tell him, without looking at him.

"No, I don’t. Tell me, Y/n, tell me what you mean." He tells you with a smirk on his face.

You bite your lip nervously. You don’t know how you should tell him. I mean, this is nothing to be ashamed of, don’t get me wrong. But he obviously knows, so why is he asking you to explain? "It means," you huff. "It means that I’ve never done something with a man, your highness. The only thing I’ve ever done, was holding hands with a boy once! And that was when I was like 5 or something." You tell him, avoiding eye contact once again.

"Not even Kissing?" He asks you and you shake your head. "How come?"

This time you look at him. "Ive always wanted my first kiss to be with someone I love. Not with just anyone." You shrug. "A kiss for me is more than just kissing, it’s being intimate with another person, it’s sharing your feelings for one another. Sharing it with just anyone wouldn’t be as special as with the person you love, you know?"

He nods. "Would you kiss me?" He asks, tilting his head to the side.

Your eyes widen. Your face suddenly turning red. "Uh I don’t know." You laugh awkwardly.

"Have you ever had any sexual thoughts before?" He asks you suddenly with a serious face. Completely ignoring his other question. "I mean, your not a little girl anymore. You had to have some thoughts about sex at one point." If your face was red before that, than your face must be on fire right now. His question startled you, not expecting him to ask you something like this.

Of course you thought about sex before, everyone does. That was a stupid question.

But why is he suddenly asking you all of this.

"Uh, yeah... sometimes. But don’t worry! Im not a pervert or something." You chuckle awkwardly. Embarrassed that you even told him this. He looks you straight in the eyes, his eyes holding something you cannot read.

He smirks at you once again. "Oh, I’m sure you’re not the perverted one here, Y/n." You furrow your eyebrows at that, not knowing what he means. "Have you ever touched yourself before?" He continues.

You almost choke on your own spit. You weren’t expecting him to ask you someone like this - Why does he keep asking you all these sexual questions? You really don’t want to answer this question. You try to come up with something different, to ask him something different instead. But you see that he’s still waiting for your answer, arching his perfect eyebrow at you. "Have you?" He asks again.

"Uh- I... i haven’t, your highness." Lying him straight in the face. You have touched yourself before, yes. But that’s something you don’t like to talk about, you never talked with anyone about this kind of stuff. That’s something too intimate for you. You’re sure he wouldn’t want to talk about wether he touches himself or not either.

He hums, obviously not believing your lie. "Does that bother you, your highness? That i don’t have any experiences?" You ask him worriedly. Your question makes him furrow his eyebrows at you. "Why would that bother me? Because your a virgin?" He shakes his head. "I like that you’re a virgin - I like that you’re untouched, Y/n. I like it more than I like to admit." He tells you, seeing something shift in his eyes again.

His words Relief you. You thought, maybe he wanted a experienced girl, someone that knows what to do in bed. But he chose you. So, it clearly doesn’t bother him. "Okay."

"Do you have any questions for me?" He asks you this time. You don’t really have any questions to ask him right now - no, wait! You do.

"I noticed that your parents weren’t at our wedding, were they busy?" You ask. You wanted to ask him this right after the wedding, but you forgot about it.

"Ah no, they weren’t busy, Y/n. They’re dead." He says, looking at you. You feel your heart shutter at his words. You did not know this! If you knew, then you wouldn’t have brought this up. "My parents died in an accident when I was very young."

This breaks your heart. You feel so sorry for him, knowing that he lost his parents at a young age. That must’ve been so hard for him. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you lost your mother, and he lost both of his parents at once, that’s so sad. "I am so sorry for you loss, your highness! I shouldn’t have brought this up. Please forgive me." You quickly apologize.

"It’s okay. It’s not your fault, You don’t have to apologize." He tells you honestly, which makes you relax. "Also, stop calling me your highness. We’re married, Y/n. You don’t have to keep calling me that."

"Oh, then what should I call you?" You ask him.

"Jungkook, You can call me Jungkook. Or what ever you prefer." He says, while reaching out and grabbing your hand. "What I prefer? What would you like me, to call you?" You ask him as he caresses your hand.

He grabs your hand a little tighter, making you look down at both of your hands. "We’ll talk about another time." He smirks. "For now, you can call me Jungkook."

You smile. "Okay... Jungkook." You tell him, and he smiles back at you, showing his pretty bunny smile again.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

It’s been a few days since the day at the library. Ever since then, Jungkook has been really nice to you. Always asking how your day was, if you ate enough or if you got enough sleep. He also tries to spend as much time with you as possible whenever he wasn’t busy.

Right now your having breakfast with him. Maria baked some delicious food for you both to eat. You were eating your food slowly, trying t enjoy the food as much as you can. Jungkook seemed to be in a hurry tho. He ate his food quite fast, you were scared he was going to choke on it. "Slow down. Why are you eating so fast?"

His fork was inches away from his opened mouth, about to shove his last piece of food into it. But he stopped, once he heard you speak. He removed the fork from his mouth and looked at you. "I need to hurry up. I have some important things to do today!" He tells, shoving his fork right into his mouth.

His cheeks were stuffed with food. The sight reminded you of a bunny once again, cute. His wide doe eyes sparkled under the chandelier that was hanging above you two. He looked so innocent, he looked like an eager child that tried to eat all their candy before they get caught by their mother, not like a King.

"What kind of important things?" You ask him, putting down your glass of orange juice.

"I have to get some things done, things that I should’ve done a lot sooner." He answers you, while he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"Oh, okay." You murmur. "Can I come with you? - You said I wasn’t allowed to leave the castle alone again. And... I don’t really have anything to do here. Can I please come along with you?" You ask carefully. He shakes his head right away before he speaks up. "No. Those are things that I have to do alone!"

You huff, letting your shoulders fall. Disappointed with his answers. "But why? I’m fine with just coming along. I won’t talk, I promise! I won’t do anything to bother you. Please let me come with you. Im so bored here all the time." You pout, and he smiles at your reaction. "No, Y/n. You stay home! I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see those things that are gonna happen today."

His answer confuses you. It’s just work. What does he mean you don’t want to see it? "What do you mean?" You ask him, confused look on your face.

He looks at you amused. Not understand why you want to come along so bad. "Hmm how should I explain." He says, tapping his finger against his chin. "These things... they’re a little dangerous, you see. I don’t want my beautiful wife to get hurt during those things. That’s why you should stay home!" He explains to you, saying those last words a little more clearer. But your still confused. But you don’t question him any further, accepting that he doesn’t want you there with him.

"I understand." You nodd. "I’m sorry for asking, your highness." He raises his eyebrows at you. "Hey! I told you to stop calling me that." He tells you in a serious tone, but still having a smile on his lips.

"Right! Im sorry, Jungkook." You laugh.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jungkook left for work 30 minutes after you both were done with breakfast. He said, he wouldn’t be out for long, telling you not to miss him too much when he left. You rolled your eyes at, which earned you a laugh from him.

You literally had nothing to do today. You were in your room most of the time, waiting for Jungkook to come home. You even took a nap, hoping the time would go by faster. But he still wasn’t home when you woke up. You decided to get out of bed, not wanting to fall asleep again. You walked towards the library, wanting to read a book that you saw there a few days ago, when you were in there with Jungkook. But you found out the doors were locked when you tried to open them. Weird.

Since the library was locked, you decided to walk down, smelling something delicious coming from the kitchen. "What Are you cooking?" You asked Maria when you reached the kitchen. She jumped a little when she heard you coming from behind her. "Dear, you almost gave me a heart attack." She says, rubbing her hand over her chest.

You felt sorry, it wasn’t your intention to startle her. But you couldn’t help a little laugh to come out of your mouth. "I’m sorry, Maria. I thought you heard me coming down." You laugh, giving her a small hug to apologize. She glanced at you jokingly. "I didn’t. I was focused on cooking, my dear." She explains. "But, to answer your question. Im cooking kimchi stew, it’s the King’s favorite." She says with a smile on her face, showing you the food she just made.

Your mouth started to water, once she took the lid off the pot. It looked as amazing as it smelled. It probably tasted amazing as well. "That looks so good!" You tell her, before she quickly put the lid back on. "Does that mean the King will be home soon? I mean, since your preparing the food already."

