#he softens to reel him in? its never genuine

[lcvejcys]

the girlypop urge to private god only knows because my perceptions of alex and nigel as characters has shifted soso much since i started writing. therefore, everytime i sit down to draft or write, im writing them as something i see as ooc because i cant justify the sudden character change because of the context of the fic

its very AAAAAAAA.

[tender-rosiey]

kneel — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: more utterly devoted gojo? sign me up

you and satoru stroll side by side, the usual banter flowing easily between the two of you. it’s been a relatively calm day—an unusual but welcome change from the usual whirlwind of sorcerer duties and school life.

both of you savor this rare moment of tranquility together.

as you pass the rows of neatly trimmed hedges, satoru suddenly chuckles to himself, a broad grin spreading across his face.

the sound of his laughter is light and carefree. you raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, "what’s so funny?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he turns his head to glance at you, his eyes glinting mischievously behind his signature blindfold, "y’know, I realized something recently," he says, his tone casual, almost teasing.

you hum in response, waiting for the punchline of whatever random thought has captured his attention. "oh yeah? what’s that?"

satoru slows his pace and then stops, his head tilted slightly as if he's carefully weighing his words.

the light plays over his features, highlighting the contours of his face in a way that makes him look both relaxed and contemplative.

with a lighthearted chuckle, he hums, "all you have to do is breathe, and I’d kneel for you,” he grins at you, “must be nice having the strongest sorcerer wrapped around your finger, huh?"

the words hang in the air, the warm light of the setting sun seeming to pause around you. you blink, stunned. the casual nature of his declaration is in stark contrast to the intensity of the sentiment.

who says something like that so nonchalantly? you stare at him, trying to decipher if he’s being serious or if he’s just messing with you, as he so often does.

satoru resumes his leisurely stroll, his steps light and carefree. his posture is relaxed, a picture of ease in comparison to your flustered self.

you catch up with him, your mind still reeling from his unexpected statement. a soft laugh escapes you, partly out of amusement and partly out of disbelief.

“who drops something like that and then acts like it’s nothing?” you mutter, though your heart is still racing, a mixture of affection and astonishment swirling inside you.

he glances back at you over his shoulder, that playful grin widening further.

"what? it’s true." his voice retains its casual tone, but there’s a glimmer of something more beneath the teasing—a rare flicker of sincerity that catches your attention.

you come to a halt, reaching out to grab his sleeve, gently pulling him to a stop. the gentle pressure of your hand on his arm is enough to make him pause, and he turns to face you. his grin remains, but it softens, the playful edge giving way to something more.

“satoru,” you say, your voice a little quieter now, “but I don’t need you to kneel or do anything for me.”

his expression shifts, curiosity flickering across his face, "oh?"

you step closer, wrapping your arms around him, a gesture he doesn’t hesitate on reciprocating. you take a deep breath and speak softly, “I don’t need you to be the strongest sorcerer or prove anything to me. I just want you.”

for a moment, the air between you changes.

satoru’s smile falters, just for a second. his usual playfulness is replaced with something quieter, more genuine. he looks at you with an intensity that even makes its way through the blindfold.

in fact, for a moment, his hand reaches out for the blindfold and he pulls it down under his chin.

your husband’s eyes never fail to catch you off-guard. they’re bright, so bright. though, you don’t get to appreciate them for long as he closes his eyes and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead.

your lips part in surprise, but satoru doesn’t give you the chance to react further.

because, true to form, he can’t stay serious for long, too much seriousness, and he might just cry.

so he pulls the blindfold right back up, pulling away as that familiar smirk creeps back onto his face, "so you’re saying you married me for my stunning personality and good looks?"

you laugh and roll your eyes affectionately, "exactly. you’ve got me all figured out."

he slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, so you continue walking. his grin softens, and he quips, "good! because you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, and I’m not planning on going anywhere."

“like a parasite?”

your husband lets out an incredulous gasp, pulling away from you yet again and clutching his chest. he fake sobs, “do you have hurt me everyday?!”

“aww, I am sorry,” you coo.

“really?!” he beams.

“no.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

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[krewekreep]

When he grabs your neck while drilling in you from behind. Curving you into a messy kiss. For a moment he releases his tight grip on your hips and softens his thrust the slightest bit. He deepens the kiss wrestling your tongue with his as he moves his hands to massage your breasts. You were overstimulated, no longer able to kiss him back you open your mouth for him and he growls moving one hand to choke you as the other fixates on your nipples. He’s giving his all to you and you receive it gratefully. It’s not usual for him to treat you with so much attention, so much neediness. You watched him with Fuck drunk eyes as his were closed intensely, his brow furrowed so deeply it looked as if he were scowling. His mouth rabid and unfocused against yours while plunging in you from behind. The slightest glimpse of a moan escapes him before reeling himself back in. To not lose to you in a battle only he had in his mind, he pulled you away by the hair pushing you into the mattress. He was never incredibly gentle with you but you felt as if this time he had to remind himself to remain dominant. Since you’d been under his care (kinda held hostage) he eased you into the idea of him ravishing you with sexual flirtations and promised that succumbing to him wouldn’t be all that bad. He enjoyed toying with you gradually increasing physical intimacy until you were a crumbling mess fighting against the pleasure escaping your throat as his fingers explored your warm hole. He took extra pleasure in making you fall for him and would never admit his amusement was laced in a desire to genuinely keep you.

As he continued to thrust into you he raised one leg up firmly planting it on the bed creating a deep impression that showed all he had to hold back when dealing with you. He knew his world crushing strength and unlike what anyone would think, took consideration of its usage. Yet, there were times like now as he’s almost struggling to pull out given the hot squeeze of your walls on his dick. He knew he was nearing his edge, having made you cum 3 times already. This last go round was for him. Your face and body blush, shivering as you hear him grunting ever so quietly. It turned you on to no end and began, with what little you had to give, throwing your ass back to meet his thrusts in a loud slick clapping. His moans grew louder as he quickly apprehended your arms holding them behind your back. This image of submission almost made him lose it. His thrust became punishing and you gave up just allowing him to slide you mercilessly up and down his dick. He forgot himself completely. “Ah- you’re so obedient Y/N.” You moan in wanting more praise. Knowing that you’ve grown fond of that he continues, “Mmm my little captured one.” His pace almost brutal as your eyes are falling to the back of your head and drool has slipped out of your mouth onto the bed and your torso.

You can feel how he spreads you with every hit to your core. His pace was becoming sloppier and you knew he was about to cum and fill you as much as he could. He grabs at your hair again pulling back up into a kiss. Your belly tightens and in an instance you push yourself flush on his dick cumming so hard your entire body shakes. His pace has stopped and still holding you by the hair he chuckles and without a word shoots his load into you. He watched you with a certain amusement as he feels his own fluid coating your walls and him. He pumps into you about four times. You were his official cum bucket and he wouldn’t admit how much he loved watching it leak out of you. He kisses you again, more than ever before especially during sex. But he’s still himself as he pulls out with no regard, a loud suction-esque sound that sends a shiver of pain through you. You were spent of all energy barely able to keep your eyes open hanging helplessly onto him. He brushed a finger over your forehead lightly, again amused at how easy for him it is to forget humans are fragile and weak. Not when you take him like a demon yourself. While he has the mind to fill you up some more he decided wearing you out too bad would mean a longer recovery time later. Although called many things in that respect he couldn’t be that cruel, not to you. It is only ever worth while when you practically are begging on hands and knees for him to fuck you. But your tear stricken, snot nosed, drooled covered face, the red marks on you of him forgetting himself too many times, and the sleep (by the deep rise and cave of your chest) meant it was much needed. Much deserved. He relaxed into a position where you were cradled in his lap and watched you thinking over all the presents and gifts he would collect for you. Or whether you’d need a slave assistant. Or the heart of your enemies. And you relaxed into his embrace easily unaware of your capter’s growing obsession and dire need to keep you all to himself.

Who: Sukuna, Madara, Dracula, Alucard (Hellsing), Sephiroth, Aizen, Kenpachi + any other mean fucks

Requests Open

[eris-snow]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, fluff, comfort, crying, swearing (as usual)

Been feeling a little inferior to those around me lately. It's something I'm sure we can all relate to, so I hope this brings comfort to those who feel like they're never good enough. Katsuki Bakugou is surprisingly good as a comfort character.

Today was just not your day. You've had these days. The ones when you would feel like you were about to cave inward. The days that you feel your strong front collapse because of the stress and pressure you exert on yourself.

Today isn't any different. Everyone in your class is constantly testing the limits, sky-rocketing past boundaries, while you...well, you...

You're just learning how to grow and improve. U.A. is a school where you need to aim for the top if you don't want to be left behind. Because of this, you feel like you're slipping further and further behind in class.

Momo is good at academics. Shoto is good at combat. Everyone is improving while you're trying so hard not to seem like a failure.

You're not bad, per se. But just seeing your classmates overcome their own boundaries and overtake you sow seeds of deep insecurity in your heart.

Today, was the day something finally snaps.

Bakugou comes over to help you study, armed with assessment books and dons thinned-rimmed glasses that make him look more intelligent and more mature. He still yells, mind you.

Every time you get a question wrong, he screams his head off while pointing out where you went wrong. He waits for you to solve the problem, and if you get it wrong again, the cycle continues. Rinse and repeat.

It got to the point when you were on the brink of tears, drawing a shaky breath as Bakugou eyeballed you write your equations with a quivering hand. You knew you'd asked for his help, even mentally fortressed yourself to focus on what you can do to improve, but...

"Dumbass, come on! This problem's fucking easy, an idiot like you can handle it!" Bakugou barks.

It's a final nudge over the delicately crafted wall that blocks out your emotions. A droplet of sorrow weasels its way past your defences, and your dam breaks.

Tears of helplessness flood your eyes as they splatter on your paper, your shaky hand pausing as you attempt to control these overwhelming feelings of inferiority gushing out.

Bakugou's still here, he can see everything, you scream at yourself...but your tears can't stop flowing. You just sit there, frozen, with tears streaming down your face and a trembling hand clutching your pencil so hard it could break.

Bakugou practically reels at the sight of you crying.

"I-I'm so sorry, Bakugou, I just," You sniffled, nose getting clogged up. "It's just...I-give me a minute," Grabbing a couple of tissues, you hastily blow your nose, trying to salvage the scrapes of dignity you have left.

"W-We can continue now, I just-" You try to clear your voice, or at least stable it to some degree. "That was just-"

"Fuck work, Y/n," He states bluntly, noticeably calling you by your first name. He tosses the book off your desk, slams his glasses on it and spins your chair to face him. "What, in the name of everloving hell is going on? Nah, don't shake that pretty little head of yours. Don't you lie to me," He snarls, words softening. "You're going through shit and you're clearly struggling, so What. Is. It."

A new round of tears hit your eyes as you choke back a sob. "I just-" Your voice is barely coherent now. Your watery eyes meet his, and it makes your breath hitch.

Bakugou's eyes were glowing with genuine care. Under those piercing, vermilion-red eyes, you can see his raw intentions laid bare.

He cares.

The words spill from your mouth as you babble, forcing yourself to admit the things you've wanted to hide, deny or avoid this entire term.

How you spent the entire lesson on Mathematics just barely grasping the teacher's words.

How hard you've been working.

How everything you do or try still makes it seem your improvement rate is put on the lowest setting of a slow-moving conveyor belt.

And Bakugou just...listens. He sits there patiently with an attentive gaze, each word you say making his eyes gaze softer and softer until it reeks of empathy for you.

He lets you explain how you feel, and doesn't say a word as you stuff your face with tissues and strewn them on the ground.

"You done?" He asks gruffly when you stop talking, making you nod your head vigorously at him. His eyes narrow on you, "Good,"

In a flash, he stands up and grabs you, pulling you into his embrace as he wraps his warm, comforting arms around you.

"Now listen here, Y/n," He says, voice hushed but holding conviction. "I'll say this once and I'll say it until it gets into that thick skull of yours. You have no right to work yourself down that hard. I don't care what words you're branding yourself as inside that blasted mind of yours, but you are not a failure."

He takes a deep breath and continues. "You are fucking incredible no matter how stupid you think you are, and you're already working even harder than most extras in our level. So can you please stop hurting my Y/n and realise how amazing you really are?"

Your breath catches.

My Y/n.

You must be going deaf or something. There's no way in a million years that he'd call you that.

"Bakugou-"

"Say it."

"I-I-" You bury your head into his shoulder, stumbling over the embarrassingly confident words he described you with. "I'm not a failure," Your voice wobbles. Bakugou raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"I'm fucking incredible." You say, heat rushing to your cheeks.

You both pull away as you wipe your tears away. Bakugou cracks a satisfied grin. "Good. Now screw this shit, we're getting a tub of ice cream in here. You need a goddamn break."

He doesn't fix your problems magically overnight. But that caramel ice cream is a sinful treat as Bakugou makes you take a nap right after the tub is finished.

It's the best sleep you've had in months.

--

When Kirishima hears about this the next day, he is adamently shocked that the both of you can so boldly claim that you're still "just friends".

Katsuki Bakugou is truly, a fucking idiot.

[luminetti]

𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 ༺♡༻ Chapter 3

༘⋆Notes: this chapter went a bit differently pacing wise than I originally planned! Last chapter I added a 7th prospective chapter to the navigation post because I wasn't sure if I could fit everything into just 6. I think the 7th chapter is very likely to happen, so just letting you know ch6 wont be the last. I love reading your guys' comments both here and on ao3, they're all so sweet and it's what keeps me posting so thank you to everyone who did that 💜

༘⋆ Chapters: ┆[1] ┆ [2] ┆[3]┆[4]┆[5]┆[6] ┆[7] ┆

ao3

The metal handle of the withdrawing room bore cold through your hand as you hovered in front of the door. Your mind was reeling. Gale had mentioned magic and mages that morning, and he seemed quite adamant for your presence. Bending down to peek through the rusted keyhole, you squeezed one eye shut, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was to come. Your vision was fuzzy, blurred from old bits of metal that had rusted from years of unuse.

After your eyes finally began to focus, you could just barely make out a figure on the ground, toying with what almost looked like string? Like plucking invisible thread, Gale peeled apart the translucent strands, letting bits slip through his fingers in a breath of mist. The string between his fingertips glinted in the moonlight as he redirected it into a soft wave, the line following its path and deftly falling into place. A quiet gasp escaped your lips when the final pieces settled themselves in the air like brushstrokes of greens, blues, and purples in the air. Gale had painted an aurora into the air with nothing but his hands.