She looks at you and smiles, nodding her head. "Yes! He should be home soon - Why? Are you missing him already?" She jokes, and you laugh, shaking your head at her. "No, it’s not that. It’s just really boring without him here." You quickly explain. "Doesn’t it ever get boring for you?"

She points her finger at her chest. "For me? No, no. I have a lot of stuff to do everyday. It never gets boring for me. If it ever gets boring for me, it just means I’m doing my job right." She shrugs. She’s right. Of course it doesn’t get boring for her. If you worked here, it probably wouldn’t get boring for you either.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You went out into garden, wanting to get some fresh air to wake you up a bit, since you were still a little tired from your nap. You sat on the bench, the one were you had to sleep on a few weeks ago.

You were enjoying slight breeze against your skin, while the sun was shining down on you. A perfect mixture of both, hot and cold. You heard some rustling behind you, making you turn your head around to look where it came from. Your eyes scanned around the garden, before they landed on a bush. There you saw some movement, and then the rustling. You got from the bench and walked towards it, curious about what could be hiding in the bush. Crouching down, once you were in front of it. You reached out your hand to push back back the branches that were blocking your sight. The movement stopped right always, once you touched one of the branches. Whatever it was, probably scared of you. You kept pushing back a few branches, until you found what you were looking for.

There was a small grey bunny with floppy ears, in a corner far away from you, hiding from you. You gasped in excitement, you weren’t expecting it to be a bunny. It looked so cute, so small with its floppy ears that were a little too big for their head. You reached out your hands trying to pick the bunny up. But it pushed itself deeper in the corner once you did. Poor bunny, it was probably scared to death. You didn’t want to harm it. You reached out your hands again, trying to pick it up before it could run away from you.

You tried to comfort the bunny, once it was in your arms. Patting it, trying to calm it down. You could feel their heart beating really fast, you felt sorry. You didn’t want to scare it. The bunny looked really small, it was probably still a baby. You wonder how it got here. It should be with their mother, not alone in some garden.

You walked back inside with the bunny still in your arms, not wanting to let it down so it could run away again. You grabbed some carrots and some water for it, once you were inside. You went to your room to feed the bunny, without having to fear it will run away from you. You put the bunny down and held the carrot out for it, checking if it was hungry. The bunny took a few sniffs of the carrot immediately started eating away. "Aw poor you. You were probably looking for something to eat." You say when you saw how eagerly it ate. It almost ate the whole thing, before finally taking a sip of the water you had put into a bowl for it.

You suddenly panicked. Not wanting the bunny to pee or poo on the carpet. Not wanting to get in trouble with Jungkook. You quickly took it and brought it to the bathroom. It wouldn’t be too bad if he peed on the tiles, you could clean those easier. You left the bunny alone for a bit, to get some more carrots and other vegetables for it.

You noticed Jungkook was already home when you walked down the stairs. You did not hear him coming home. Probably because you were too focused on the bunny.

"Hi." He greeted you when you got to the last steps of the stairs. He looked exhausted and out of breath. "Hey!" You greeted him back. "Did you run all the way home, or why are you so out of breath?"

He shakes his head and let’s out a little chuckle. "No. I just brought something heavy up here, that’s why I’m out of breath." He explains himself.

"Okay. Where is it?" You ask him, and he looks at you confused. "The thing that you brought up here." You say. His eyebrows are furrowed, before understanding what you mean. "Ah, I’ll show you later. Let’s have dinner first." He says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dining room.

I guess the bunny has to wait for his food a little bit.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

After dinner, you were curious about what the King would show you.

You were both walking down a hallway one that you haven’t seen before, one that you didn’t even know existed. It was a little darker than the other ones in the castle, but it didn’t look too different. You stopped in front of an old heavy looking door. Jungkook took the keys, that he was holding in his left hand to his right. Looking trough the many keys before eventually finding the one he was looking for. He pushed the key and unlocked it. Turning his head to look at you once again before opening it. A strange smile on his face.

He opened the door, and you were immediately met with coldness. Pure coldness, it made you shiver instantly. They were stairs that led you down. You saw nothing but darkness. You looked at him confusingly. "What is this, Jungkook?" You ask him a little worried.

He smirks. "You’ll see." Was all he said. Before he started waking down. Dragging you with him. Nothing was heard expect for Jungkook‘s your yours footsteps. That’s how quiet it was down there. It got colder and colder, as you got deeper down. You saw some light, once you were all the way down. Illuminating the dungeon just a little bit. You heard some whining and grunts coming from somewhere. You were about to ask Jungkook what was going on, but he dragged you somewhere before you had the chance to. You stopped, once you reached what Jungkook wanted to show you. You looked around you, trying to see what this place was. And your eyes widened at what you saw in front of you. You saw cells all around you, most of them had people in them, only a few of them being empty. The people in the cells were mostly man. They had no clothes on expect for their underwear, they looked like they hadn’t eaten or slept in days. Their skin was pale, dirty and full of bruises. Their bones were showing. They had no food or water, neither had they a blanket or a bed to warm them. Most of them were laying down, sitting, or either hugging themselves, trying to give themselves some warmth.

You were shocked. You would’ve never expected a place like this in to exist in the castle. Right under you, right under where you lived, right under where you lived happily. You couldn’t believe this. You had expected anything, but not this! Your body starts to shake, either from the cold or from what your seeing in front of you. How could someone to this? This is horrible. "Y/n, look." Jungkook shakes your hand, interrupts your thoughts. You turn your head to look away from these poor people, instead you look at jungkook in shock. "Look who we have here." He tells you, evil smirk on his face. Pointing towards two another’s cells.

You gasp and your eyes widen even more, if that’s even possible. Right in front of you are two man you recognize immediately. How could you not? These two were people you grew up with. They were around you all the time. They even were your neighbors once. "Jungkook, what is this? What is going on?" You ask him in a shaky voice, trying to take your hand out of his grasp, but instead he grabs your hand tighter and pulls you closer to him. "Those are the two man that touched you without consent,right?" He asks you, not taking his eyes off of them.

How did he find them? You never told him their names. "Yes. But why are they here? Let them go!" You tell him, hearing them whine in pain. "I told you not to worry about it! Why did you bring them here?" And he laughs, he actually laughs at you. You furrow your brows, not finding this funny at all! "What? Did you really think I would just forget about it? Forget what you told me about them? Forget what they did to you?" He says, almost yelling at you. "These man deserve nothing but punishment, Y/n! Why did you try protect them? Huh?" He ask you, now looking at you. "I will personally make sure, that they will never touch another woman against her will again! Never!" He yells angrily.

You jump at his tone, not expecting him lash out like this. You take your hand away this time, surprising both you, and him at your strength. "How did you find them? I never told you their names?" You ask him, raising your voice. He has the audacity to laugh again. "Y/n, I’m the King. It’s not hard for me to find out who you were talking about, it wasn’t hard to find them at all." You cannot believe this. Yes, these man touched your without your consent, but what gives him the right to punish them for it? It should’ve been you, not him!

You take one last look at them, before you walk away. You were so mad at him. You did not want to see his face anymore.

Jungkook called out for you but you didn’t care. You quickly walked out of the dungeon, leaving him down there alone.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You quickly went back to your bedroom. After grabbing some vegetables, remembering why you came down in the first place.

You immediately went to the bathroom when you got back to your bedroom, checking on the bunny right away. You saw that it had peed a little so you quickly clean that up. After that you gave it the veggies that you had grabbed and sat down next to him. You were still in shock at what you saw a few minutes ago. Never in your life would you have thought, that the King would so something like this. Having people down there and torturing them. How is that even allowed? And your still mad at him for getting those man and locking them up down there. You two got along so well these last few days, and he had to fuck it up. And the fact that he looked so proud when he showed them to you, makes even more mad. What did he even think was going to happen, did he think you would jump in his arms and thank him? For that? Ugh you can’t believe him.

You heard him entering the room, calling out for you. You got up and the left the bunny behind, you hope he doesn’t freak out when he sees it. You opened the bathroom door, and there he was, sitting on the bed. Probably already knowing that you were in the bathroom. "Are you serious, why did you leave?" He asks you, when you got out of the bathroom and closing the door behind you. "Are you not even going to thank me, for what I’ve done for you?" Omg you can’t believe him!

You furrow your eyebrows at him. "Are you serious, Jungkook?" You say pointing at him, voice irritated. "I should thank you? For torturing someone?- I did not tell you their names for a reason! If I wanted you know their names, then I would’ve told you!" You tell him, walking towards your side of the bed. "You better let them go."

And he laughs again. His stupid laugh, it’s starting to annoy you. "Let them go? Oh, baby I will. But let me have some fun with them first." He says, the pet name throwing you off guard.

"Ugh I don’t wanna talk with you anymore." You say, rolling your eyes and getting into bed. Just wanting to fall asleep so the day could end. "Are you serious?" He asks you, but you don’t answer him. Instead you turn around and close your eyes. You hear him letting out a annoyed chuckle, before he starts to undress. Judging by the sounds of it. A few minutes later you feel the bed dip behind you, before he lays down.

You two did not cuddle that night.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Taglist: @fangirl125reader @min-nicoleee @yzkyzkuniverse @safi4x @zoeshinelove

[after-avenging-hours]

Out of Time [Epilogue]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary:  After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 4614

Warnings: You might die from cuteness

When you land back in the future, your entire body is shaking. You have just enough strength to hit the button on the time watch to dissolve your quantum suit before you collapse to your knees.

“Vic!” Bucky vaults onto the platform. He kneels in front of you, taking your face into his hands. “Vic, what’s wrong?”

“Did you get the serum?” You can hear Bruce’s voice.

Your breaths come out in sputtering gasps, but you try to fight through it and nod your head. “Yes,” you choke out. “I have it.” Your hands are shaking as you reach for the internal pocket on your coat and hand it over to Bucky. “Dr. Erskine said that the components will begin to degrade the longer it’s left unused. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

Bucky takes the vial and quickly hands it off to Bruce, before returning to you. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What happened?” he coaxes gently.

Tears well up in your eyes when you look back at him. “I think I messed up.”

He gently helps you to your feet and takes you to your bedroom to get cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable as you begin to divulge in full detail what exactly happened when you traveled back in time. He sits patiently on the corner of your bed as you pace up and down the room. You talk until your voice is raw and then you keep going.

“But then he threatened to drop the vial if I didn’t tell him who I worked for! I didn’t know what else to do, so I told him the truth…”

“And he believed you,” Bucky surmises, already putting the pieces together.

“He did,” you confirm, going a little soft as you recall his reasoning for believing you. “But Bucky…” you begin to shake your head fervently. “I broke every rule! I changed everything! None of that was supposed to happen!” You gesture wildly off to the side in a vague attempt at pointing toward the past. “And now, it’s too late to fix any of it,” you say brokenly.

Bucky releases a long breath, his mind spinning after everything you’ve just revealed. “Look, I’m not the science expert here and my only experience with time travel is getting shoved into an icebox every few years,” his lame attempt at a joke makes you scoff at best. “But I’m pretty sure that if anything got changed from this, you would be the only one that knows any different. So, let’s start small.”

You tilt your head as you look back at him, not understanding where he’s going with this.

“Look around your room. Is anything different here?” he asks.

As soon as you realize what he’s getting at, you start to walk around the room. Everything is exactly as you had left it. There’s a picture frame on the nightstand on your side of the bed. You’re tucked under Steve’s arm and smiling brightly at the camera. You remember that the photo was taken during one of Tony’s parties. Steve is wearing that tight blue button-up shirt that always drives you crazy and you’re decked out in a pretty red dress. Not even ten minutes after this photo was taken, you and Steve had snuck off for a quickie in the bathroom, because you just couldn’t handle how sexy he was in that damn shirt.

You smile fondly at the picture and move around the rest of the room. The books on your bookshelf are all the same. Half of them are yours, half are Steve’s. The closet is still divided between both of your things, but it’s all the same outfits you’ve seen hundreds of times. The bathroom still has both of your toothbrushes in the cup by the sink. A few different makeup products are scattered over the counter from when you’d been trying to figure out what you were going to take with you to 1943.

You make your way back over to Bucky, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all the same.”

“Okay,” Bucky nods. “And I assume that I’m not any different, right?” He asks. “Now be careful with what you say, because if you tell me I didn’t have to lose my arm, I may just pull this one off and throw it at you,” he jokes again, pointing to his metal arm.

That one manages to successfully pull a laugh out of you, even if it’s a small one. “No, you’re the same. Metal arm included.”

“Alright…” Bucky grunts quietly as he pushes off the bed to stand up. “Then let’s widen our scope. While we’re at it, let’s head to the kitchen and get some food in you.”

You’re not very hungry, but you know that Bucky is just trying to take care of you in Steve’s absence, so you don’t argue. The two of you leave the living quarters and head for the shared kitchen. It’s strange being back. Not only because of the abundance of technology, that you had seriously taken for granted, but also because that feeling of uselessness was beginning to sink back in.

You’d completed your part. You got the serum. Now all that’s left is to wait and see if it paid off. You’re of no use at this point and that is really starting to weigh on you. “Bucky… what if it doesn’t work?” you ask, your voice sounding hollow.

“Don’t say that, Vic. Don’t even think it,” he responds swiftly. “You busted your ass to get us that serum. It’s going to work.”

You have to bite your lip to keep it from trembling, your eyes are already so raw from how much you’ve been crying that it physically hurts to tear up. “How can you be so sure?”

His gaze softens when he looks back at you. “You said it perfectly yourself. I have faith.”

--

Bucky was lucky enough to get some food in you but was wholly unsuccessful in getting you to rest. So here you are, 24 hours after arriving back from the past and you’re sitting at Steve’s bedside, desperately scrolling through a tablet reading through as many historical events as you can from the last century, trying to figure out what’s changed. So far, you’ve come up empty.

Bruce showed up at about 3 in the morning to tell you they had a breakthrough with the serum and had been able to synthesize a cure. He had even reached out to Shuri in Wakanda to have her double-check their work before preparing the antidote to administer into Steve’s IV. You gave her a quick phone call to let her know how grateful you were for her help and to tell her how handy her healing gel had been during your travels. When you asked how you could ever repay her, she’d laughed and told you to take her to Disneyland, because T’Challa still refused to take her himself. That made you crack a smile and you quickly agreed to get a trip planned.

Everyone else had, for the most part, left you alone to be with Steve. You are completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, but you can’t seem to let your mind rest. You can’t help but feel in your gut that your presence in the past had to have changed something. You just can’t for the life of you figure out what.

“Vic?”

The rough voice has your head snapping up so fast, you get whiplash. “Steve!” You quickly place the tablet down and scramble to your feet.

He blinks heavily, and he looks groggy as all hell, but he’s definitely awake.

“Oh, you big idiot. You scared the shit out of me!” You’re already crying again, just from the relief of seeing him awake.

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “What happened?”

“Those Hydra scientists injected you with some type of anti-serum poison. It almost killed you.”

“Would explain why I feel like shit…” he mumbles.

You scoff out a wet laugh. Reaching up, you push his bangs off his forehead then curl your fingers down his temple and over his smooth cheek. “Jerk,” you tell him affectionately.

His lips tilt into a half-grin before immediately falling into a frown. He grips your arm to stop you from pulling it back. “Vic, what is this?” he questions, looking at the bruise around your wrist. Figures he would notice that in mere seconds of being awake. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to have anyone else look at it yet.

“Oh, it’s nothing…” you try to brush it off and take your arm back, but his grip is surprisingly firm for someone that had literally been just steps away from death. Damn Super Soldier.

“It’s not nothing,” he insists. “That’s a handprint! Vic, who did-” he cuts himself off, gaze flickering down to where his fingers are wrapped around the middle of your arm and then back up to the bruise. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand travels up the length of your arm until he’s circling your wrist. He’s gentle and doesn’t press on the bruise at all, just hovers over it enough to see the exact match. “I did this,” he states upon the realization. His brows then furrow in confusion. “Why don’t I remember…?” He inhales sharply, his grip going slack, causing his hand to drop into his lap. In the next moment, his head whips around you meet your startled gaze. “You went back!” he exclaims.