The warmth of your breath hit your face as you pressed closer against the door, subconsciously leaning against it harder in hopes of somehow seeing more. Too engrossed in the display, you failed to recognize the indicative clicking of the door latch coming undone. With a creak, the door swung open into the room and spat you out onto the floor, landing behind Gale in embarrassing proximity.

Gale leaped to his feet, swiping a hand through the aurora and waving away the remnants of the sparkling colors into the moonrays. “Gods, you caught me practicing,” he mumbled, brushing the dust from his clothes and smoothing the wrinkles. “I thought I had prepared well enough but– are you alright?”

Scrambling from the floor, you nodded, far too starstruck to answer him properly. “Aurora– in the air– moving with your fingers–” your sentences spewed out like strands of word vomit, unable to finish a single thought before beginning another. Mimicking his gestures from earlier, you waved your hands around, hoping they would convey your questions better than your words. You had to know more.

Gale paled and clasped his hands around yours to steady your erratic movements. “Please don’t be alarmed,” he begged, “I wanted to tell you, There just wasn’t– Never the right time–” Gale caught himself from blithering any further and took a deep breath. “Let us start over–”

“I’m not,” you interjected, forcing Gale to fall silent. “Not alarmed, I mean.” Grabbing one of the nearby chairs, you dragged it towards the center of the room and sat. “Don’t restart. I want this.” You motioned to himself and your surroundings. “I want it to be genuine. You in your entirety.” 

His jaw softened and he nodded silently. “I suppose I’d quite like that…” He began, looking around the room for inspiration. “I had something more ostentatious planned, but that doesn’t feel right anymore.” Gale’s eyes locked onto your unfinished painting of Euphemia’s garden. “This however…”

You watched in a daze as Gale swept a hand over the canvas, the dried paint morphing at his touch. It was as if a breeze had come over the painting. What was once static scenery of flowerbeds and grass spotted through a window, now had begun to ripple. Each individual flower and blade of grass swayed as if it was caught in the wind and even the graphite outline of the window’s curtains drifted lightly.

Gale stood off to the side and faced the painting. Cupping his hands around his lips, he blew a puff of air and the garden trembled as if a gust of wind had blown through the field. As the wind grew stronger the curtains billowed and petals detached from their stems. One of the flowered bushes shook in the wind more ferociously than the others, shaking harder and harder until a single flower snapped off the branches.

The flower–small and pink–flew around the painting, carried by the wind which had now slowed to a zephyr. As the flower drifted closer, the pointed petals and golden center became more apparent. It was a sweet brier. Rosa rubiginosa, as Euphemia calls it. But more commonly known as–

“An eglantine rose,” Gale mused, catching the painted flower as it emerged from the canvas. Twirling it in his fingers, he carefully plucked off the small thorns covering the stem. Once cleared, he bent down and tucked it neatly behind your ear. “Your favorite, if I’m not mistaken?”

Dumbfounded, you raised a hand to stroke the flower sitting in your hair. Sure enough, the petals were smooth and velvet-like. It was a real eglantine rose. “I’m impressed you remembered…” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. It was hard to fight the rosiness creeping up your neck, accompanied by a familiar sense of transparency, though different than before. You weren’t quite sure if you minded it or not. It felt as though Gale could see right through you, or that you were bare before him. And yet, you made no move to cover yourself. 

“If that trick isn’t called ‘gale force winds’ then I’ll be highly disappointed.”

Gale snorted, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I’ll admit I’ve never attempted to name any of my abilities before. Though, I suppose I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything like that on my own.” 

“It’s a pity you’ll lose my naming prowess when you depart.”

“A day I have come to dread, it seems.” He chuckled nervously and slipped a hand into his pocket, retrieving a small coin purse. “I suppose I was dreading it more than I realized.” Undoing the drawstring, Gale produced a small necklace from the pouch. Hanging from the thin chain was a crystal pendant, unceremonious and unassuming. “When I eventually return to Waterdeep, I want to leave you with something… Apologies, I wasn’t sure what jewelry you preferred.”

You took the necklace in your hand, rolling the gemstone between your fingers. It looked deceptively light. The pendant bore a surprising amount of weight, indicative of high quality material. 

“This is for me? Really?”

Gale nodded, chewing on his lower lip as he watched your expression closely.

A glimmer from within the necklace caught your eye. Suspended in the clear pendant were engraved stars, shining with all the colors of a sunset sky.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, undoing the clasp and holding it out for him to fasten around your neck.

Gale hurriedly took the chain and positioned himself behind you, draping the cold metal over your neck and lifting your hair aside.

You forced yourself to still and let his warm fingers brush against the nape of your neck as he fiddled with the fastener.

“That is most gratifying to hear,” He said, motioning for you to turn once he finished. “I would’ve asked whether you liked silver or gold, but I…” Gale trailed off, his eyes locking onto the pendant hanging just beneath your collarbone. Clearing his throat, his gaze flicked back up to meet your own. “It suits you nicely.”

You reached up to feel the necklace against your skin. “I rarely wear jewelry outside of balls. But this,” you closed your fingers around the crystal. “This I believe I’ll be wearing for a while.”

Gale raised an eyebrow, looking from the necklace, to the flower in your hair, then back to you. “You’ve been to the balls this season? How could I possibly have missed you?”

You fidgeted with the necklace. You were never particularly lucky when it came to courting. Ballroom dancing felt too monotonous to be worthwhile and in sensing your discomfort, no suitor had requested a second dance in one night. There was another time when a suitor had professed his undying devotion with a bouquet of amaranth barely a day after you mentioned your aversion to pollen.

Euphemia excitedly told you that amaranth represented longevity and in this case, longevity of love. You, however, found it to be the longevity of sneezing, which eventually solidified the poor suitor’s rejection.

Finally, you shrugged. “I don’t suppose we run in quite the same circle, Viscount.”

A warm hand brushed against your temple, slipping a couple strands of hair that threatened to cover your eyes off to the side. “I must be in the wrong circle then.” The back of Gale’s hand trailed down the side of your cheek and rested underneath your chin, gently tilting your face to look up at him.

Just as you began to feel his warm breath on your lips, the doors swung open once more and Euphemia strode in, her nose deep in a newspaper.

“Scandal of the season!” She cried, pacing back and forth in the room, not once looking up. “Newly made Dowager Duchess Mystra of Waterdeep swarmed with suitors come the following of Duke Elminster Aumar’s passing,” she recited, frantically flipping to the next page.

The warmth of Gale immediately disappeared as he rushed to read over Euphemia’s shoulder with you in quick pursuit.

“The mother of magic retreats in mourning and withdraws from the shortly upcoming ball hosted by Duke Ravengard of the Sword Coast,” she continued, letting Gale take the paper and read himself.

You rose to your tiptoes, trying to skim the paper over Gale’s tall frame. “The mother of magic? I thought she was just a normal mage?”

Gale shook his head, his fingers tangled in his hair, grasping it like it would disappear from his head. “The Duke and Duchess were some of the most powerful mages in Faerûn. Just the union between the two helped ease fears of magic across all of Waterdeep and even parts of Baldur’s Gate.”

You bit your lip. The opinions on mages were already precarious. The loss of a Duke would be difficult for any region, but a Duke of arcane magic would be difficult to replace. From what it seemed, the Dowager Duchess was still excruciatingly desirable. Despite only seeing a couple portraits of her, you’ve always noted her impossibly youthful appearance. Someone of her status would have no trouble…

“Remarrying.” Gale gripped the paper so hard it began to crease in his grip. “She’s surely remarrying.”

Euphemia took the crumpled newspaper. “You think so? Her mourning will last at least another half-year, a full year until she can remarry.”

He shook his head and pressed his lips together. “Her Grace is the face of mages all over the world. She cannot just vanish from society.”

You bit your lip, feeling helpless at the sight of Gale so disheveled. “Was the Duke unhealthy?”

Gale shook his head once more. “He was healthy as can be, and that’s what worries me. I need to attend the Ravengard’s Ball. There’s people I must talk to.” 

That wasn’t possible. Gale had specifically requested for utmost discretion surrounding his presence in your manor. If he were to attend the ball, he would need to come from Waterdeep. Which meant…

“You’re leaving? Now?” You asked, reaching out and catching his wrist before you even realized you had moved.

Euphemia eyed the two of you silently. “I’ll request a carriage,” she said before turning away and leaving you alone with him..

Gale traced the flower behind your ear with a pained expression. “I know, I’m sorry it’s sooner than either of us would’ve liked.”

“Let me come with you,” you begged.

A hand snakes up your waist to lay over the necklace. From beneath his palm, your skin thrummed with warmth emitted a soft white light. When he pulled away after what felt like ages, the small pendant purred with life, glowing and dimming repetitively like a heartbeat. “If you need me, touch the crystal to relay a message. No matter where you are I will hear it and find you.”

“And if I come to the ball? Would you save a dance for me?” You leaned into him, memorizing the feel of his touch.

Gale nodded. “I’d put myself down on your dance card ten times if I must.”

You smiled sadly as he pulled away. “I’ll have quite the lonely eleventh dance.”

He took one step closer and tapped the necklace making it sway gently. “You only need to ask.” With a final parting glance, Gale let your joined hands drop as he turned and exited the room. You watched him thank Euphemia, asking her to give regards to Sebastian for him until finally Gale stepped into the prepared carriage and disappeared off into the night.

As you stood in the doorway staring out into the empty hallway, you felt the necklace thrum against your chest. Like a passing whisper caught in the wind, you felt the faintest voice in the back of your head. Goodnight, Tav.

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[cherievol6]

crying in the backseat - pt II

PART ONE

word count: around 3k

warnings: swearing, lots and lots of sap, harry being cute (😡)

.

“Thanks for coming over, I really appreciate you answering my message.”

You nod and smile politely, eyes travelling around the glass shelving in the centre of the room, a few books displayed here and there, a particularly prominent one in the middle, propped next to a gold plaque. This is the only book that reads New York Times Bestseller, and you suddenly click the pieces together.

“Oh wow, bestseller? That’s incredible.” You remark, pointing to the book. She smiles, thanking you sweetly before offering you a drink and a seat on her plush sofa. You felt awkward, to say the least, but you weren’t about to be rude to this girl, when she graciously invited you into her London flat to sort things out.

“I have Harry’s team to thank for that one.” She raises her eyebrows, nodding less than enthusiastically, and although it makes you stiffen, you reply firmly, “No, you have your own penmanship to thank. They just gave you that extra push.”

Her face softens at this. “See, you’re such a nice person. That’s why I wanted to ask you over. I don’t like having bad blood with women, it doesn’t sit right with me.”

“There’s no bad blood here, trust me.” You laugh weakly, “I’m the least confrontational person you’ll meet.”

“At least let me apologise above all Y/N. It was my fault the meeting ended up with a few drinks here and there, I wasn’t at all trying to take Harry away from your commitments. I genuinely had no idea. I really don’t want you to think I was scheming, my best friend just showed up with shots at the table because we found out that night that my book outsold most in its genre.” She laughs nervously, her cheeks turning pink, and you suddenly feel bad for the bitter thoughts you had about her. You shake your head, taking a sip from you tea and puffing out a breath.

“No, God, please don’t apologise. Shit, now I feel really guilty.” You laugh, pressing your hands to your cheeks to quell the blushing.

“No! Oh my god, please don’t feel bad! I would want to give me a clip around the ear if I was you.” She leans forward, placing a hand on your arm. It’s comforting, to say the least, and you feel yourself lightening slightly. This is a step forward.

“Harry is the one I want to clip around the ear, babe.”

“He would let you. That man is whipped. You should have heard how much he would go on about you when we’d go on public outings and stuff. The way he described you made me like you instantly.”

You feel your heart this quicker and avoid eye contact, wrapping your hands around the mug once again to busy them, so she wouldn’t see them shaking. What was he talking to her about?

“He’s not- we’re not…dating or anything.” You stammer. She squints and nods with an unconvinced look on her face.

“It sounded like he wished you were.” She remarks, finally taking a sip of her coffee and smiling, as if she didn’t just shatter your entire earth around you.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, the way he spoke about you two, I guess. I remember him saying that he hoped you knew each other in every walk of life, or something, because you’re like soulmates. I asked him if he meant romantically and he just went red and didn’t answer. It made me tear up so badly that I used it in my book, so please don’t tell him I told you.” She cackles. Your body feels all warm and fuzzy inside, and it’s like you’ve been carrying a heavy weight for so long that someone had finally relieved. Did Harry truthfully feel the same way as you?

“He said that?” You whisper in disbelief. She nods, knowing smile on her face. “He’s never said anything like that to my face.”

“Now I can’t speak for him, but I think he’s a little bit obsessed with you. To the point where he felt like he had to reel himself in a bit and create distance so you wouldn’t find him too much.”

She’s revealing so much information that’s answering so many questions in your head, it almost feels like Harry has scripted this out and asked her to say it verbatim back to you. You sigh shakily, digesting all of this as it comes. Him saying that he was sure the meeting was business, him missing a few of your prior commitments, because he felt like he was being too much.

“Has he ever mentioned…like? Feelings?” You stammer, ringing your hands together and looking at her innocently. Her hand is warm as it slips out of her mug and captures yours tightly.

“Y/N. The only person you can ask that question, is Harry.”

And off you went, finishing the cup of tea she made you after draining every ounce of information you could out of her brain before she was apologising and rushing out of the door beside you to meet her editor. As she departed down the street in her tall heels, she planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Go and give him a peace of your mind, and then go and tell him how you feel. It’s not worth waiting, my love. If he goes weird, let him go weird. At least you can move on with your life knowing you at least jumped at the opportunity. We only get one.”

And you could see why she was a writer, she spoke passionately, as if she was delivering a life-changing monologue in a Young Adult film set in the nineties. It made a lump form in your throat, and you had to will away tears as you stood in the bitter winter weather of West London.

Tears threaten slip hotly down your cheeks as you march down the street, ignoring the fact that it was starting the sleet, and how this was the most predictable reunion you could ever orchestrate. You’re past caring at this point, locating whereabouts you are exactly in relation to his usual studio, setting off on foot to find him. You recalled Sarah that morning saying he was going in to record that day so you figured you’d try your luck. The sight of Harry’s small yellow car stirs up something inside you when you finally reach the small jaunty studio.

“What the fuck am I doing?” You breathe, staring at the door looking bewildered. Impulse brought you here, and now you’re not sure how to let the rest of the plan unfold.