“What-” your jaw drops as you stare back at him, wide-eyed. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. “How…”

“Vic, honey, this is serious. Did you go back to 1943?” Steve questions insistently. He looks just about ready to jump out of the hospital bed if you don’t answer immediately.

You release a shaky breath. “How did you know that?” you question, your mind racing to come up with an explanation for whatever seems to be happening here. You jolt when the medical equipment hooked up to Steve starts beeping because of his elevated heart rate. He pulls the heart monitor clip off of his finger and tries to push himself into an upright position. “Whoa, Steve!” you place your hands on his chest to make him lie back again. “Hon, you need to take it easy. Your body is still trying to fight off the poison and you haven’t received the full dose of the antidote, yet.” You hit the button on the side of the bed to lift him up into a seated position.

“Vic, where’s my suit?” he asks urgently.

“Your suit?” you question, not understanding why he’s asking about it. “It’s right here,” you point to where it’s neatly folded on a table behind you. He’d been stripped out of it so they could work on him, but you hadn’t had the time or mental capacity to put it away, yet.

“Look under the chest plate, on the inside of the suit,” he instructs. “There’s a hidden pocket on the left.”

You give him a perplexed look before slowly turning to move toward the table. You slip your hand under the collar of his uniform and feel around under the chest plate. Sure enough, your fingers brush against the small pull tab of an invisible zipper. Pinching it between two fingers, you open the pocket and try to feel for what could be inside. Your fingers brush against some kind of paper. The beat of your heart fills your ears as you slowly pull the paper out and carefully unfold it.

“Oh my god…” all the air rushes out of your lungs at once.

It’s you. Drawn out in charcoal. Asleep on the cot in the barracks at Camp Lehigh. The drawing is unmistakable. You just saw it yesterday morning, so you can recognize it instantly. But the version you hold now is faded and smudged. The paper is soft and worn, the edges have turned yellow. The one you hold now didn’t come through the quantum realm. This one passed through the passage of time one single day at a time.

“You said I should carry you in my heart,” Steve’s words pierce straight through your scattered thoughts, making you gasp. “So, I did.”

Your hands begin to shake. You quickly set down the sketch, afraid that you might damage the delicate paper. “I…” you huff, your mind racing faster than you have the strength to comprehend. “I don’t understand.” Your breath hitches and you cup your hands over your mouth.

“Vic,” Steve calls for you gently.

When you turn to face him, he’s got his hand stretched out, beckoning you closer. You feel dizzy as you walk on unsteady legs over to him, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer until you’re sitting on the side of his bed. “Steve… I don’t- What does this mean?”

He gives you a small smile, squeezing your hand gently for comfort. “You just spent the last two weeks in 1943, right?” You swallow thickly and nod your head. “Vic… those two weeks happened 80 years ago for me.”

You choke on your next breath when his words confirm what your brain is trying to grasp at. “So, that means that I did mess up the timeline, then. Oh, God. Bruce warned me that-”

“Honey, you didn’t mess up anything,” Steve cuts you off, using a soothing tone. 

“But…”

He runs his fingers over your hand, tracing out the lines on your palm in a calming gesture. “Do you remember when you were trying to figure out my Ma’s potato soup recipe?” he asks. “You would get so sad whenever it didn’t turn out quite right.”

You release a shaky breath watching how his fingers trace over your palm again and again. “I almost gave up.”

“I know. But then I begged you to try again. Just one more time. I told you that I knew you would get it right and what happened next?” he prompts.

You huff out a laugh at the memory, “The next one was perfect.”

Steve nods in confirmation. “I knew you would get the recipe right because you’d already made it for me once…” He stops the ministration of his fingers on your hand and waits for your gaze to lift to his. “In 1943,” he finishes.

You hold his gaze and let that sink in. “So… These last two weeks… That was always supposed to happen?”

“Yes,” he confirms with a breath.

“But…” you shake your head trying to wrap your head around this new concept. “You never said anything… Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

He fixes you with a sad look, “For the same reason you were terrified to tell me the truth,” He explains. “I wanted to tell you. In fact, there were several times when I almost did. But I was scared that if I told you before it had a chance to happen, then it wouldn’t happen at all.” He’s gone back to fiddling with your hand, now that he’s the one that needs comfort from the contact. “Vic, look at me,” he implores. “Why do I make you dance with me whenever Taking a Chance on Love comes on?”

He’s never given you a reason before, which means there’s only one answer. “Because I made you dance with me to it in your apartment,” you answer.

He smiles. “Why do I always ask to make sure you’ve checked the expiration date on your emergency inhaler?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Because I had to give it to you during your asthma attack.”

“Why do I kiss you on your stomach and on your back where you now have a set of scars underneath that t-shirt?”

Your press your free hand to the side of your stomach absentmindedly. “Because you helped me patch up the gunshot wound.”

“See?” he asks. “You didn’t change the timeline, Vic. You completed it.”

The words have no sooner left his mouth before you’re promptly bursting into tears. However, these tears aren’t coming from a place of sadness or fear, they instead stem from pure relief. You crumple forward against his chest, openly sobbing as he wraps an arm around you. “I was so scared that I had messed things up!”

“I know, Honey. But it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He places a kiss to the top of your head and rubs soothingly at your back. He holds you close as you cry out the last of the stress and tension out of your body.

When you’re no longer racked with sob you push yourself off of him and rise off the bed. You grab a few tissues from the side table to blow your nose and dry your eyes before tossing them into the trash. You release a long sigh, feeling the last of the tension leave you. This, however, allows pure exhaustion to settle over you in its place.

“Vic, I mean this in the most loving way, but you look like crap.”

You release a dry scoff, shooting Steve with a light glare. “Gee, thanks.”

He looks back with concern. “When was the last time you slept?”

Your gaze softens up. “In 1943,” you tell him honestly.

“Come here,” he lifts his arm in invitation.

“Steve, you’re still recovering,” you protest.

“I’ll recover a whole lot faster if you don’t make me get up and come after you.”

You huff out a laugh, but relent and move back toward the bed. “Stubborn jerk,” you mumble. You kick off your shoes and raise the thin blanket covering his legs to tuck yourself in close next to him. You lay on your side, with your head on his chest and a leg thrown over his. You shift around a bit until you find the most comfortable spot. “You were easier to spoon when you were smaller.”

Steve releases a low chuckle, settling his arm over your shoulders and resting his hand at your back. “At least you never called my penis adorable when I was this size.”

“Oh my God,” you grumble. “I never said that, but I can certainly start!”

He snickers when you slap his chest. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt and crawls back up until his fingers touch the scar on your back. He releases a low hum. “As soon as I get out of this hospital bed, we’re having crazy hot reunion sex.”

You snort in amusement. “I’m sorry, we’re having what?”

“Hey, you got some like two days ago, but I haven’t had sex in like a month,” he protests.

“Are you seriously jealous of yourself?” you ask dubiously.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits, continuing to run his fingers over your scar. “Usually whenever I missed you enough to make my chest ache. It happened a lot when you first left, but it would also creep up on me whenever things got slow on the war front. It always made me think about how there was a version of myself somewhere out there in another time that got to spend every night wrapped up in your arms. A version of me that got to touch you whenever he wanted. Kiss you whenever he pleased. It killed me not knowing when or if I’d ever see you again.”

You rub your cheek against his chest and listen to him talk. “When I was in the Valkyrie while it was going down and had to decide what to do… You were my first thought. If I crashed the plane and died, then I’d never get to see you again. And that thought scared me more than anything else. But then I remembered what you told me the day you left.  Don’t make your choices based on what you think will bring you back to me. Make the choice because you know it’s the right thing to do. And I knew at that moment that this was exactly what you had been talking about. So… I grabbed onto my faith and plunged into the ice.

“When I woke up in 2012… I was terrified that I had overshot the timeline and missed my opportunity to be with you. Then the battle of New York happened and suddenly I had bigger problems to deal with. When I got assigned to the DC SHIELD office, as soon as I got my credentials, you were the first thing I looked up. Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d actually been in New York with me.”

“Like two ships passing in the night,” you comment, watching your fingers draw random patterns against his chest. “I was re-assigned to the LA office after New York.”

“I know. I purchased a plane ticket to California.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. “What?”

“Yeah. I flew out there to find you. When I got to the SHIELD base, the director made a big deal about my arrival and wanted to give me a grand tour of the facility. You were training when I first saw you.” You shift up onto your elbow, so you can look down and meet his gaze, eager to hear what he’ll say next. “You were with a guy. Sparring. I could tell you both were pretty friendly with each other. The way you fought was more teasing than actual combat training and whenever he pinned you to the mat, you would laugh. From where I was standing, it looked like you were flirting.”

You rack your brain, trying to figure out who he could be talking about. “Was that my old partner?” you question. “The one that was already married?”

Steve purses his lips and scrunches his nose. “And gay… It would take me a few years before figuring that one out.”

“Ugh, Steve!” you groan and flop back down onto his chest. To think you could have been with him even earlier if he hadn’t jumped to conclusions.

“I know,” he agrees with a sigh. “I really shot myself in the foot with that one. But you’d also been younger than I remembered you, so I was pretty sure I hadn’t missed our chance. I flew back to DC and then waited for you to come to me.”

“How the hell did you manage to keep all of this a secret? You suck at lying.” You ask in disbelief.

That gets a laugh out of him. “I honestly have no idea, but I am so glad that I can talk about it with you now.”

“Well, then I guess while we’re on the subject of clearing the air, I also have a confession to make.” Steve looks at you curiously. “I kind of had a ‘klepto’ moment,” you admit.

His brows pull together, “What does that mean?”

You bite your bottom lip and grimace, “I took something that doesn’t belong to me and brought it back through the quantum realm.”

He raises a brow, unsure if he should be amused or disapproving of your actions. “What did you take?”

Pushing yourself back up, you crawl halfway over his body and stretch an arm out to the wheeling table by his bed where all of your friends have put flowers and little trinkets to express their well wishes. Steve grabs onto your hips to make sure you don’t fall out of the bed as you drag the table a little closer. Plucking an object off the table, you settle back against Steve’s side and hand it to him.

“Vic…” even with just the one syllable, you can hear him choking up.

“Our last morning at the camp, you left to take a shower and your suitcase was just sitting there. Open. I saw where you had tucked it, and I don’t really know why, but I took it. I knew that when you woke up in 2012, anything that hadn’t been with you on that plane had been lost forever. I just… I wanted you to have them back.”

He stares down at the picture frame for a long time, unblinking.

“Are you mad…?” you ask hesitantly.

He finally blinks and a single tear travels down his cheek. “I never thought I’d see this again,” he says quietly. As you reach to wipe away his tear, his gaze lifts to yours. “Thank you,” he tells you, his voice filled with so much love you can feel it.

You smile tenderly back, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. “They would have been so proud of you.”

He swallows thickly and you have to wipe another tear from his cheek. “My Ma would have loved you.”

You lean your head down to rest your forehead against his. He takes a moment to process through his emotions before tilting his face forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You release a content hum and fall into the kiss. This kiss feels a little different somehow. It’s pure and clarifying. It wipes away all the pain and stress you’ve felt over the last two weeks. It mends the cracks in your heart that formed when you had to leave him in 1943. You made it back. The serum worked. He’s alive and speeding down the road to recovery.

When you pull back, you’re crying again, because your heart is just so full that there’s nowhere left for your emotions to go. “I love you,” you whisper wetly against his lips.

He looks back and gives you the sweetest smile, “I love you too, Vic.” You help him put the picture of his parents back on the side table before settling against his side once again. “Okay, reunion sex first, but then we’re getting married like immediately after,” he comments.

You grin wide and release a laugh at his words. “Do I get a say in any of this?”

His arm tightens where it’s wrapped around your waist. “Only if you plan on saying yes.”

“Normally you’re supposed to ask these kinds of things,” you tease. As if there was any other option.

“I am way past the point of asking,” he huffs. “Would have done it years ago, if someone hadn’t told me in 1943 that we weren’t married yet!”

“What was I supposed to say?!” You ask, wanting to laugh again. You can’t believe that this is your first argument after coming back.

“You were supposed to say that I married the shit out of you the second I saw you again! Maybe then, I would have tossed you over my shoulder and taken you for myself in California.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you giggle at his pouting face.

“Say you’ll marry me, or things are about to get a whole lot more ridiculous. I will toss you over my shoulder and go right now,” he threatens, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth is giving him away. 

“Yes, you stubborn idiot. I will let you marry the shit out of me.”

He shoots you a smug grin before his laughter starts to break through. “What happened to stubborn jerk?”

“You’ve been promoted for suggesting we should get married while you’re still hooked into an IV bag and I haven’t slept in 80 years.”

He looks over his shoulder up at the IV that’s still slowly administering fluids and the antidote into his system. “I can bring the IV stand with us and you can nap on the way. It’ll be great.”

You laugh at the goofy grin plastered across his mouth. “Good luck with that.”

If possible, his grin widens even further. “I don’t need luck. All I need is my Victory.”

-

The End

[poptod]

hello! i'd like to make an ahkmenrah x reader request! maybe present-day reader gets teleported back in time to when ahkmenrah was alive and they eventually get to the palace and stuff happens? maybe they tell him about modern life? and maybe reader is unnaturally beautiful to the ancient egyptians because humans evolve to be more attractive as time goes on so a person from our time would be hot shit 4,000 years ago? this is long lmao. thanks!

Notes: god ive always wanted to do this kind of storyline but i was worried about like,, logic and stuff getting in the way of the storyline. anyway! i was so fucking elated to receive this request. i got a bit carried away so apologies! WC: 3.2k

+

Okay. It isn't that bad.

Would you ever see your family again? Probably not, but you weren't ruling the possibility out.

Would you ever get to have sour patch kids again? Probably not. But even during the time you lived in 2020, you had eaten more concentrated sour patch kids flavor than all of the people around you combined.

This little village on the outskirts of ancient Thebes is hardly L.A.––though that's probably a good thing––and is small enough for you to know every inhabitant. Your shop there is small to suit the town, and well known ever since your arrival in this time.

They found you beside the river, thought you to be a gift from the Gods. You were hazy, though––whatever had so forcefully pushed you back in time had made your head spin, making you sick and unbalanced. So, when they asked if you did in fact come from the Gods, you had no way of defending yourself either way. Generally you've been denying it––they think you are a god, and the only way you've convinced them you're not a god is by saying you're a gift from them. It explains the way you look, unnaturally beautiful and alien amongst the more pure genetics of earlier humans.

Your shop is pretty simple. You make portraits from paint, more realistic than anything else that exists, and it only affirms their belief in your god-like status. Fortunately word seems to not have gotten out––the village has remained small, and no one from Thebes has run into you. Every now and then you get unreasonably anxious that a noble will find you and turn you into a slave. It's a worry most people around you have, so you find comfort in the fact that you're not the only one. Still, you're not quite accustomed to such an atmosphere––the thought of nobles and Kings noticing you still sends terrified aches into your stomach.

It's about two weeks in that it gets bad. People start to pass by the village, more than you would've thought, and they're all looking to trade goods, food, and information. The people of the village talk about you––you're something interesting, you can't deny that, but they don't know just how worried you are. Whenever you see someone you don't recognize outside your home, you refuse to come out.

Five days later and there's soldiers in your home, looking over your paintings on their way back to Memphis from conquering the realm of Kush. You hold a deep contempt for them––you don't know all that much about history, but you know how Egyptian soldiers and Pharaohs reigned power over the people of Kush.

The soldiers aren't all that worrying. What really gets your heart pounding is the final man to enter your hut; a man bearing a crown and a long sword, with golden braces around his wrists and a chest plated in green scales. Your fingers dig into the wood of your counter when he notices you. The crown on his head––it's the crown of both upper and lower Egypt.

This is a Royal.

"Where did you learn this skill?" He asks you, eyes trained on one of your bigger drawings. It's just on papyrus––not for sale––and hung on the wall as a display of your talent.