“Y/N?” A voice warms the chill in your spine from the wet snow falling, and you spin around. Harry stands at a side door down the small alleyway, phone pressed to his ear and a sad frown etched on his features.

“Hey.” You manage.

“Hi.” He matches your breathless tone.

“I- wanted. Erm…Can we talk?” You stammer, wrapping your hands around your body more to contain your body heat. He falters for a second, removing the phone and looking at the call that wasn’t going through, before looking back at you. He snaps out of his daze.

“Yeah, yes of course. Come in, I bet you’re freezing.” You almost laugh at the irony, considering you found yourselves in the cold last time your relationship went on a different trajectory. He leads you through colourful corridors, reaching a studio and pushing in. You smell his usual pumpkin scented candle he likes to take wherever he goes and needs a piece of home. It makes you feel nostalgic.

“Are you okay? Why are you on this side of London?” He queries, awkwardly shutting off a very melancholy-sounding demo that croons through the speakers, itching the back of his neck.

“I was in the area. Remembered your studio was here.” Is all you say, shrugging and perching on a beanbag in the corner of the room.

“Oh, yeah. So, erm. How have you been?” He struggles, crossing and un-crossing his legs. You watch sadly, seeing him so uneasy because you hadn’t seen each other or spoken a word for weeks was heart wrenching.

You look down at your rings and twist them around, not answering for a minute and just basking in the silence.

“Um-” your voice cracks slightly but you clear it, “I’ve been better, if I’m honest.”

His answer seems to surprise him, his eyebrows lifting slightly and then frowning. “Oh?”

You nod, feeling your bottom lip trembling. God, you were already getting emotional and you hadn’t been there for longer than ten minutes. The tears don’t spill yet, and you take it as a chance to speak through the clarity of your voice before it got even higher and thicker with tears.

“It’s been quiet without you.” You confess. He holds your eyes, bouncing his gaze between the two and sighing through his nose. He nods, rubbing his hands on his legs (something he did when nervous).

“It’s never been so silent…and tidy in my house.” He lets out a small giggle as he says it, smile stretching up his face. You shake your head, letting a tear or two slip down your cheek. A laugh splutters out of you and swipe your nose, praying that he doesn’t notice your trembling hands. “Shut up.”

He raised his hands in faux defence, and god had you missed him. A lot.

“I hate this.” You whine through the tears, “we’ve never fought like this before, H.” His face immediately softens into a sad grimace.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He shakes his head, hanging it low on his neck in defeat. “I was a shitty friend. A really, really shitty friend. Like off the scale, shitty.” You shake your head, but he goes on, “I was too caught up in making my boss happy and making my career better to focus on the one person who means the most to me.”

You’re not even sure if you can classify the feeling in your stomach as butterflies, because it feels more like an overwhelming bout of nausea, almost as if you’re back on a ferry as a child, leaning over the edge and hoping you don’t fall.

“Me?” Your voice is small and he gives you a deadpan look.

“No, Sarah.” He jests. “Of course it’s you. God, you don’t know half of the things I would do for you, do you?”

You wipe the tears from your lashes and duck your head, feeling slightly shy at his words. Now’s the time to tell him, you think.

Your heart thuds and you rub the sweat from your palms to quell your anxiety. This moment had awaited you for too long, and you think here, right now, in the middle of a random studio in London, you’re about to tell Harry that you love him. And that you’ve loved him since you can remember.

“I feel that way about you too. But, not in the sense that you’d think…” he swallows and you don’t even dare raise your eyes from their fixed place on his neck, “I guess, the reason I was so angry that day, was because you mean a lot to me. It’s hard feeling like the person you love hasn’t got time for you…”

“You know I’ve got love for you too, Y/N-“

“That’s where we differ, because I’m in love with you. Like, pathetically in love with you?” Your voice tail ends like a question, because you’re full of insecurity. The tears are free-flowing now, and your body is trembling as though you’re still stuck in the sleet. “…And I’m fucking sick of keeping it to myself, Harry, okay? I’ve had it with me for too long.”

“Y/N…” his solemn tone throws you off, and it kicks your body into action.

“No, Harry, please. If you’re going to shoot me down, it’s fine. Don’t bother. I just needed you to know that, okay?” You’re full on crying now, standing up as if you’re going to leave. Harry beats you to it, surging forward and grabbing your shoulders gently.

“Y/N. Please don’t go. Just hear me out.” He pleads, ducking his chin to look into your eyes. You finally meet his gaze and his eyes are like marbles, a sheen to them as though he’s ready to start crying to. He lets out a breath in disbelief and shakes his head, looking down before looking back up.

“I’ve been writing like crazy since our fight. Like, song after song, yeah? I really tried to tap into the feeling of you leaving, and it all just came out of me like a river…” his head cocks to the multitude of scribbling over papers strewn across the room.

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty, because it’s working—”

“No! No. Y/N. You’re not getting it. I’ve been writing about you. You’re my muse, because…well- I- I love you too. But like, love you, love you. Not in a friendly way. And I meant what I said, when I told you I need you…to do all of this.” He gestures to the studio around him, but you know he means generally, living the life he has now.

“You’re the one consistent thing I’ve had since I was a teenager, and I don’t fucking want to change that now. I’m not me without you, y’know. Just ask Mitch, I’ve been a grumpy fucker these past weeks.”

The small punctuation of humour makes you laugh sadly, feeling his thumb come up to brush your cheeks and wipe the wetness that now trails down your neck and on to your scarf.

“Really?” You pout, letting out another cry when he nods, finally embracing you tightly to his body. He laughs through a couple of shed tears and kisses you on the cheek.

“I hate seeing you cry. Got me all emotional now.” He tuts, sniffling. You pull back, completely unbothered about how crazy you look with your makeup running down your face, eyes set on his lips as you boldly weave your fingers through his hair. All of the tension and multitude of emotions boiled up to this point, and you could feel the yearning almost emanating off you. Seeing him and getting emotional almost toppled the cup of feelings you had for him, and now you couldn’t stop the overflow. His nose leans against yours and he blinks slowly, a small smile on his face. You tease your lips towards his but he pulls back.

“Oh yeah?”

“Are you gonna kiss me, or what, you prick?”

“Looking like that? Of course.” He jokes, and you smack his shoulder.

“Ow! Joking.” He grins, but it soon drops and he leans forward, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You grip his collared shirt and sigh, the feeling of his lips on yours for the first time making your heart swell with love. The kiss is innocent, and sweet, the slowness of it reflecting both of your wishes of how you want this thing to begin.

“Hm. Love you.” He breathes against your lips, wrapping his arms tighter around you, pressing your bodies impossibly closer together. “I love you so fucking much.”

You pull away, “Don’t fucking talk like that because I’ll start crying again.”

“You’re just a sap, I think.” He teases, pushing hair out of your forehead and kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Oh yeah? What’s that little demo you were playing as I walked in, hm?” You try and wrestle from his hold to press the play button. He strains, holding your body tightly and laughing loudly.

“It was my backup plan to come and confess my love to you in the rain with a boom box, but you already orchestrated the whole 90s romantic comedy thing, so…”

“Thin ice.” You warn, but both of your actions hold nothing but malice as you realise you really enjoy kissing one another. He flicks the button and a warm reverb of a guitar huns through the studio, making you pull away and listen in awe. His voice holds nothing but sadness and pain, and it twists your insides like a cloth being wrung.

“You know,” you mumble over the music in the studio, “this is the saddest song I’ve ever slow danced to, I think.” he’s swaying your body gently from side to side now, a small grin on his face. His eyes are deep like wells, but in the way that seems like they’re guarding so much emotion behind them, that can’t be conveyed with words.

“I wrote this one after going on a date with a girl that looked exactly like you, but just wasn’t… you.” He confesses, rubbing his hand in circles over your back. You quietly listen to the lyrics and observe him, seeing how he is practically laying himself bare for you to take. You want to feel jealous, at what he says, but you can’t. Not when a song as personal as this was written when yearning the absence of you.

“I think you’re my soulmate too, Harry. You know that?” You whisper. If his expression could turn even more sappy than before, it does, before it contorts in confusion. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“She told you, didn’t she?”

You burst out laughing, stopping his complaining with a deeper kiss to his lips. He hums, pinching your hip.

“Maybe. You’re a true artiste with your words, honey.” His mouth twitches at the pet name. “I’d keep an eye out for plagiarism, though, apparently you and I are the muse for her next publishing.”

“Is that right?” You nod.

“Better give her a good story then, hm?”

.

HERE IT IS! this was the umpteenth draft and my brain is now frazzled. i’m really happy with it, so i hope you enjoy my loves. thanks for the support and the kind words! it’s a bit longer than the first, you’re welcome ;) - M x

[dilfdarling]

Control

[Otto Octavius x Enhanced!Reader]

[Part 6]

[Part 5] [Part 4] [Part 3] [Part 2] [Part 1]

Summary: Why not spill your guts? What's the worst that could happen?

Warnings: MAJOR NWH SPOILERS!! Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Choking, Death

A/N: Starts chanting: soft Otto, Soft Otto, SOFT OTTO! I love Otto so much!!! It may take a bit for the next chapter(s) to come out, as it will be smut and I will be writing two separate versions of it! Hope you enjoy this one!! DUE TO PERSONAL REASONS, I HAVE DISCONTINUED THE TAG LIST FOR THIS, AND MOST LIKELY OTHER, FIC(S).

You wandered behind Peter, trying to keep a good distance from everyone. You felt weird and horrible and you wanted nothing more than to be clean. Your bloody, tear covered clothes were becoming gross and you were becoming distressed.

Peter opened the door to one of the condos and rushed you all in. You looked over at the camera on the wall and pouted. You could hear Happy now- ‘Peter, why is a wanted hero in my home? Why are their eyes so red and puffy?’

You walked further into the home and waited around, awkwardly, for Peter to address everyone. When he hurried in and went to the back room you furrowed your brows. He was moving fast and talking even faster. He wanted to try fixing Otto first. His actuators had taken control of him, and Peter just knew he could fix it. Not everyone was so sure, you had hope though. You needed to have hope.

You sat down on the couch, on the opposite from Flint and brushed away the sand around you.

“Sorry,” Flint mumbled, catching your attention.

“It’s fine, I think this is the least horrible thing that has happened to me in the past day.”

Flint let out a nervous laugh. There was intense awkwardness in the air. You accepted the fact everything was going to be awkward for you from that point onward. You watched Otto from across the room, and listened as Peter and Norman worked in the other one. You tensed as May approached Otto with a cup of water.

“Thirsty?”

“Why, yes, I am.”

You leaned forward and watched their interaction closely.

“Freshwater or saltwater?”

“What?” Otto was reeling.

“Cause you’re an octopus!” May gave him a smile.

Otto only furrowed his brows. Causing May’s smile to turn awkward, “Fresh water it is.”

You snorted, a smile spreading on your face. Otto was genuinely confused. Peter and Norman came running in shortly after. Peter asked for May to raise Otto and she was quick to use the nano tech hologram to force him into the air. Otto was very vocal about how he was not wanting to comply.

You stood from your spot on the couch and watched as Peter held Otto by his head, trying to put his new chip in. With every part of your body tense, you waited with bated breath and Peter finally inserted it in. Otto’s head fell and so did your heart. Your face softened and Peter called out for him.

Norman, along with everyone else in the room, grew tense. You clutched the hem of your shirt in your fist and watched Otto for what felt like an eternity.

Once he inhaled, every single bit of air in your lungs came out in one loud sigh. You shut your eyes and smiled to yourself. Once you opened your eyes you watched Otto again, your eyes never leaving him as he lowered himself to the floor and gave Peter his nanotech back.

Everything became a blur, you were unsure of what was going on, other than Otto thanking Peter. You were just thankful Otto was still alive and well.

“Y/N…” Otto brought you back to reality. You looked up at him as he walked towards you. “Dear…” He brought you into a hug, and you crumbled. Your whole body relaxed and you buried your face in his chest. You hugged him back tightly, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. His left hand found its place on your lower back and his right one on the back of your head. He pulled you closer into him and every single one of your worries seemed to disappear.

“Thank you.” His voice was low and soft, but the others could definitely still hear him, “Thank you for showing me kindness-”

You pulled back and looked up at him, your chin resting on his chest, “It was the least I could do, really.”

“If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be-”

“If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be here. I’d still be sad, and lonely.”

Otto inhaled sharply and you could only smile up at him. Everyone’s eyes were on you, and you were suddenly very aware of that. You pulled, gently, away from Otto and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s help everyone else.”

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

Norman watched you, closer than you really wanted, and your walls were immediately back up. Something was off. You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but eventually you chalked it down to anxiety.

“Y/N,” Norman began to speak.

Your eyes immediately scanned the room for Otto or Peter, but eventually settled back on the man talking to you. Your hands gripped the glass cup in your hands and you forced a small smile, “Yeah?”

Norman gave you a concerned look, “You alright?”

“Just, um-” Regretting every single thing I’ve said since meeting all of you, “thinking.”

Norman nodded, seeming to agree with that sentiment, “You can’t use your abilities without a nose bleed. Do you have any other issues?”

Something in you screamed to not talk to him about anything, but you could not help yourself. You were in a spot you hadn’t been in, since, well, you thought you were saved by the Avengers. But, you had come to the conclusion, nothing is what it seems to be, not anymore.

He wants to help me, you nodded to yourself, he’s looking out for me. “Uh, I’ve never really had to put my feelings into words before, this may be confusing, even for a scientist like yourself.” Norman nodded and seemed to narrow in on you, and you alone, “When I get those nosebleeds, they drain me. Everything in me. You saw what happened with Stephen. And, when I heal-” Your grip tightened on the cup in your hands, “It’s even worse it seems. I was healing Otto, he was about to die, and then I felt like I was too-” You were becoming frantic. “And someone died while I was holding on to him and I felt every fucking thing he felt-”

The glass cup in your hands exploded from your grip and you gasped. The glass fell from your hands and thudded against the ground. Your eyes were wide and your heart was pounding. Norman grabbed your wrist and you flinched back, eyes wide with fear.

“You’re bleeding.” His voice was soft.

All eyes were on you again. You looked down at your hands and blood formed where glass had wedged its way into your skin. A hand was on the small of your back instantly and leading you towards the kitchen sink. Your eyes moved up and you relaxed, letting yourself be led away.

“You get carried away, a lot, don’t you dear?” Otto smiled down at you and could only nod. “Peter, is there alcohol here?”