"I spent a little while travelling the world," you answer. Technically, growing up in the modern world was a bit like travelling the world; you got to see the cultures and practices of many, many people. "The rest of it's practice."

"The peasants here, they... they claim you came from the Nile. Is that true?"

"Well... that is where I was found," you say carefully, but you can already tell you've fucked up. The look on his face is indescribable beyond the fact that he's pleased.

"How would you feel coming back to the capital with me?" He offers to you, setting his hands on the counter and leaning forward. "I think my father would much like to meet you."

"I – I don't think I'm really cut out for -"

"Nonsense," he dismisses with a smile, taking your hand from its' spot on the wood. "We shall teach you proper writing skills, give you a beautiful home, and the salary isn't horrid either."

You can't just say no. If you do, he's going to ask questions––he's going to get confused, and he's going to get suspicious. No one would turn down an opportunity like this; free schooling, free housing, and much more money for something you already do.

"Well... alright," you say quietly, looking to the home around you that you built with the help of the other villagers.

"Wonderful. My name is Kamun."

He's not a very nice person, you come to find. Or perhaps he's just not your tastes––the soldiers seem to like him well enough, at least the ones who aren't completely subordinate to him, but his attitude towards women and poor people is scathing to say the least. Otherwise he's very amusing, with a good sense of humor and quite generous with his food and wine as long as he gets his fill of it first.

The boat back to Memphis, where the royal family currently stays, is a long ride filled with various entertainments. It's clear these are not soldiers accustomed to rough conditions––the dancing women and flowing beer is enough to tell you that. Instead, you surmise these are faux war-heroes; people adored in their hometown for doing nothing but intimidating others in a foreign country. They try to get cushy with you, soften you up to their words and touches. It doesn't work.

He keeps you close to him. You let him do it, sort of––it's better than telling him no. Better than starting a ruckus. Then again, avoiding a ruckus is what got you here in the first place, standing before the doors of the courtroom where a false God on earth rules the Nile.

"Father, I bring you a gift from Thebes," says Kamun, pushing you forward by the small of your back. You can't bring yourself to meet the Pharoah's eye, so you fall to your knees and bow.

Everyone is staring at you. You don't look normal, and they all know it, and you know it. You could cry from the heat of their eyes on your back.

One of Kamun's soldiers steps forwards, handing the Pharaoh and his wife several of the drawings they'd taken from you. Silence passes as the two scan your work.

"How did you achieve such a mirror of the human face?" The Pharaoh asks in a slow, deep voice that sounds as he looks––old, weathered, wise.

"They came from the Nile," Kamun answers for you, and murmurs take the crowd by storm. You, on the other hand, feel your heartbeat increase in massive increments, speeding your already uneven breath. "A gift from the Gods, the locals said."

"I can't – I am not magic," you rush out, hoping your clarification clears you of any responsibility to the Pharaoh. You know he rules everything––if he says you are to stay here, you have no choice, and you don't like it here. Too many people. "I cannot give you anything, my King."

"I think you're lying," says a voice, its' tone soft and a velvet low. It catches you off guard, brings you to raise your head and meet the eyes of someone you don't know; a young man dressed in gold beside the Pharaoh's throne.

You almost lose your breakfast as your eyes bulge, your mind instantly recognizing him and connecting the dots. You were, by far, not a historian, but you knew a fair amount of Egyptian history––namely a family in the Old Kingdom who was headed by the Pharaoh Merenkahre. The remaining statues and busts of the King and his son are astonishingly accurate, and there can be no doubt in your head.

That being said, there also can't be any reaction on your face. You try your best to reign your expression in.

"I..."

Actually, you do have something to offer now. You know the names––memorized the history, committed each event to memory, and now you can pull their lifestory off from the top of your head. Wouldn't that be valuable to a King; a seer of the future, to predict the rise and fall of the economy and the coming armies. Besides, you can't just say he's wrong. That'd be treasonous to them. So you have to agree you're hiding something, come up with an excuse as to why you hid it, and it proves harder than you thought. You're quickwitted, though––it got you away from the villager's wrath, and it will promote you to noble living now.

You hide a smirk beneath a calm expression as you address the younger prince.

"They gifted me foresight," you say quietly, pretending as though it hurts you to tell the truth, "but told me to never inform others."

"You are in the presence of Ra once more," the Pharaoh reminds you.

"And others," you point out. "I would... it would be better to discuss such matters.. in private."

Detailed information about already-past events is enough to sway him to believe you. The Pharaoh is surprisingly easy to convince, and with a few, meaningless predictions of the future, he gives you housing in his own palace. Kamun looks proud of himself––puffs his chest out in front of his father and earns no compliment. Ire laces his glare as it falls upon his brother, Ahkmen, praised for his ability to see through your obvious lie.

The Pharaoh asks his younger son to guide you to your room. Apparently it's closer to his room than it is to Kamun's, and evening is approaching fast. The walk there, while short, is marked by a conversation composed mainly of Ahkmen's questions and your answers. When the two of you reach your room, he doesn't leave––actually, he follows you in and locks the door.

There's nothing more terrifying than a man with unchecked power, and there is no one watching you.

No fail safe.

You gulp.

"I know you're still not telling the truth," he says, and though it dismisses several of your worries it still begs the question; how did he notice? "Just thought I'd spare you the embarrassment in front of my father, but my generosity ends there. Now I won't hurt you, and I won't tell anyone––I'm just curious."

Oh thank fuck. He's not going to rape you.

"I'm not Egyptian," you blurt out.

"Obviously," he interrupts, but you glare him into raising his hands defensively.

"I'm from the future."

He stares at you. For a minute. You know this because you count it––he just pauses right in his stance, doesn't move, and stares at you for a whole minute like you just told him you're made of gold.

"I'm sorry, what?" He says, laughter suddenly wracking his body.

"It's how I know what's going to happen to your family," you say, hoping he'll believe you. Otherwise this handsome, seemingly-nice man is going to think you're insane for the rest of time. "I studied your family for years as a side-hobby, I don't know how to predict the future for anything but you and your father."

His laughing pauses, or lightens at least; enough for him to say, "actually?"

"Yes," you say, completely serious. This seems to gain his interest once more. "You have to help me. I know at some point people are going to ask me questions about other things and I'm not going to have an answer."

"Just do what all our priests do," he says with a chuckle.

"What do they do?"

"Lie," he says. You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face from the stupid joke, and when he sees that a shit-eating grin spreads across his own face, delighted he could make you laugh.

"Yes, well... I guess I could do that," you mumble in a laugh.

"There's no need for you to worry. Now that I know the truth, I can help you," he says, offering you something that takes nearly all the anxiety out of your brain. After two days travel with a prince, it feels like it took 50 pounds off your shoulders.

"Thank you, so much," you chuckle in relief.

"Of course. I do have questions though, and I want you to answer them."

"Anything."

These questions of his, they come at all times––almost at a constant rate when he takes you on long walks, which he does often. He passes it off to his father as an interest in your beauty, and it apparently works. This little lie also helps you enormously in avoiding the romantic advances of many of the people you come into contact with. You're still not quite sure how it works, since Egyptians supposedly had a strong sense of patriotism, but you look rare and they idolize it. Every eye that falls upon you sees something beautiful, and you can't understand it.

At least Ahkmen is normal. He doesn't talk about you being beautiful. Ever.

And it kind of makes you sad.

"Would you say people on the whole are happier in the future or in the past?" He asks you, his words surrounded by the warmth of a summer day in Egypt.

Birds chatter loudly in the trees around you, singing in the humid air that marks the mating season for many of them. The flowers that surround you are already familiar––you thought it would take longer for you to commit the shapes and colors to memory, but here you are. Dressed in gold-laced silk and turquoise necklaces.

"I think the happiness of a population is dependent entirely on the circumstances surrounding it," you say. Sometimes your answers relate more to the human condition than the progress of time on the human race; he likes these answers, too, so you tell him exactly what you think. "Six thousand years from now, there are times of great misery. One is even called the Great Depression, but five years before that were some of the most prosperous times my country had ever seen. The same cycle is evident here."

"So.. great misery and great happiness come in waves?" He asks, pace slowing as he tries to understand what you're saying. You pause along the pathway, allowing him space to think.

"It's a pattern, actually. When the economy goes up, it will always come down. Recessions happen right after economical booms. And yes," you say before he can ask, "a time of unease will follow the prosperity of the current years. But it won't be for a time yet."

"Will it happen in my lifetime?"

He's murdered about three years from now. You think you might be able to stop it, but if you do, it'll alter history quite a lot. Either way, he wouldn't live long enough to see the recession the building of the great pyramids caused.

"No," you say. "But I'd prepare for it anyway, if only to keep your citizens safe."

"Of course. You... you are a great scholar," he tells you, resuming the slow walk down the shore of the Nile.

"Oh. Uh, thank you," you mumble as a blush fills your cheeks.

"What did you do in your time?"

"I was an artist, but I spent a lot of time giving lectures on the role of autistic people in ancient Egypt. Autistic people are often timekeepers," you say, and you know he'll figure out what you mean. Autistic isn't a term here, but many timekeepers of these ancient times were autistic, and considered highly by their societies.

"You might be able to give lectures again, if you'd like," he suggests. "People would come from far and wide to hear you speak. And you've got things to say that I know many scholars will find interesting."

"Mmm," you wince, "I kind of want to stay away from altering history too much."

"Oh, yes. My apologies," he says in a softer voice.

"It's alright," you say. "I'm glad you think I would be a good choice for that kind of thing, though."

He chuckles bashfully as he turns to the ground, scuffing his sandals as he walks.

Ahkmen is sweet––much sweeter than any of his family members, and you find yourself appreciating that every time you pass by his room. You pass his door often, always stopping a second to contemplate the tall, wooden doors. He's on the pathway between your room and the library.

Most of the time he's not in his room. Actually, you can usually find him in the library––there or outside in the markets or near the stalls. Today is different; he's been missing all day, and only when you walk the path back to your room do you hear his voice, talking to himself in his bedroom.

"They're bombarded with just such compliments, though. I can't – I can't stand out!"

"Or maybe you should, because you still haven't said a single thing yet and they probably think you're completely uninterested and that's why they aren't noticing you?"

"You and your... logic," Ahkmen spits.

"Come complaining when you kiss them under my advice."

As you attempt to peek through the crack in the door you stumble, knocking your hand against the wood. You barely hesitate before knocking again––cool and collected, smooth to slip into another lie.

"Oh! Hello, um – hi," he says awkwardly, slipping out of the room when he sees you. He quickly closes the door behind him, careful to keep you from seeing the other person in his room, but you can't bring yourself to care about the stranger.

Think of an excuse, why am I here?

"Oh, that's... I like your flower," he comments softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and the flower tucked into your hair. You'd forgotten about it, but raised your hand to touch the petals as you smiled. The perfect excuse

"Thank you. I thought you might like it, so I," you take it out of your hair and grab his hand, holding his palm upwards, "wanted to show you.. um, here."

Setting the flower in his hand, you curl his fingers around its' stem and push his hands back into his chest. He stares at you for a moment, confused by your strange behavior, but accepting of your gift anyway. You know him well enough now––he'd never decline a gift from you.

"A white iris," he tells you in a lofty tone. "A symbol of the dead. Funny it looks so lively on you."

You need to get out of here before your chest combusts.

"I need to go now, but I'll see you this evening, yes?" You ask, stepping instinctively closer. He doesn't back away.

"Of course. And, um," he takes your hands, keeps you where you stand as he slips the flower back behind your ear, "keep it. I want to see it on you at dinner."

He's close to you––close enough that it gets hard to distinguish his breath from your own, when you started holding his hand. When his other came up to your face. When he leans in and kisses your forehead. It's barely there, just barely, but there's no mistaking the soft plush, the affection clear behind gentle, precise movements.

You rush away the second he lets your hands go.

[hualianff]

More Than This III 《II》

“Hello? No, I’m not home- No, I don’t intend to return-“ HC speaks, irritation evident in his tone. “Fucking now? Why?”

XL silently slips off the bed and reaches for his discarded shirt. But after looking at the large size and fancy design, he realizes it’s one of HC’s that must have been mixed up in XL’s wash.

XL pulls it back on.

A few harshly-worded responses later, HC hangs up without a goodbye, slamming his phone face down on the nightstand. He turns to see XL has moved off the bed, standing fully clothed.

“Xie Lian...” HC says quietly as he swings his legs to the side of the small bed, standing on the floor.

“I-if you n-need to g-go, it’s- it’s fine,” XL struggles to say, crossing his arms over his middle. He can’t bear to look at HC as his presence gets closer. If XL were a stronger person, he would have backed away and not let HC wrap his long arms around XL in a warm hug.

But XL doesn’t want to be strong. He wants this hug.

He wants HC.

“Gege, I’m not leaving you in this state,” HC asserts, though his breathing has gotten harsh, betraying his calm facade. “Please don’t make me leave you,” he weakly murmurs.

“It’s for the b-best,” XL tries to convince, finding it too difficult to keep his eyes open. He squeezes them shut, wondering how stubborn he must look from HC’s perspective.

“Why?” is all HC chokes out, the heat of his gaze penetrating XL’s closed lids.

XL purses his lips, holding back another series of wails that threaten to break through.

“I’ve- I’ve ruined things,” XL says. “Our thing,” he clarifies.

“You haven’t ruined anything, Gege,” HC says fiercely. “But if you’re feeling this way...is it something I did?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then am I not doing enough? It’s okay if you think I’m lacking in some areas. I always am.” HC lets out a dry laugh. “But I can fix it! Tell me what you need me to change to make things better-“

“San Lang doesn’t need to change anything!” XL cries, a bit angry now. He’s glad his eyes are screwed shut, otherwise, the tears would’ve stung and blurred his vision beyond function. “It’s me. I’m the one who messed up.”

XL’s lower lip wobbles. He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to fall again without anyone to catch him-

XL’s knees buckle.

HC’s arms wind around his waist as they both collapse to the floor.

“I don’t understand,” HC whispers, pressing kiss after kiss to XL’s temple. “Please help me understand.”

XL finally takes a deep breath. He picks his head up and opens his eyes, red and puffy from crying.

HC’s anxious facial expression greets him.

“I love you.”

HC’s eyes widen in shock.

XL nods in understanding, knowing how overwhelmed the actor must be. It can’t be the first confession he’s had. Someone as charming and desirable as HC must be used to partners confessing their feelings while crying on the ground, pleading for his returned affections.

Unfortunately, XL is just another wishful admirer vying for HC’s heart.

HC’s silence rings louder than a hundred church bells, driving XL to fill it in with more words, a better explanation about how XL has violated their initial conditions to begin fooling around in the first place.

“I sleep best when I’m in your arms, you know? I know my bed isn’t the biggest or comfiest thing you’ve ever slept on. But whenever you’re sleeping beside me, it’s the most perfect place to be,” XL admits with a watery laugh, a twinge of happiness filling his heart just thinking about the peaceful nights he and HC shared over the last year. “And I get the best damn sleep that I will get for the rest of the month we are apart.”

XL can’t stop himself at this point. He’s vaguely aware of HC still supporting him by the waist, the softest brush of fingers against his love handles.

“And I don’t know what it is about your way with words. Maybe it’s because you’re an actor and performing is your job. But- you make me laugh the hardest I’ve ever laughed in my life. And it will be about the silliest things! Like your commentary on the reality tv shows we sometimes watch together. You’re funnier than the people doing the skits themselves!” XL babbles, having to stop to blow a piece of stray hair from his lips. HC goes to properly move it to the side while XL continues.

“And you’re an amazing cook! If you wanted to open up your own restaurant, I guarantee it would be an instant hit! You make everything with so much passion and care. I honestly have so much fun with you in the kitchen–and in general. You’re like...sunshine in my life. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we do. As long as I’m with you, I have a reason to smile.”

I wish it could be like that all the time, XL thinks.

“You bring me so much happiness, San Lang. I just...love you so so much,” XL finishes. He swallows thickly and puts on a brave face. His heart twists in on itself painfully; painful tingles travel all the way down to his shaking fingertips.