“Is this payback?” You couldn’t help but smile up at Otto. Your hands placed upward over the kitchen sink, Otto’s gloved ones holding yours gently.

Otto answered with a laugh, and your face began to heat up. You were completely enthralled by him, his calming presence and his soft eyes. The way he gently held your hands to not hurt you. Everything about him was overtaking all of you and you almost forgot there were other people in the room. Almost.

“Uh,” Flint caught your attention, “can’t you just heal yourself?”

“No, dude,” Max started in on him, “have you been listening?”

Peter handed Otto some alcohol and a pair of tweezers. Otto began to pluck the glass from your hands, gently, carefully. Making sure to not hurt you. You winced once, and Otto apologized.

“Now I know how you feel.” He mumbled, focusing closely on the pieces of glass in your hand.

You snorted, and tried to focus on something other than your hands. You looked back at everyone else in the condominium and noticed their eyes just sitting on you and Otto. You shifted uncomfortable and Otto quietly asked for you to be still.

“I forgot you couldn’t heal at the moment, I’m sorry if-”

You smiled at Flint, and his awkwardness. “It’s alright! Really. I can’t heal myself anyway. Never have been able to, only others.”

“You can’t heal yourself?” Norman gave you a curious look.

“No…” With your guard back up, you shook your head, “I guess they didn’t get to that part of the experiment.”

Peter was quick to make a face, his eyes widening and his body tensing, “I have your fix ready Max!” Peter approached the man and you couldn’t have been more thankful for that interruption.

“This is going to hurt,” Otto caught your attention once more, “I’m sorry.”

You did not get the chance to tell him it was going to be fine. You jumped as alcohol poured onto your hands, a yelp escaping you. The roles had reversed and you really were not used to that. You thought about the alcohol you had put on Otto’s wounds just days ago and finally understood how he felt.

Your hands were bandaged and wrapped, and Otto, Peter, and Norman were trying to help everyone else. Peter approached you, and began to ask you more about the situation, but came to a quick halt.

He began to visibly panic, his eyes scanning the room. You reached out to touch his shoulder, grab for him, but you brought your hand back to you. You clasped your hands tightly together as the absolute confusion and fear radiated off of Peter. He looked around the room, his eyes seemed to settle on Max, who did not take kindly to that.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

Peter’s hand raised and he aimed it at Norman, quickly hitting his web shooter. You watched in horror as Norman’s face contorted.

“That’s some neat trick.” His voice had completely changed, “That sense of yours.”

“Norman?”

“Norman’s on sabbatical, honey.”

Your insides began twisting with fear. You could see Aunt May moving in your peripheral vision and you wanted nothing more than to run. But you were stuck beside Otto, waiting for everyone’s untimely demise. You leaned against Otto, and you felt nothing more than terror.

Green Goblin’s whole speech became background noise and blood rushed through your ears. Everything was a blur and something was wrong. Something was off.

“Gods don’t have to choose.” He caught your attention once more, “We take.”

Hell broke loose. Peter alerted May to run. And run she did.

Max and Norman both broke free, and Max was quick to pull the arc reactor from the other room. You sat, a deer in headlights, as chaos ensued around you. Otto was fast to push you behind him, keep you safe. Ultimately though, you knew you didn’t need that. Something was happening, you could feel it, and nothing was going to stop it.

“Oh my god,” Otto moved, protecting you from Max, “What have you done?”

“I liked you better before.”

You moved from behind Otto and looked at Peter and Norman. “I promise,” You looked up at him, marking an 'x' over your heart. “I’ll be okay.” He gave you a knowing look, and made his way towards Max, who was quick to blast him out of the building.

You could only stand, and watch, in horror. Peter swung for Norman, landing a hit, but it wasn’t effective at all. Norman was quick to launch him through the window of the condo, but Peter caught himself, on Norman’s chest, and pulled himself back into that apartment. Norman grabbed the webs and flung him through the sliding glass door onto the patio.

Norman’s eyes locked onto yours and you felt smaller than ever. Suddenly, your vision became blurred, and you were the smallest thing in the room. Your mouth was dry and your breath was caught in your chest.

“Oh, Y/N…what are we going to do with you…” Norman closed in on you, his eyes dark and full of hatred, “You were worked on; poked and prodded, and yet, you’re still so weak.” His voice came out in a low growl.

“I-”

His hand was around your throat and you were up against the wall. Both of your hands immediately grabbed his forearm and pulled. Hard. His hand only tightened around your neck and you tried to scream for Peter. For anyone. Nothing seemed to come out.

“All you do is comply. Saved from some facility by heroes, and you never questioned their authority. You helped Otto, no questions asked.” His grip tightened with every word, your mind was growing foggy and your eyes were shutting. “You spill your guts to us, without a second thought. So trusting, so fucking-”

“Let Y/N go!”

He pushed you further into the wall and you let out a small whine, and without looking away from you, he spoke. “Stop, unless you want me to crush their fucking throat.”

Peter could only watch you. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you were unable to swallow. Your grip loosened on his forearm, but your hands did not fall.

“I’ll be sure to tell Otto exactly how you took your last breaths.”

Your struggling stopped, and what you could only assume was your life, began to flash before your eyes.

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

Something in you had snapped. You were standing in the middle of the street, cops surrounding you. A foul grin spread across your face as you dropped to your knees, putting your hands above your head.

“Do not move!” One of the men yelled at you.

All of them seemed to be terrified to even be in your presence. They wore sound cancelling ear covers and every single one of their guns were pointed right at you.

The man at the front of the force, the one that carried the most confidence, noticed your expression and his finger moved to the trigger. You closed your eyes, and inhaled. You could feel every single person in that area, their minds free for the taking.

You let out a low laugh. Your eyes snapped open, pitch black and the officer let out a yell. He screamed for the men to fire. He screamed and screamed, his hands shaking and his body tense. You watched as he dropped the gun, fear taking over his body. His eyes glazed over and he began to take off in a sprint, running right into his own men. You watched with darkened eyes as his own men began to turn on him. Every single one of them turned to their own leader, their guns raised and their eyes black.

You turned away and covered your ears as gunshots rang through the city. You stood up and cocked your head as you saw something coming closer to you in the sky. With furrowed brows you pointed towards it, every single one of the officers turned, all at once, their guns now pointing at the thing getting closer.

“Iron Man?” You snorted and crossed your arms. “What the fuck is he doing?”

He landed in front of you, and started to walk towards you, but didn’t budge. You kept the men pointing their guns at him, but you made sure they didn’t pull the trigger.

“You’re not wearing any ear pieces… You do know what I'm capable of, right?”

“You’re not going to control me. Or kill me.”

A laugh, loud and confident, escaped you. “I was trapped in some scientist’s basements for months, and heard nothing from anyone. I lost my fucking father. No one came for, not a single soul. My dad is dead, and now-”

Electricity began to shoot through you as something jabbed you in the back. A loud scream ripped from your throat and you fell to your knees. The sound of guns hitting the ground and feet running off was the only thing you could hear. Something hard hit you in the temple and you were completely on the ground, eyes shut.

“Natasha… I wasn’t finished-”

“Yeah, I know, I finished it.”

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

Warmth beginning to drip down your nose brought you back to where you were. Suddenly, you remembered your situation. Norman had you pinned to the wall, throat in his hand. He was laughing as you sat limp.

Your grip tightened once more on his forearm, eyes shooting open. His confident look twisted into confusion. You were not going to die by his hand. You may have had little, but there was still something to live for. Your pupils began to blow wide and Norman’s eyes turned black as well. You were dropped and your grasp on Norman faltered. You gasped for air and Peter was quick to move in on Norman.

“Run!” He shouted at you.

Stumbling and gasping and dazed, you started sprinting. Unsure of where you were headed, your brain still mush from the oxygen deprivation. You heard May and regained some of your senses. You ran for her.

“May!”

You were still struggling. But you caught her attention. She turned to you and she froze, looking at you with wide eyes. Her stare softened and her hand raised towards you.

“Honey… Your neck…”

“We gotta-” You inhaled sharply, “We gotta go-”

The lobby before you crumbled. Peter and Norman fell through the floor and Norman was steadily beating the shit out of Peter. Everything that had been going on, everything that was coming back, it was causing you to freeze. You stood there, unable to think about moving. May moved, though.

She ran towards Norman and slammed the serum Peter had been working on into his neck. She ran towards the front exit of the building and watched as it didn’t work. Everything blurred again. Something was wrong and May wasn’t running. Peter was begging for her to leave and she wasn’t. She was ready to fight. Unlike you.

You really wished she would have ran.

His glider busted through glass, slamming into her and she went flying through the air. Peter yelled for her and you wanted nothing more than to run. Run for her. Help her. But you stood. Stood in your spot, eyes full of fear.

“No good deed goes unpunished.”

Goblin caught your attention. He brought a pumpkin bomb up and threw it, causing Peter to jump for it. It slipped by his fingers and exploded. You were blasted back and your ears began to ring. Your head had hit the wall and you were lying there, sure you had died. But Peter and May talking caught your attention, reeling you back in.

“May?”

“I need to catch my breath.”

You stood up and ran. As soon as you were in arms reach of May you were grabbing for her.

“Peter!” Your voice was loud and frantic, “Where? Where is she hurt?”

Peter’s hand moved from her back and you saw the blood. You began mumbling to May, it was going to be okay. She was going to be okay. Peter helped you lay her down in rubble and you shifted.

“I promise,” tears filled your eyes, “It’s gonna be fine.”

“My breath,” May began mumbling.

“I know…”

Your hands settled on her wound, and your hands began to warm up. A soft glow began to emit from them and you could feel the healing begin to take toll on you. You had barely started and you were already done. The glow in your hands began to fade and a scream came from your lips.

“No!” You were sobbing. Falling back, you let Peter hold her. “No…” You looked at your hands, your head becoming light, blood profusely falling from your nose. “I’m so sorry. May… Peter… I'm sorry.”

Flashbacks came in waves. Your nurse in your arms. Her bloody and broken body unable to be healed. You wrapped your arms around your knees and sob echoed through the broken lobby. Peter grabbed your shoulder.

“Y/N, we gotta get out- We gotta go…”

You were snatched up by Peter, and dragged away from May. It was easy to forget how strong Peter was, until he was picking up and dragging you towards an escape from the police after him.

“I’m taking you home.” Peter flung a web off the building and launched the both of you away from the trouble, “You’ve been through enough.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. You only told him where to take you, and it was silent until you reached your house.

He dropped you off and you mumbled an apology. Peter hugged you and you gave him an awkward pat on the back, “Thank you,” Peter pulled away, “For trying. I’m so sorry.”

You nodded and let Peter leave. You were finally dry eyed. You walked towards your home and noticed the welcome mat was displaced, along with the potted plant beside your door. You immediately put your guard up and opened the door, ready to mind fuck anyone in your home. Even if it killed you.

Tears filled your eyes once the door was opened.

“Otto?”

Immediately, you were on your knees. Sobbing again. His actuators were quick to pick you up, put you on your feet, and pull you into him. The both of you stood there, him letting you cry and you sobbing into his chest.

[vermillionflames]

Wedding Night

Gaara x Female Y/N

Word Count: 2,244

Warnings: arranged marriage, virgin sex, oral sex, unedited smut

I was nervous. My heart had been racing all day thanks to my wedding day anxiety, and the unsolicited advice from literally every single woman attending did not help. Neither did my father’s look of sympathy as he gave me away. My heart, having beat so fast it ran out of fuel, had dropped to the pit of my stomach the second we got into the carriage to take us to our home. This was the first time I was truly alone with my now husband, and it was dead silent. I was convinced he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, bored out of his mind, while my mind was reeling with all the scenarios that could happen.

The Kazekage was many things, but not a charmer. That much I was certain.

The carriage stopped and a guard opened the door. Not acknowledging me, again, Gaara got out first. A second guard presented his hand to help me exit as he continued towards the door. Lovely.

The house was massive, and right in the middle of the village. My face became hot realizing how easy everyone had access to it. Not only did it seem unsafe, the lack of privacy was a waving red flag.

Then I noticed his siblings standing in the door frame. We would have witnesses to our consummation.

I tried not to dwell as I followed Gaara inside.

His siblings vanished from the porch and then the door shut with the wind.

“We have the place to ourselves tonight,” he spoke in a low, monotone voice, “They reside here as well and will be back tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully they don’t bother you the same way they bother me.”

“Was that… a joke,” I tried to crack a smile but I was so anxious it didn’t translate through my face.

For the first time all day he really looked at me. The silence was heavy. My shoulders slouched and my face dropped after a few moments, he was disappointed with his bride.

“Come,” he turned around and started up the flight of stairs, “I’ll show you to our room.”

Not having separate rooms detracted half the advice I had been given early, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with being alone when I went to sleep my first nights in a new home.

Gaara opened a door on the second floor and led me inside. The room was nothing special. A king size bed in the middle of the left wall, wearing deep blue sheets. Across were two armoire closets, made of cherrywood, and a door that seemingly led to a bathroom. It was bare, unlived in.

I turned to look at him by my side.

“I don’t have much skill when it comes to decoration,” Gaara said, meeting my eyes, “You can change everything to suit your liking.”

“O-okay,” I answered.

We stood there in silence, staring at each other, yet again.

My face got red as I realized it was about to happen.

“Um,” I stuttered, “Shouldn’t the sheets be white,” I looked down at my feet, embarrassed.

“If you want white sheets we can have them delivered in the morning,” he replied.

My brows furrowed in confusion, “I mean, like, for the blood.”

“What blood,” he asked, stepping closer he grabbed my hand and lifted my arm, “Are you injured?”

“No,” my heart shot up from my gut to my throat, “For the consummation,” I spoke too loudly for my liking. He placed my arm back down at my side.

“You are…,” he looked at me, “A virgin?”

I wanted to crawl into myself and die.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“That is good to know,” he walked towards the bathroom door, “I was hoping we could wait. I know everyone wants you swollen with my child by tomorrow, but,” he opened the door, “I think it best we get to know each other a little more. Your clothes should have been put in the closet on the right, I’ll be in here until you're changed into your pajamas.”

I was relieved at his idea to wait, though part of me just wanted to rip it off like a bandage. Then I got sick again knowing that I have never owned pajamas in my life… and that I sleep naked. I stalked to the closet, hoping there would be something that resembled sleepwear or that my mother had packed my belongings and threw me a bone. Inside all I found were tiny lace pieces and short satin dresses. Obviously, my ninja gear had been omitted from the move since I was no longer allowed to be in active duty, but nothing besides lingerie was inside the closet.

I threw open the single drawer at the bottom, praying for a miracle. It too had nothing but sexy underwear, and I wanted to faint when I saw leather straps. Who did this?! My shock made me lose my grip on the drawer and it fell onto the ground with a loud crash.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I answered too quickly and too loud.

What was I going to do? I couldn’t sleep in my wedding robe. I looked at all the dresses, concluding they revealed too much for a sexless night.

“There’s, um, there’s no pajamas in my closet,” I called to him. The door unlatched and opened as Gaara walked to me.

“I’m sure they just hid it from yo…” he trailed off taking in the mess on the floor, “There has to be something here.”

Gaara picked up a black strap off the floor, “What even is this,” he asked, tossing it aside. “Is this supposed to make me horny,” he picked up a tiny, lace thong, “My sister must have gotten your size wrong.”

I spit out an embarrassed laugh.

Eyes narrowed, he shuffled through the mess on the floor. “Why is there nothing but underwear in this whole closet?!”

“Can I just wear something of yours,” I asked.

His face softened, “Of course. What’s mine, is yours.”

His closet was full of clothes and pajamas, so I had plenty of options. He handed me a large black t-shirt and red drawstring pants. I nodded in thanks.

Gaara went back to the bathroom while I changed. I threw the shirt over my bare chest, swimming in its size. Then began the mental debate of panties. The ones I had worn with my wedding robes had meant to suck me in and were too tight for sleep, so I removed them. I picked up the pait Gaara had thrown aside earlier and put them on, not wanting to be bare underneath his pants. His pajamas were too big for me, but they were comfortable and warm.

“I’m done,” I called as I climbed into the bed. Gaara emerged from the bathroom, having also changed into pajamas, which matched mine. He flicked his wrists and the lights went out. I felt him climb into the bed next to me and settle. The quiet lulled me to sleep, where I dreamt of my husband touching my body.

Something in the night startled me awake. I ripped my eyes open, seeing the bare wall. In my sleep I had turned onto my side, my back facing Gaara… only... He had also turned onto his side and had his arms wrapped around me. His hand had wandered up my shirt and was now resting under my breast.

I squirmed to try and move myself, but he only tightened his hold around me. Panicking, I grabbed his arm and pulled it down, forgetting how strong I was. His shoulder popped and I felt him wake up. His hand remained too close to my boob, which he noticed. He flipped himself over mumbling an apology.

“Wait, Gaara,” I turned, poking his shoulder.

“Hmmm,” he grumbled, half asleep.

“I want to,” I blurted out. I blushed at my confession, but honesty was the best policy.

“Want to what,” he asked, turning onto his back.

“I want to consummate our marriage,” I whispered, regretting how I worded it.

Silence was my answer.

“Um, nevermind,” I moved to lay back down but Gaara sat up and grabbed my face, bringing me in for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm, the kiss was nothing like the one we shared during our ceremony. My body tingled in response. I whimpered when he pulled away, wanting more.

“Are you sure,” he asked, holding my face in his hand.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised before kissing me again. His tongue licked my lips asking for entry. I parted, not really knowing what to do. I just knew I wanted him as close to me as possible.

Gaara laid me onto my back, continuing the kiss. He paused to look at me, I fidgeted under his eye. He smiled, genuinely smiled at me, before continuing the kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, a feeling I won’t soon forget, before trailing kisses down my jaw and neck. His fingers played with the hem of my shirt, his shirt. Tickling my stomach and hips before pushing the fabric upwards.

“I want to keep it on,” I gasped, not ready to be fully naked in front of him, despite the lack of light.

“Okay, Y/N, but anything you keep on, I get to keep on and we can’t make love unless we take off our pants.”

His choice of words shocked me. Make love? We hardly knew each other. Still, I nodded in agreement.

His hands moved to the waistband of the pants I was wearing and slowly pulled them down. He cocked his head to the side, recognizing the thong from earlier.

“I guess Temari did get your size right,” he winked.

I took a deep breath as his fingers looped around that waistband and pulled down. The most private part of me was now bare to him.

“If you want to stop at any point, please tell me. You can shove me to the floor if you want,” he waited for me to acknowledge him before continuing. I didn’t trust my voice so I nodded.

One second he was staring at me, the next his head had fallen to my core. I soon realized what he was doing. His tongue licked up my folds, making my yelp. I had touched myself before, but my fingers never felt like this. I felt him smile with pride as his licks made me squirm and gasp. I kept my hands at my side, gripping the sheets. The pleasure increased when Gaara wrapped his mouth around my clit and lightly sucked, continuing the tongue laps. The bed beneath was soaked from how wet I was.

On instinct, my hands went to his hair and pulled him closer to me as I begged for more. My embarrassment and anxiety from earlier had vanished due to my lack of need for his touch. I didn’t want him to stop, and I told him that too.

I felt one of his fingers enter me, making my volume increase. He pumped his finger before releasing my clit from his mouth.

He looked up at me from his position at my hips, our eyes met and my body came undone.

“Do you still want to,” he stood at the side of the bed when my orgasm stopped rippling through me.

“Yes,” my voice was so heavy with desire I didn’t recognize it.

“Shirts still on?”

I blushed but nodded.

“Okay,” I watched Gaara remove his pants, revealing a long, hard cock. My body hummed in excitement as he climbed back on top of me.

“Y/N,” Gaara grabbed my face with one had, forcing my concentration on his eyes and not his member, “Remember what I said about stopping me?”

“Yes,” I answered too quickly.

He smiled, “Good, now look at me.”

I kept eye contact as he entered me. My face slowly shifted into one of discomfort as more went inside. It wasn’t painful like I had been warned, but it was a new sensation that was extremely uncomfortable.

Gaara groaned when he was fully sheathed. He didn’t move his hips, opting to kiss my cheeks while I got used to his size.

“Please,” I finally asked, “Give me everything.”

Gaara growled in approval before moving his hips backward, slowly he thrust in and out of me. I moaned, moving my hands to grab his back and hold him to me. He took my expression and noises as cues. Once I had gotten louder, and wetter, and quickened his pace, causing me to scratch down his back.

“More,” I begged, and he laughed.

“Tonight, this is as much as you get. I don’t want you to be too sore,” he angled himself to hit a particularly pleasurable spot and I cried out.

We were both sweating, moaning messes when I felt my orgasm approach. Gaara must have felt it too because he quickened his pace enough to meet me. We came together, which is something the old hags told me would not happen. Gaara laid on top of me for some time before flopping over.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Yes,” I was still catching my breath, “That was so much better than what I was told would happen.”

“Oh?” Gaara sat up, massaging circles into my tummy, “Just wait until we become more accustomed to each other’s bodies.”

[moonbeamwritings]

could you maybe make a part 2 for your dio modern au fanfic? maybe a few months or something in the future just to see how it’s going?

of course, anon! (fic that anon is talking about is here) <3

modern au dio - part 2

It was all so surreal, you realized as you made your way to Dio’s apartment for dinner one evening after work. He’d entered your life so suddenly, sauntering into your workplace and turning your whole life upside down, exposing you to a side of the famous Dio Brando that you hadn’t even known existed.

Your chest tightened as you thought back on the first time you’d come over after the kiss you’d shared, watching with unabashed affection as the man bounced his young son on his hip, shooting you a gentle, knowing smile when he’d caught you staring.

The soft ding of the elevator pulled you from your thoughts, sending your feet along the all too familiar path leading to his door. You’d done this nearly a thousand times, a practiced trip down each hallway and around every corner. You were sure you could do it in your sleep.

With a few firm knocks against the door and a muffled “It’s open!”, you made your way inside, immediately greeted by Giorno who wrapped his tiny arms around your legs.

Without a second thought, you hunched over to tug the boy up into your arms, pressing kisses against his chubby little cheeks. You grinned as he let out squeals of delight, arms winding their way around your neck like vines.

“It’s about time,” Dio admonished playfully, shooting you a smile as you set Giorno back down on the floor, watching as he raced off to continue playing. The moment you entered the kitchen, he stepped away from the stove to pull you in for a chaste kiss, lips lingering against yours before finally returning to his cooking.

You hovered over his shoulder to sneak a peek at the pan in front of him. He was making your favorite.

Smiling to yourself at the simple domesticity of it all, you leaned over to land a soft kiss against his cheek before making your way into the living room to play with Giorno.

“How was work?” Dio asked, wiping his hands on a towel as he placed his elbows on the counter, watching as you moved one of Giorno’s toy frogs along the floor.

“You know how it is,” you replied, looking up from the little amphibian and over at Dio, “Customers are always awful, upper management stinks, I’m constantly getting stuck with late shifts. Same old, same old.”

The tone of your voice sent a pang of sadness through Dio’s chest. He knew, without any hesitation, that you deserved better. He watched your gaze shift away from his again, completely missing the serious look that crossed his face. Dio loved you and could more than easily take care of you with the money his career allowed - and his bed was far too big for just himself anyway. It was simple, really.

As casually as he could, he offered up the only answer he could think of. “You could quit.”

In shock, your head shot up. “Huh? Dio, you know I can’t do that.”

“I think you could.” He shrugged, turning back to the stove to stir the contents of the pan, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. Why was this so scary? He was Dio Brando of all people - a charmer, a world class attorney. This should be easy.

“You could quit and let me take care of you until you find something worth your time. Move in and everything.” He waved a hand around to downplay the weight of his offer, and maybe to distract himself from the heat rising in his face, but who was keeping track?

Across the room, your heart had become equally as frantic, stilling your movements entirely. He wasn’t serious, was he? You loved him, and Giorno for that matter, and the offer was rather tempting - you’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of it before, but was it too good to be true?

“Are you serious?” The question slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, marked with a hint of incredulity as you placed the toy in your grip back in its place amongst the others before moving to stand back over by the counter.

At the sound of your feet, Dio turned back to look at you. “Of course I am.”

The apartment went quiet, save for the sizzle of dinner and little mumbles from Giorno as he continued to play, completely unaware of the serious conversation happening mere feet away.

Your mind reeled with a list of pros and cons. You loved him, he could take care of you, he had left you room to get another job if you wanted one, you could spend more time together. 

Were there any cons?

No, you decided after another moment of thought, there really weren’t.

“Okay.” You spoke, finally breaking the silence.

Dio replied in an instant, his usual confidence replaced by uncharacteristic hesitation as his eyes softened when they locked on yours. “Really?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you nodded, “I’d love to.”

In the entire time you’d known Dio, you swore you’d never seen such a bright, genuine grin. You’d never seen him so happy.

Rounding the counter, he took your face in his hands and landed a sweet, eager kiss against your lips, pressing his smile right up against your own. Warmth invaded your chest as he pulled away to bump his nose against yours. “I knew you’d say yes.” He spoke, breaking the silence with a cocky grin.

Rolling your eyes, you pulled him in for another quick peck, if only to shut him up for just a moment longer. Pulling away the second time, his smile only seemed to grow.

You’d definitely made the right decision.

[spacexcowgirl]

Lightning In A Bottle - G.W.

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: There’s no one who makes George feel quite as alive as Y/N. But will making a move ruin everything?

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Slight drug/high mention (blink and you'll miss it), alcohol insinuation, kissing, George being head over heels in love with Y/N, I don’t think there’s anything else but let me know?

A/N: for the anon who requested a George x Reader based on the song “Electric Love” ! I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with this originally, but I decided to be lightly inspired by the tiktok trend with this song (where best friends kiss at the peak of the song). Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

If you were to ask George Weasley what he was thinking about at any given time, his answer may vary, but always stay within a similar realm. Maybe he’d say pranks, or quidditch, or missing his mum. No response would be particularly groundbreaking, and you’d probably move on to his twin brother to receive a more outlandish and off-the-wall answer. What you wouldn’t know, though, is that whatever George chose to reply with, was most likely a lie.

You see, George did think about all of things listed, but there was something else that plagued his thoughts far more often than he’d ever like to admit. Y/N Y/L/N.

The two of them had been best friends for years now, having met during their first year at Hogwarts. Y/N had this presence that even at the age of 11 had pulled him in. His worst days could be brightened by her smile alone, his best days made impossibly better when she appeared at his side. She was like the strike of lightning shocking a darkened night sky to life, the sugar rush that surged energy throughout your body. She was a drug that brought George to his highest highs, and he would be remiss to let her slip through his fingers.

If it wasn’t clear, George was smitten with the girl. It had now been nearly half a decade that he had harbored feelings for her, and he had never acted on them. He was terrified of being rejected or messing up their friendship entirely. Some part of him was addicted to the rush her presence brought, the way she lit up every room and nearly set him, body and soul, ablaze. He couldn’t risk losing that over his silly feelings.

So, now he sat at a Gryffindor party, where he should be celebrating after a victory over Slytherin. But, he just didn’t have the heart for it. Not while he watched her speak animatedly to Roger Davies, a beautiful smile lighting up her entire face. Even from his place across the room, George could see that Davies was contributing very little to the conversation, but rather seemed just as enamored by her as everyone else.

“Keep staring, why don’t you?” A voice startled George slightly, causing him to gulp before realizing that it was only Fred. “Not like that’s creepy at all.”

“Oh shut it,” George grumbled in response, although he couldn’t help a slight blush from rising to his cheeks. He hated being caught looking like a lovesick puppy.

“Seriously, mate, when are you just going to man up and ask her out?” Fred took a sip from his cup, and George didn’t miss his slight grimace as the liquid burned his throat.

“We’re not talking about this.” George groaned. 

Obviously, he was closer with Fred than anyone else in his life, but Fred just didn’t get it. He hadn’t met a girl that got his heart racing the way Y/N made George’s heart race. So, any girl that Fred was casually interested in, he went for. And it always worked out. George could take a shot at flirting with random girls that he thought were fit, because they didn’t really matter. But the idea of making a fool of himself in front of Y/N, the possibility of ruining things, it made him feel ill.

Fred looked as though he was going to press his brother further, but was cut off by the music stopping abruptly and a sharp whistle garnering his attention. In the center of the common room, Angelina Johnson stood atop a table, her hands cupping around her mouth as she made an announcement.

“Oi, we’re going to be starting a round of truth or dare, if you wanna join come over.” 

Fred glanced over at his brother, a devilish glint sparkling in his eyes before they both wordlessly communicated that they would be playing. They wandered to the center of the room with a few others, Fred immediately jumping over the back of the couch with ease. George took a place on the floor instead, figuring someone else would want to sit on the couch more. He couldn’t help but grin widely when Y/N took a few steps, then plopped down on the plush carpet beside him.