He sniffles softly.

“And I’m sorry.”

Sorry for getting attached.

Sorry for loving you-

“Gege, please look at me,” HC requests, making XL realize he shut his eyes again while confessing. Slowly, XL obliges, trembling even harder. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

XL goes to speak but HC cuts him off with a chaste kiss, short and sweet. XL hmphs in confusion when he feels HC smile against his lips. When they pull away, XL is speechless.

“Wha-“

“Gege loves me?” HC questions with bright eyes, bumping noses with XL.

“Yes, I said so earlier...” XL says, unsure of what’s going on. But seeing HC smile makes him want to automatically smile as well.

“Would Gege mind saying it one more time?”

XL’s lower lip juts out. HC had clearly heard him the first time.

“Please?” HC whispers. XL pouts harder.

“I love you-“

HC smashes their lips together again, cutting XL’s gasp off.

“San Lang!”

“Again, Gege.”

XL frowns, eyebrows furrowed in determination.

“I love-AHHH!”

HC stands up and picks XL up with hands under his thighs. He spins them around, forcing XL to wrap his arms around HC’s shoulders.

“What are you doing!?” XL asks breathlessly once HC stops spinning. He has to tilt his head down due to the reversed height difference, yet, XL still feels small.

“Ah, after being told Gege loves me, how could I not jump for joy?” HC chuckles, kissing the corner of XL’s mouth.

“You-?“

HC guides XL down onto the bed, hovering over him before gently laying between the cradle of XL’s legs.

“It must be known that San Lang is sorry too,” HC says with a slight rasp, resting his chin against XL’s chest. He looks particularly  satisfied–like the cat that got the cream. “For he loves Gege with all his heart.”

XL embraces HC in a fierce hug with a shout, sobbing all over again. But this time, these are happy tears.

If XL is HC’s anchor that keeps him grounded, then HC is XL’s wings that allow him to fly.

Bonus:

XL: “I thought you hated cheesy lines-“

HC: “Not if it’s with Gege.”

XL: ...

HC: ...

XL: “Okay now that was really chees-“

HC: *interrupts XL with a kissy kiss*

《IV》

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

The Next One’s on You

A/N: This came out of nowhere and now it’s my first mini series. A series of moments in the life of Maxwell Lord and reader around drinks. Let me know if you would like to be added to a tag-list. Thank you to @thisisthe-wayson​ for listening to me ramble about this! :D This will be five chapters total! 

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F! Reader 

Warning: 18 + for language and smut in later chapters. 

Taglist: @josepedropascal @heythere-mel @mrschiltoncat @oldstuffnewstuff @justanotherblonde23 @yespolkadotkitty  My Masterlist 

Chapter 1: Triple Espresso.

“Triple espresso, hot, scalding hot,” you look up from where you are crouched under the counter putting away the extra milk to see a hand smack down, the golden ring on his pinky glittering under the cheap fluorescents. 

“I’ll be with you in just a moment sir,” you finish your task and hear the obvious displeasure as he sighs, his ring impatiently tapping on the counter. 

You brush yourself off, and go wash your hands quickly before grabbing your pen and turning to take the order. When you look at the customer you stop. Holy shit, Maxwell Lord is standing before you. His blonde hair gleams not a single strand out of place, sunglasses resting on the edge of his distinctive nose, and his broad shoulders enveloped in an expensive suit. The whole outfit probably cost more than your rent for the next three months. 

You shake your head and smile, “I’m sorry about the wait sir, what can I get you this beautiful morning?” 

“Triple espresso, scalding hot,” he pushes a ten across the counter and walks away. Sitting down at one of the single seater tables he grabs the business section of the paper and cracks it open. The sound echoes off the walls of the empty shop, the morning rush long over. 

You put the grounds into the machine and turn it on to the hottest setting, staring intently at him as it brews. He never removes the sunglasses, his knee crossed over shows off a pair of black and pink polka dot socks, his coat unbuttoned revealing a solid colored vest and brightly patterned tie beneath it. Lips turned down into a frown as he reads something he doesn’t like snapping the paper shut. He gazes over at you, eyes running up and down your body, “See something you like?” 

You jump and pull the brew from the machine and into the paper cup, bringing it over to him. Palms sweaty you brush them against your pants before ringing them together, “Is there anything else I can get you?” 

“Yes,” he finally removes the sunglasses and gazes up at you, “What do I have to do to fuck you?” 

Your jaw drops, eyes blinking rapidly, “excuse me?” you stutter.  

“It’s been awhile and you’re beautiful so what’s the price? Diamonds? Money?” he folds the newspaper and leans back in the chair taking the paper cup. 

You snap your jaw closed, and lean back crossing your arms scoffing, “You can’t be fucking serious?”

“I am serious,” you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. The strong neck clenching as he smiles catching you watching. You take a step back, “I am not some cheap whore you can just buy for a few hours of pleasure. Who the hell do you think you are?” 

He stands and towers over you taking a step closer, “Maxwell Lord the fourth,” he says it so confidently his eyes beaming, “And I never used the word cheap, you would be well compensated.” 

“We’ll come back to the part where you didn’t deny you see me as a whore,” you spit out, “But let me tell you something Maxwell Lord the fourth, I don’t give a damn who you are. You can take your fancy suits, espresso, and sunglasses and get the hell out of here!” You point towards the door where you notice two guards in suits are planted outside. 

He rolls his eyes, “I saw you watching me, you think I’m attractive why don’t we just go out to my car and you can suck my dick and then if you’re a good girl I’ll let you fuck me.” He smiles and gestures toward the door again. 

You spin around grabbing the nearest item and chucking it at him. The cup explodes as it hits his chest and sprays his face in the leftover latte. He rubs at his eyes and then looks at you incredulously, “In your dreams,” you hiss going into the back room and slamming the door. 

You lean against it and slide down putting your head in your hands, “Fuck,” you whisper, “I am so fired,” you knead your eyes. What a fucking prick. The tinkle from the bell at the door rings and you hustle to look through the small window in the door. Barely catching the tail end of him as he slides into the limo, peeling away from the curb with a squeal. 

You grab the mop and bucket from the closet, and walk back out to the shop. The creamy sickly sweet drink drips off the edge of the table and onto the floor. You wipe down the remaining and mop up the rest. The rest of the day goes by uneventful and when you clock out you trudge home to your third floor walkup. Your other two roommates are gone for the evening, you have the place to yourself. Pouring a glass of white wine and plopping onto the couch, turning the TV on. 

You groan as one of Maxwell Lord’s infomercials pops up and you watch for a few seconds before reaching for a pillow and tossing it at the TV. “Asshole,” you mumble, changing the channel. You drink a second glass of wine and try to forget but you can’t stop thinking about him. Getting up to refill your glass, you turn off the TV and walk into the small kitchen. 

You bite your lip thinking about the way the three piece suit fit so snuggly on his broad shoulders. His lips pursed as he read the paper, and how his thick fingers tapped on the counter. How would those hands feel wrapped around you, a bruise where his ring digs into your thigh as those lips wrap around... whoa what the fuck!? You pour the rest of the wine down the sink and go take a cold shower. 

The next morning you trudge into work fully expecting it to be your last day but the manager Giselle greets you with a smile and goes about the process of opening. The whole day you're on pins and needles waiting for him to make some dramatic entrance and ruin your life. But, when your shift ends and he still hasn’t shown you let out a relieved sigh.

 “Oh uhm y/n,” Giselle calls and you freeze blood turning cold. “This was outside the door waiting for you,” she goes into the backroom and comes back out holding a large glass vase overflowing with white roses. 

“Holy shit,” you mumble under your breath, taking it from her. 

“There was also this card,” she passes it over to you and you quickly tear it open. 

You read the note three times before you shiver looking at her, mumbling a thank you and leaving. The flowers are heavy and luckily your neighbor Mr. Warren holds the door open for you. Taking the stairs two at a time you put down the flowers on the kitchen counter and pull out the card again reading it a fourth time, hands trembling. 

Next time the drinks are on you. M.L. IV 

Oh fuck, what have you gotten yourself into now.

Chapter Two: Vodka Martini