“I‘ve hardly seen you all night, hot shot,” Y/N bumped her shoulder into his, a teasing smile on her lips. “What, you hit the most bludgers in a game and suddenly you’re too cool for your best friend?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” George teased back, chuckling heartily when she gasped and lightly swatted at his arm. “I’m only kidding! Godric, woman, excuse me for wanting to give you your alone time with Davies.” He had intended for his words to come of jokingly, but he heard the way he sneered out the other boy’s name, and he couldn’t help but cringe.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, as if she truly had no idea what he was on about, but before the conversation could progress any further, Angelina was clearing her throat and garnering all those who gathered’s attention. She explained that if anyone refused to answer the truth or do the dare they were given, they’d have to take a shot to make up for it. Hums in agreement sounded around the circle, then it finally got started.

George could feel nerves bubbling in his stomach, because it seemed no one was holding back that night. Of course, he was always up for a challenge and very little scared him, but Fred was playing too. And every time he’d catch his brother’s eye, and Fred would shoot him that smirk, George knew he was planning something. 

It was Neville who was the one to ask Fred ‘truth or dare?’ And George’s stomach immediately dropped. That meant Fred would be going next, and he was certain he’d be choosing him. After Fred finished his one-minute long hand stand, per Neville’s very PG dare, the older twin immediately set his gaze on his brother like a predator locking in on its prey. George gulped, causing Y/N to side-eye him warily.

“Georgie,” Fred cooed innocently. “Truth or dare?”

George pondered his options for a moment. If he picked truth, there was a chance Fred would ask something that would force him to admit his feelings for Y/N. Of course, he could always refuse and take a shot, but that would look awfully suspicious, wouldn’t it? Then again, he didn’t even want to imagine what Fred would come up with for a dare. Biting down anxiously on his bottom lip, George pleaded with his brother wordlessly.

“Come on Georgie, we don’t have all night.” Fred exhaled.

“Dare.” George settled on, not granting himself another moment to ponder which was the right choice. As the corners of Fred’s lips curled upward, making him looking strikingly like the Chesire Cat, George was certain he made the wrong decision.

“Alrighty then,” Fred leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

“You creep!” Y/N laughed out, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Why would you want to watch your brother kiss me?”

George was certain his face couldn’t get any redder, but his expression was contorted into one of anger. Fred had never understood limits, he always took everything a step too far, and usually George was the one to reel things back in. Fred’s expression seemed to soften at the sight of George’s genuine frustration, but it offered little reprieve to the situation.

“Or, he can take a shot. No big deal.” Fred scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, doing his best to fix the situation he created. Everyone else seemed eerily silent as their gazes shifted between George and Y/N.

“Yeah, I’ll just take a shot.” George sighed.

“Why?” Y/N spoke, a little too quickly. If George didn’t know any better, he’d think she almost looked embarrassed.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable…” George trailed off sheepishly.

“Right, right,” Y/N nodded in understanding, but George could sense the change in her usual demeanor instantly. “That would be so weird, especially in front of everyone.”

“You guys could go into one of the dorms for privacy?” Angelina suggested, causing both George and Y/N to shoot her a glare. 

George was prepared to come up with another excuse, to just take the shot and move on, but then Y/N sighed and glanced over at him, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth. It was like the small action put him under a spell, and suddenly his mind was entirely blank. With a shaky exhale, he nodded, then stood and offered Y/N his hand to help her up.

There was a few shouts and hollers as the two exited the group, and George was certain he distinctly heard Lee shout ‘I expect Georgie to be wearing your lipstick when you two get back!’ But he could hardly focus on anything but the feeling of Y/N’s hand in his own. The people who weren’t playing the game sloppily danced and moved around, and George was careful to weave the two of them through the crowd as he guided her towards his dorm.

It was like a sort of electricity was surging between them, flowing back and forth between the spot of their interconnected hands. He found himself wondering if she could feel it too, hoping desperately that it wasn’t all in his head. 

As they ascended the stairs, the music from the party became more and more distant. Still, even when they made it to his dorm and shut the door, they could lightly hear the muffled melody from below. George dropped her hand and looked around desperately, a quiet swear leaving his lips as he took in the disastrous state of his room. Of course, he hadn’t anticipated that the girl he was practically in love with would be in his dorm, so he hadn’t had the good sense to pick up.

“So…” Y/N trailed off, seemingly unfazed by the state of his dorm. 

“So.” George repeated, scratching at the back of his neck.

Y/N breathed out a sigh before stepping further into his room and making her way towards his bed. She patted the spot next to her, signaling for him to join her. George was quick to oblige, of course.

Y/N’s eyes seemed to trace every inch of George’s face, her gaze soft. She was usually so energetic and lively, and George adored that side of her, but this newfound quiet demeanor had him weak in the knees. Godric, he longed to know every one of her sides, to memorize every quirk and edge of hers. After her eyes had exhausted the expanse of his freckled skin, they finally landed on his lips, before returning to his deep brown eyes. Then, slowly, she began to inch just a bit closer, her eyes fluttering shut.

George wanted this, so desperately. He wanted nothing more than to cup her face and kiss her senseless and fill her with that same electricity she constantly filled him with. But there was a small voice in his head that was telling him she would never feel the same way as him, and this was a recipe for heartbreak, and the moment their lips met, everything would be ruined. So, he pulled back abruptly and cleared his throat.

“We don’t have to do this.” George spoke hoarsely. “They’ll never know if we don’t.”

Y/N’s eyes remained shut, squeezing just a bit tighter as she let out what sounded like a disappointed huff. George could read the embarrassment on her face when she finally opened her eyes but couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, her eyes remained trained on her lap.

“Is the idea of kissing me really that awful?” Y/N’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” George sputtered, certain he must have misheard her. “No! No, that’s not what I mean—”

“What else could you mean?” Y/N’s voice raised, her usual fire seeming to awaken. “Godric, every chance you’ve tried to get out of it. Do you know how embarrassing that is, Weasley? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

George sat stunned, his mouth hanging slightly agape as she continued on her rant. She was now on her feet, angrily wringing her wrists. Her nose scrunched up in that little way it always did when she was frustrated, and even though it was clear she was not happy with George, he couldn’t help but be endeared by her even then.

“Obviously, you can do whatever you want. I’m not saying you have to kiss me.” She continued, pausing her pacing for a second. “But… We’re best friends, yeah? Am I really so bad you can’t stomach even a peck? What does that say about me, George?”

She allowed herself to glance at him for one moment, waiting to see if he’d grant her any answers, before scoffing and turning away. She was about halfway to the door when George’s senses seemed to come back to life and he forced himself to his feet to stop her. His hand gently encircled her wrist and she was quick to whirl around and look at him in confusion.

Perhaps it was the fact that George had dreamed about this moment for so long, but there were a number of things that stood out to him about it. For one, the sound of his pounding heart beat mixed with the music below, both gradually building up to a crescendo. And he knew, that was the moment. 

Their lips collided right when the mixed sounds of the music and his beating heart seemed to hit their peak. It was as if everything in the universe had been building up to this moment, or at the very least everything in George’s universe had. His lips seemed to tingle where they connected, this mutual energy rushing between both of their bodies. Y/N arched against him, thankful when his arms found her waist and kept her from tumbling over. The passion he portrayed in the kiss made her knees feel weak, and all at once she felt both entirely useless and completely alive.

If George thought that just being in her presence had an effect on him, that was nothing compared to having her lips on his. The feeling of her body curved against his was certainly something he could get used to, and he was certain it would kill him to never experience it again.

Y/N was the first to pull back, slowly, and draw in a deep breath. George found that he couldn’t help himself, though, and chased her lips for another, shorter kiss.

When they finally pulled apart for real, they both gazed at one another with the same question in mind; what did this mean? Before George could speak up and ask, he got distracted by her once again biting down on her lip. He did his best to hold in his groan, knowing damn well she would be the death of him.

“Do you feel that, too?” Y/N spoke, her eyes searching between his. 

Y/N didn’t have to explain what she meant, because George knew, and he did feel it. Instead of answering her, he removed one of his hands from her waist and took her hand gently in his own. He placed her palm over his heart, covering it with his own, and let her feel the rhythmic and steady pounding against his chest. Once he was sure she understood, he brought her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss against her knuckles.

“I only didn’t want to kiss you because… I knew I could handle never kissing you, never knowing. But to kiss you once then never again?” His voice was quiet, although he hoped it was reassuring. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do it.”

“George Weasley,” A smile grew on Y/N’s lips, the one he knew so well, the one that sent a shiver down his spine. “As long as you promise to always kiss me like that, I’ll never ask you to stop.”

With that, Y/N used the hand that remained around his neck to pull him down once more, grinning as their lips moved together. He flipped their position around and slowly began to walk her backwards to his bed, only pausing when she pulled back.

“You know, I think we’re gonna have to thank Fred after this.” Y/N teased, eliciting a groan to tear from George’s lips as he tilted his head back.

“Please, love, can we not talk about my git brother right now?”

Y/N’s giggles filled his ears like the sweetest melody, and he was certain that even a siren luring him to his death could succeed if they sounded as beautiful as her. 

Y/N made him feel alive in the way she shot him little smiles at breakfast, or how she’d slide her notes to him when she knew he wasn’t paying attention, or how her voice would carry the loudest as she cheered him on during Quidditch. Now, he knew she also made him feel alive from the feeling of her soft lips against his, from the way her body arched into his touch, and how even in a moment like this, she’d find a way to joke. As he gently pushed her back onto his bed, he realized he couldn’t let her go now that he had her.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair​ @letsgotothehop​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @mischiefisbeingmanaged​ @gcdric​ @lovefromrosie​ @thisismysketchbook​ @george-fabian-weasley​ @evermoreweasley​ @lunalovecroft​ @leovaldez37​

[softcallofdutyimagines]

Stay | Russell Adler x fem!bell!Reader

Summary: Despite having developed deep feelings for you after all this time working together, Adler takes you to antarctica like he was told. The only issue is... Things aren't as they seem when he finally confronts you.

Aka, sorry Treyarch, but this time the thotlers win.

SKSKSKS I ONLY MADE THAT POST TO TEST THE WATER, SO THANK YOU @smokeywhalee FOR ASKING FOR THE FIC. I ACTUALLY WROTE THIS WHOLE ASS THING LAST NIGHT SO COME GET THIS FLUFFY ASS BREAD Y'ALL AND ENJOY

Tags: fluff, angst, and angst with a happy ending

Warnings: some strong language and you might need a tissue box bc I sure did 😭😭

"Nothing like arctic air, eh?"

Russell Alder stands just a few feet away, hands resting squarely on his hips, looking out over the cliffs.

"Sure", you smile tiredly, a little sleepy from the long flight, as you walk up beside him. Without needing permission, you slip your pinky around his as he loosens his grip to allow you to do so.

Adler takes a glance down at your intertwined hands. He can't keep you in the dark for long. But still, he's afraid to tell you...

You move to lean your head on his shoulder, only to be left alone as he wrenches himself away.

"Listen Bell, there's... There's something I need to tell you", he refuses himself a glance at you. It would hurt him too much. You make an inquisitive noise and a long silence passes.

Perhaps it would be best just to get the hard part over. He was never one for beating around the bush anyway. "They sent me out here to kill you, Bell"

His voice is hardly audible, a clever trick to disguise the hurt in his voice. He grits his teeth, wondering if you really needed to know that, but then he remembers... He's done lying to you. You deserve to know.

Adler braces himself for the backlash, perhaps even a bullet in the back. Instead, he's met with a whisper.

"I know"

Your voice is only audible thanks to the bitter wind helping it along to his ear, leaving a ghostly caress as it passes him by. Russell turns around this time, almost disappointed to see your back still turned to him.

"How d-?"

You turn slowly, and even from there he can see the tear rolling down your face, "Why else would we be out here?", you gesture around to the great nothingness enveloping you both. You sniff and swipe a hand across you cheek, a joyless laugh escaping you, "Besides, you never take me anywhere nice"

In any other scenario, it would be playful and teasing, just like he knows you for.

Adler huffs a half hearted laugh at that, before tearing his gaze away. "Bell, I..."

"Oh, cut the shit Russell. Just do it, alright?", the tears flow freely down your glassy eyes now, "I know you have to... Really, I get it. A-and it's alright, you know? I-"

By now, Adler has made his way across to you. Even now, he hates to see you so upset. He gently grips your arms in his strong, steady hands, hoping against hope to give you some sense of ease. He needs to finish what he has to say.

"Bell..."

He then tries to say your name, but you won't allow it.

"Just shut up, alright? God, I hate you! I h-hate you..."

You struggle in his grip, beating weakly against his chest as your body becomes wracked pwith sobs, voice trailing off pathetically. Adler pulls you close, just in time, as you collapse into his arms.

"God, why? Why why...?"

You're choked up with hiccuping sobs again as Adler lowers you both to kneel in the grass. He squeezes you tighter, comfortingly he hopes, and if nothing else, to keep him from allowing tears of his own to fall too.

With a ragged gasp, you find your voice, allowing your anger and frustration to seap in at last, "After all I did for you people... This is how yo-?"

But you're cut off, and suddenly all your senses are overwhelmed with... Him.

Adlers lips crush into yours, the eagerness with which he kisses you is enough to erase all the fear, and pain, and sadness. At least, for the moment.

The crisp arctic air only accentuates the musky smell of his cologne, infusing every breath you breathe with its familiar scent. Charred birch and a hint of cigarettes. You almost smile at that.

He's been trying to quit, per your request, but... Old habits die hard.

The uneven stubble of his scarred chin tickles as he works over your lips, sucking gently, but adamantly once, then twice, before sustaining one long kiss again.

At last you part, lungs burning for air. Small puffs of condensation intermingle between your mouths as you catch your breath.

Adler takes one last gasp for air, to steady himself more then anything, before delivering one more kiss to your forehead. He knows he doesn't deserve to think such things, but...

You have no idea how long he's wanted to kiss you.

A few more tears start up from you again, but in that moment, he decides once and for all to commit to all the promises he's been wanting to make to you. He's done watching you suffer, and it's time you knew.

"I'm not going to kill you Bell...", he whispers against the warm skin of your forehead before pulling you to the crook of his neck.

You sniff, instantly frozen as you try to make sense of what you just heard. Too soon, faster then your mind can catch up, you search for words, "Wha-? Why? How? Russell, if they find out they'll kill yo-"

"Shhhh, they're not going to find out. I'm defecting. Right here, right now"

"B-but, why? I already told you, it's o-"

Adler moves his hands to cup your face, training your gaze to be all on him.

"No, it's not ok Bell. What we did to you... What I did to you... Was fucked, and unfair, but... it was for the greater good. But this? No."

"W-well ok... but-?"

"I'm doing this because I love you Bell", he barks it out, almost angrily, but even behind those old tinted aviators, you can see his expression soften almost immediately as he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb, "I love you... So much. Do you understand?"

He pauses for a moment, and his grand show of steely emotions breaks as he removes the sunglasses to wipe away his tears. And when he looks back at you... You're surprised at the reminder of how beautiful his eyes are.

"And... I'm... sorry I never told you before... Well, this"

Your mind is reeling at the rush of information. This... confession, isn't exactly news to you, but to hear him say it...

With one more sniff, Adler manages to pull himself together for a final moment of vulnerability, "Look, I know this is... a lot, but I was thinki- I...", he sighs and takes a deep breath. This is it.

"Would you... Come away with me? The CIA is going to be looking for both of us, and, well... No body and all, so I was thinking... We could find somewhere... off the grid, just you and me, start fresh? I know it'll be tough bu-"

"Yes!"

"-t I can protect you an- Wait... Yes?"

"Yes!", you seal the statement with a quick kiss. A promise. Then, you grow serious, "There's nothing left for me out here Russell... You're my only choice"

"...I'm sorry to hear that"

You cup a hand to his face, a tiny glimpse of that beautiful smile he loves so much peeking through, "No no, I didn't mean... This is a good thing. I meant to say, I wouldn't want to choose anyone else"

Adler sniffs and huffs a laugh, rocking gently as you pull in for an embrace, "Well in that case... I'm sorry to hear you have such terrible taste in men"

That earns a genuine laugh from you, and to him, it sounds like music.

You slip your hand into his, holding on just by the fingers before reaching up to plant a kiss over the scar on his jaw. You always rather liked those scars of his, no matter how much he wishes they never were.

But then again... He loves the way you use them to make him feel handsome, and he'll never understand how you do it.

After a few moments more, Adler gets up, pulling you to your feet as well. You wipe away the last of your tears, and as you glance up at him, a look of uncertainty crosses you.

He knows he has no right to ask you to trust him. Not after all the lies and the manipulation that got you and him to this point. But even after all that... The fact that you're willing to give him a chance humbles him to no end.

Adler looks back at you, and wishes for nothing more then the ability to make sure you never have to worry, or hurt, or live in fear ever again. But if there's one thing he does know, he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

"Come on kid", he rubs some warmth back into your arms, then kisses the top of your hair, "let's get out of here, huh? I've got just the place in mind..."

And just the place indeed.

A few months of preparation go by first, but at last you've managed to escape to the Swiss country side. Fields and fields of vibrant green grass and small wildflowers pass you by as Adler drives along, the great alps standing tall and strong just in the distance.

The sun glows warmly over head, and a little sparkle catches your eye. You look down and admire the ring on your hand once again, turning it this way and that, before stealing a glance at Russell's matching one.

With a couple more twists and turns, Adler asks you to close your eyes. A little while more, and the car comes to a stop. "Hey, don't open yet!", He hurries around to help you out, guiding you along want feels like a gravel path.

He puts his hands over yours, "Ready?"

You nod, the suspense absolutely eating you up. Finally, he moves your hands aside, revealing a small, brightly painted house before you. A stone path leads up to a white fenced porch complete with a swing for two.

The whole thing is practically overgrown with wysteria, coiling in and around the pillars and walls, and out front a wild garden stretches up towards the sun.

It's perfect.

You whip around, finding yourself unable to speak. But, he already knows. Adler sweeps you up off your feet and gives you a little spin as you shriek in surprise, melting into a fit of laughter as he sets you down.

He leans in and kisses you, just another of countless more to come, before pulling back. You have no idea how much it means to him to see you this happy....

"Welcome home"

[kikilefangirl]

Worthy of Admiration

Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Word Count: 1644)

As you pulled up to your apartment complex, nothing was seemingly out of place.

Miss Marcia sat next to her open window watching the neighborhood kids run through the grass. Suge and his boys from down the way whistled as you walked past. The usual.

But as soon as you made it up the steps, you paused. Something didn’t feel right. You were suddenly more aware of the knife burning a hole in your pocket.

“Monty!” You called out and he came almost immediately.

“Take these to your Mama, tell her it was no problem.” You said. You didn’t hear his reply.

You hand him your grocery bags, never taking your eyes off of your apartment door further down the hall. You take light, cautious steps. Turning your key with one hand, you rest the other on your knife.

As soon as the door clicked, a metal hand reached for your throat. You sidestepped, feeling the air whizz past you. You lunged at your attacker, but he was fast. His flesh arm reeled back, landing a harsh blow to your side. You slashed his forearm before he could get to you fully.

It caught him off guard long enough for you to kick him in the ribs. It gave you just enough time to retreat to your kitchen. A collection of knives and guns awaited you.

You were prepared for a moment like this.

You focused your energy, calling out all the weapons in your possession. A dagger whistled towards you and you caught it in mid-air. A dagger to go with your knife. The metal man was on you, his gun in hand.

You threw the dagger, digging it in his shoulder. As soon as you let it fly, you focused on his gun, you could feel its mechanics and jammed it from where you were.

Your knife clattered to the ground in the process, though. Hand to hand then. A block. Metal hand incoming. Dodge. Dishes and plates rocked and clashed all around you.

You matched his pace blow for blow. Learned his movements. He favored no arm or leg, not even the metal one. Military grade equipment. Very well trained.

You noticed the details. You were holding your own against the stronger, faster, bigger man solely because of the details of his weaponry. That was your mutation. Weapons. The strategy was purely years of training.

Then you slipped up. The sound of children laughing and running up and down the hall took you by surprise.

No, don’t come up here, you wanted to scream.

As soon as your attention drifted from him, the man seized the opportunity. He had his hands on your throat. You were slowly sinking and black spots dotted your vision.

Just then, another man busted through the door, and pushed your attacker off of you. The two wrestled on your living room floor, but you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Then everything went black.

                                                        ...

“A fake ID, no prints, and an arsenal of weapons in every room.” Natasha sounded off. She stared at your sleeping form through the observation deck in the Tower’s Med Bay.

Bucky frowned at that. The mystery woman he’d gone after and attacked as the Winter Soldier. The details were fuzzy, but he remembered some parts. From what he gathered, she lived completely off the grid. For good reason if she had Hydra out to get her.

Tony swaggered into the room, and made a beeline for Steve, whose worried gaze alternated between Bucky and the woman. He was used to the stares from everyone; he deserved them.

“Spangles, for some reason Terminator over there-,”Tony gestured to Bucky on the opposite end of the room, “almost you know, to our Jane Doe and here’s the best part, minimal damage.”

His words hung in the air, and Bucky drew his lips in a tight line. He found his own gaze drifting towards her, full of concern. He rubbed his temple.

“What are we looking at, here?” Steve let out at last. Bucky scolded himself for not asking that question himself.

Reality sunk in when no one could answer him.

                                                        ...

“You took a lot of hard hits, yesterday.”

At the sound of the deep voice, your eyes fluttered open against the harsh white light. Hospital. You tried to sit up all the way, but a metal handcuff bit into your wrist. You grimaced and finally looked up and the man.

You tried to scramble backwards at the sight of your attacker, but you were still cuffed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The man backed away and held his hands up.

You made no moves, but watched him carefully. His metal hand was still very much a threat. You ghosted a hand over the bruise it gave you. You took a ragged breath and licked your lips. Chapped. If not for the morphine drip, everything would hurt. Nope. You were in no condition to deal with the outside world. If you left, now, you were as good as dead.

“My name is Bucky. I’m sorry I attacked you,” He started.

It seemed genuine, but as you thought back to Metal Man, you realized who he was and why he was so familiar. The Winter Soldier. Hydra. You tried not to make a face.

“I wasn’t in control of myself. You’re safe, you’re at Avengers’ Tower.” He said frantically.

Holding your body weight up for so long on your own was beginning to take a toll. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You swallowed hard. It hurt the roof of your mouth because it was so dry, like sandpaper.

You spied a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, so you reached for it. You came up short, but luckily enough Bucky picked up on your actions. He handed you the water and helped you get back in the bed.

You guzzled it down as soon as it touched your lips. Not long after did a familiar voice chime in.

“Well shit, I thought I taught you better than this.”

Both your heads snapped up to see none other than Nick Fury at the door. In a flash, a butterfly knife was sailing through the air. You willed it away from Bucky’s head, and chose to lodge it on the handcuffs.

The chain snapped and you sat up. The pain in your ribs flared, but at least you weren’t chained to the bed anymore.

“Wanna trade, old man?” You said, rubbing your wrist.

Fury let out a laugh and squinted with his good eye. You picked up your clothes, and scoured through the bag they were in.

“And you two...know each other?” Bucky jumped in.

“Oakland. I was seven. Mutants don’t get to live squeaky clean, especially young black ones.” You told them.

You soften at the mention of your younger self. How young and vulnerable you were when Fury found you. You’d been on Hydra’s radar ever since, running ever since.

Your grip on your bag of clothes tightened. You’d had a run in with the Winter Soldier before. You got lucky, back then. And again, it seemed. You bit your lip.

To his credit, Bucky noticed your change in mood.

“Stay here.” He suggested. You met his apologetic eyes. He was serious about you staying, and making up for what he did.

“If I wanted to be a part of a group, y’all wouldn’t be my first call, no offense.” You said. Fury scoffed and his good eye narrowed into a slit. He didn’t comment, though.

You were a mutant who wanted to live your life on your terms, not as a spectacle. You let out a sigh.

“When the doctor clears me I’ll be a ghost.” You stated. You were more so talking to Bucky than Fury. He knew full well you weren’t a team player.

“Next time don’t get rusty,” He called out, tossing you a wad of cash. You nodded in thanks, but Fury just waved his hand and walked out. That was just how he was.

It was just you and Bucky, again.

For how massive he was, the man had an innocence about him, it was almost childlike. But there was years worth of weariness, too. And guilt. A product of Hydra, and decades of a corrupted purpose as the Winter Soldier.

You decided Bucky was a weary man who was doing his very best to live in spite of it all.

“Cheer up, comrade,” You told him with a hand on the crook of his neck, “You’ll still have me for a few more days. Until the doc clears me.”

You shot him a dazzling smile and laughed to yourself when he turned a bright pink. He stammered through his reply so much you felt bad, and let him be.

But as he got up to leave, his eyes dulled. He really wanted you to stay and redeem himself for his actions. You couldn’t say it wasn’t admirable.

You twirled the knife in your hands, in one combination after the other. Bucky had blown up your hiding spot. Hydra was without its best asset and would probably be gunning for new ones. People like you.

You clicked your tongue. You could do with a life fully funded by Tony Stark himself, in the most secure building you’d ever been in.

“It’s too hot out there for me, right now. I might need a place to stay until it’s safe to move.” You said.

Bucky nodded and gave you a small smile.

“Can I ask your name, now?” You blinked at the question.

You’d lived so long without anyone, that you hadn’t even considered revealing any true information about yourself. No introductions, no goodbyes. Bucky could probably relate to that.

“Y/N.”

It felt good to say your name out loud. You surveyed the room around you. The faces of the men and women pretending they weren’t watching your exchange with Bucky.

You tilted your head and surveyed your new knife. Your nostrils flared at your collection left behind in your apartment. Oh, you’d be staying alright.

Reeling back you threw the weapon at your observation window. Successfully sticking, the knife was directly in line with Tony Stark’s head, if not for the window.

“Stark! I want my knives back!”

[lostbbygorl]

LOOK WHAT THE RAIN HAS BROUGHT (LEVI X F!READER):

AU: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE BY JANE AUSTEN

~~~~

The dark gray clouds that hung in the sky perfectly described the mood of the young woman who ran as fast as she could, hot tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, and feet aching out of exhaustion. But no matter, she still ran with her burgundy dress so soaked she was positive it even reached her corset. The rainfall grew heavier and heavier by the second.

At last, Y/N reached the pillars in the vast garden that offered her some shelter. Her back hit the walls with an inaudible thud, and she shut her puffy eyes and felt pure misery as well as icy rain.

Her head hurt and her mind raced with depressing thought after depressing thought after depressing thought… and then anger!

Levi Ackerman was behind her dearest sister, Christa’s, unhappiness!

Christa had previously been madly in love with Ackerman’s bestest friend, Erwin. The entire family was expecting a proposal when Erwin explained his departure from Trost in a letter which broke Christa’s heart. Christa was still mourning over the man as he had left so suddenly and with barely any explanation. Seeing Christa so broken had dampened Y/N’s mood as well, and now that she found out that the man she most hated was behind this outrage, she wanted to burn all his miserable property to the ground!

Speak of the devil.

Just as the rainfall had gotten calmer, Y/N noticed a figure dressed in an expensive black suit approach her. Even in the pouring rain Y/N could make out the expressionless, solemn, infuriatingly handsome face of Levi Ackerman: one of the richest but also one of the most arrogant, rude, and unfriendly men to walk on earth.

Levi’s usually neat hair was tousled by the raindrops, and his usually spotless attire was spoiled by the mud he was trudging on to reach Y/N. Still, the young woman jumped slightly at the intrusion of a deeply vulnerable moment.

Levi didn’t notice the woman’s tears or her red eyes. His mind was too preoccupied with the heavy confession and proposal he had planned.

It was the two of them alone now, just as he had always wanted it to be. Levi took a deep breath, and with a soft gaze, he stared into Y/N’s eyes.

“ Ms. Y/N, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer”, he started, still very much focused on the young woman’s eyes, completely oblivious to her now confused expression.

“These past few months have been a torment. I have come to Shiganshina with the single motive of seeing you, I have to see you”, he continued, surprising not only himself but Y/N as well. Levi had never confessed feelings to anyone, especially not deeply romantic ones. Y/N was different. She made him feel warm. She made him want to come out of his comfort zone, and she brightened his day whenever they met with her charming wit and honesty.

“ I’ve fought against my better judgement, my family’s expectations, the inferiority of your birth, my rank, and all these things and circumstances I’m willing to put aside. I ask you to end my agony”, he finished. He thought he made himself very clear. Apparently not.

“ I don’t understand”, asked Y/N, confused and with no hint of anger in her soft voice. Y/N always was sharp and intelligent. 9 times out of 10 her intuition and hunches were right, but god she hoped that wasn’t the case now, as this hunch seemed absolutely ridiculous!

Levi was screaming inside, but as always, maintained his perfect composure. The time had come, and for the very first time, he was about to say three words he had never ever dawdled on in his life.

“ I love you”, he breathed, his stoic expression softening further. His usually cold expression melted into one of sincere affection and hopefulness. But Y/N wasn’t impressed! Her prior anger had returned, and this time, it was more intense than ever! With her mouth agape, Y/N stared at the man in front of her with eyes as wide as saucers.

“ Most ardently”, Levi cut through the white noise that was the rain with his crisp, deep voice, gray orbs never leaving Y/N.

“ Please do me the honor of accepting my hand”, Levi requested.

“ Sir, I”, she stuttered, her mind reeling once more. She was repulsed, but she’d be maintaining her composure too. Y/N decided to gracefully reject his proposal.

“ I appreciate the struggle you’ve been through and I’m sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done”, she said, her tone as cold as ice. Levi was taken aback. He hadn’t expected such a cold, curt response to his proposal. Now it was his turn to have his temper rise…

“ Is this your reply?”, he asked still in disbelief

“ Yes, sir”, Y/N confirmed

“ Are you laughing at me?”, Levi asked, his heartbeat quickening

“ No”

“ Are you rejecting me?”, he said, his already pale skin growing paler, making him look like a ghost.

Y/N didn’t know what part of her response wasn’t going through his skull, and decided to make her point clear once more, this time with less civility.

“ I’m sure that the things you’ve told me which hindered your regard will help you in overcoming it”, she spat, riling Levi up more.

“ Might I ask why with so little endeavour at civility I must repulse?”

“ And I might as well enquire why with such evidence of a design of insulting me you chose to tell me you like me against your better judgement”, Y/N spat back, all composure gone.

“ No, believe me, I didn’t mean-” Levi began only to get off by a fuming Y/N.

“ If I was uncivil then that’s some excuse, but I have other reasons, you know I have”, Y/N shouted back, pouring all her frustration and unheard thoughts onto the man.

“ What reasons?”Levi asked, genuinely lost.

“ Did you think that anything would tempt me to accept the hand of the man who has ruined the happiness of my dearest sister, perhaps forever?”, Y/N finally voiced, lips quivering.

Levi made a little “oh”, realizing what put a damper on their possible relationship. Still, he didn’t back down. Levi may have been in love with Y/N, but his stubborn nature and pride made him refuse to let her off. He didn’t let anyone win in a fight, not even Y/N.

“ Do you deny it, Mr. Ackerman, that you’ve separated a young couple who really loved each other, therefore exposing your friend to the censure of the world for caprice and my sister, to its derision for disappointed hope?”, she began again, this time with a slight cry in her voice.

“ I do not deny it”, Levi deadpanned.

“ How could you do it?”Y/N demanded with a soft voice.

“ Because I believe your sister is indifferent to him”, he said honestly.

“ Indifferent?”

“ I watched them most carefully and realized his attachment was deeper than hers”

“ That’s because she’s shy”, Y/N yelled!

Levi took a second to process her words. That may be true, he thought, but still, he wouldn’t give up.

“ Erwin, too, is modest and was persuaded she didn’t feel strongly for him”,

“ Because you suggested it”

“ I did it for his own good’

“ My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me”, Y/N exclaimed, shaking with a rage so pure she could hear her heartbeats in her ears!

Levi’s eyes widened, and he was unable to close his mouth. He realized the depth of his mistake, and internally cursed at himself when he realized that this mistake was nearly impossible to fix. But even now, he still had one last argument to make, and this argument was the strongest and most heartfelt of all. Infact, even Y/N didn’t have much in her mind to counter it!

However, before he could speak, Y/N started talking again.

“ I supposed you suspected his fortune had some bearing on the matter”, she accused.

“ No, I wouldn’t do Christa the dishonor”, he denied, almost offended.

“ But it was suggested”, Levi admitted.

“ What was?”, Y/N asked, loudly, her previously hung head now erect.

“ It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage-”

“ Did my sister give that expression”, Y/N was outraged!

“ No, no, no”, Levi countered, trying to calm her down.

“ There was however the matter of your family”, Levi added. He knew it’d make things more heated, but he had to be honest. Honesty, brutal honesty to be specific, was something Levi was always known for.

“ Our want of connection? That Mr. Smith didn’t seem at all bothered by?”

“ No, it was more than that. It was the lack of propriety shown by your mother, your three younger sisters, and even on occasion your father”, he revealed. The look in his eyes was one of regret yet sternness. He knew that his words had deeply hurt Y/N, perhaps more than hers had hurt him. Y/N was grossly offended! How dare this snobby man insult the people she held most dear? How dare he hit her with the cold truth that she herself knew deep down…

Y/N remembered how boisterous and embarrassing her family was being at the ball where she and Mr. Ackerman had first met. Everyone was staring disapprovingly at them, and some of the wealthier attendees had whispered amongst themselves about her younger sisters. Y/N knew her family had a lot of improvements to make behaviour wise, but that didn’t stop her from feeling hurt.

" I’m sorry”, Levi apologized. He truly was sorry, but he couldn’t change the truth or take back his words.

“ You and Christa are excluded from the category I put the rest of your family in”, Levi added, hoping it’d make things better.

It had done nothing, as Y/N still had more points up her sleeve.

“ And what about Mr. Zeke Yeager?”, she questioned. Zeke Yeager had charmed Y/N months ago, and told her about how Levi had wronged him so terribly without reason. The mention of his name had hit a nerve in Levi. What was that expression on his face now? Jealousy, bitterness?

“ Mr. Yeager?”, he repeated.

“ What excuse do you have for your behaviour towards him?”

“ You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns”, Levi seethed, confirming that he was indeed jealous. Levi strode up to Y/N, shortening the gap that was between them before Yeager was brought up. Levi’s eyes searched for any hint of pettiness in Y/N’s. Maybe she was just as stubborn as he was and continuing an argument that should’ve been resolved by now. But no, to his sadness, Y/N’s eyes were full of affection for Yeager, and anger at Levi.

“ He told me of his misfortune”, Y/N said.

“ Oh, yes, his misfortune is big indeed”, Levi scoffed sarcastically.

“ You ruined his chances and yet you treat him with sarcasm”, Y/N noticed with disgust.

Levi wanted to scream and tell her that her impression of Yeager was completely wrong and that she was deceived. He wanted to defend himself, but for the first time in his life, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Levi’s stubbornness faltered, and he felt that winning Y/N’s heart would be near impossible now. There was so much she didn’t know, there were so many misconceptions she had, and there was so much she had against him rightfully. Levi hid the sorrow in his heart by letting his usual monotonous tone return to his voice…

“ So this is your opinion of me”, he asked, trying to sound calm and indifferent, but accidentally letting a sliver of sadness seep into the question. Y/N noticed everything, but she couldn’t get herself to care about his feelings right now. She was seeing red, but so was he.

Y/N’s silence agitated the man more.

“ Thanks for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offences might’ve been overlooked had your pride not been hurt by my honesty in a bit of a scruple about our relationship”, Levi let his tongue fly! He knew his words had stabbed Y/N in the same places hers had stabbed him! He couldn’t keep his calm anymore. His patience and grace was tested, and now Y/N would face its consequences.

“ Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?”, he questioned, his voice raising with each syllable. Y/N could feel tears welling up inside her again. My god, she hated this man. He insulted her family and status, then proceeded to hurt her pride and scathingly expose it, and now he was showing his superiority complex!

“ These are the words of a gentleman?" Y/N wondered aloud, her glare burning holes in Levi’s face.

“ From the first moment I saw you your arrogance, your conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you are the last man in the world I would ever be prevailed upon to marry”, she yelled! As always, Levi was silenced by a remark made by the spunky, sharp tongued Y/N L/N. Levi’s heart was glass, and Y/N had dropped it on the floor without a care in the world. How could he have been so stupid to think he could lash out at a woman as strongheaded as Y/N, insult everything she held dear, an get away with it with no harm done? Y/N’s glare lost its intensity as she blinked a few times. Her sight didn’t leave Levi, but it faltered. Levi came even closer to her. Even though she had left scars on his heart, even though she had yelled at him and called out every single one of his biggest flaws, he loved her. He wanted her, and he warmed at the thought of being with her. He looked longingly at her lips, then her eyes, and then her lips again. There was no touching, but Y/N was disarmed.

She felt herself softening, and for the first time she noticed Levi’s attractiveness. Like a magnet, she subconsciously felt herself nearing Levi’s lips. She was attracted to him, yes, but she hadn’t forgotten the prior row, and that stopped her from closing the gap between them officially. She didn’t pull away, much to her surprise, Levi did.

“ Forgive me”, he said once again, knowing she wouldn’t forgive him so easily, but still meaning the apology. Now that his head had cleared, all the most miserable emotions hit him like a cane. There was sadness at the rejection, bitter jealousy at Y/N’s affection going to Mr. Yeager, the pain of having one’s pride being minced to shreds, and of course: heavy remorse for yelling such mean things at the woman he loved…

“ I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, madam”, he whispered loud enough for Y/N to hear. And then he walked away without taking a single look back, leaving Y/N to drench in the rain some more.

Y/N stared at his back as he walked away, thinking of the argument and her feelings towards him. She didn’t understand how a man could infuriate her so much, but still disarm her with barely any effort and make her feel intense warmth.

Meanwhile, Levi’s heart cracked with every step he took. His love remained the same, even worse, it grew more severe. He wasn’t sure he had given up on winning Y/N over, but for now, he’d give her space, and pray to any lord up in the heavens who’d listen to him to change Y/N’s opinion on him, and to make him a better, more deserving man so that he could have her and make her happy, and of course: to make Y/N forgive him for all his grave mistakes which had caused this mess.

[bibbykins]

At-Fault Acid Rain

Who is the clown that decided to write fight drabbles for no reason? Me? Oh, damn.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it and feel free to keep sending me questions about the soft yandere boys I love them!

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jin x Reader (Scopophilic Affection drabble)

Summary: You and Jin did not fight often, you barely disagreed on anything, except for one big thing: your family. After a tense dinner with your family, and the shedding of your tears, Jin understands he needs to change his approach.

Alternatively: all the soft yandere boys go to mush during a fight the moment their darling starts to cry

The door was nearly ripped off its hinges as Jin opened it, passively aggressively, but still chivalrous, for you to give him the side eye as you stepped through the threshold of your shared apartment, "I'm sleeping on the fucking couch."  You seethed as you kicked off the pumps you wore.

"No, baby, let me." Sarcasm dripped from his tone as he followed suit while you fiddled with the zipper on your dress, "I obviously don't do enough for you, so I'll sleep on the couch." His tone was bitter to say the least.

You scoffed as your arms reached to get the damn dress off. You just wanted to shed this night off of your body. Your lovely lover thought it would be super wise to make underhanded verbal jabs at each and every member of your family until the entire dinner was eaten in silence before everyone even got their main course. 

Needless to say, you were mortified. Regardless of how shitty your family has been to you, you did still love them. You did still see them as family, even if they just saw you as a disappointment, now a bitchy gold-digging disappointment. You and Jin had bickered the whole way home about what was and wasn't called for as well as his motives behind his very thinly veiled insults to your family. Was he standing up for you or did he genuinely look down on your family? 

And by extension, did he look down on you?

You felt him pull the zipper down as your arms returned to your side, "How can you be so goddamn stubborn sometimes?" He muttered under his breath as he leaned down to try and kiss your neck, obviously hoping for makeup sex before a fight fully breaks out. You and Jin had been pretty good about not fighting, but when it came to the topic of your family, it was difficult, to say the least.

Jin despised your family very, very strongly. He was crazy about you, and crazy in general, so he hated anyone who made you feel like anything less than the goddess you are to him. You, on the other hand, still maintain a wry smile to your family's backhanded compliments. This drove him to the brink of insanity, resulting in his much harsher quips back to your cousins, your aunts, your uncles, and especially your parents. 

Overcome with love and an unwillingness to fight in risk of relenting, Jin always tried to have sex and deal with it then. 

Keyword: tried. You marched towards the room before his mouth could make contact and extinguish the angry fire in your body, "I would love it if you didn't touch me right now." You snapped as you put on a large t-shirt, deliberately choosing one you already owned instead of one of Jin's.

Taking notice of this, Jin found his libido drop and his irritation spike. How could you not understand he was on your side?! "I would love it if you could stop being mad at me for being honest during dinner about your shitty family!" You flinched at his volume when he crossed the threshold of the bedroom while you took off your jewelry.

You laughed humorously, "Honest or not, they don't need more fucking reasons to despise me anymore!" You shot back, "The way they looked at me tonight… I couldn't even eat!" You were beyond irritated that Jin couldn't see why you were angry, "The last time they looked at me like that was when I told them I wanted to major in Theatre!"

"Well, I ate just fine and the food was delicious." Jin clipped back as you slammed the earings on the nightstand

"Unbelievable." You murmured as you grabbed a pillow and brushed past the broad-shouldered man in the doorway.

Jin scoffed as he followed you, "I don't see why you still give a damn about what they think of you!" You pursed your lips and shook your head, "You're not a kid anymore, they're opinion shouldn't matter!" He tried to reason with you.

"Of course you don't get it." Your voice dropped lower, usually a signal to Jin to reel it in, but he was far too stubborn and confident he would win this fight.

"What does that mean?!" He challenged with all of his bravado as you patted the pillow against the armrest of the couch.

You whipped your head around to scrutinize his form, still suit clad with only the tie loosened, "You have no idea what it's like to be brought up with expectations so high and miss the mark so terribly, not only do you get shit on all the damn time, you aren't even given the decency of a chance to redeem yourself!" You were hurt, and Jin began to regret his big mouth, "Your parents love you and respect you and trust your judgement." Jin's jaw clenched, "My family loves me, yeah, but because it is expected of them, and they meet their fucking expectations unlike their creative mistake from a family of accountants!" You could hardly keep track of your words, "They love me but they don't respect me, not even enough to expect anything from me anymore!"

Jin knew he should've stopped but he couldn't stand the way you looked at him, and he wanted to be right, "I earned my parents respect!" He retorted, "You…!" He trailed off, having to reevaluate the very shitty and incorrect thing he was going to say, hoping you would just drop it.

When he saw the pain flash through your widened eyes, he wanted to crumble, "I…?" You waited expectantly, "What? I didn't earn their respect?" Your voice was eerily soft and Jin knew what it meant. You were going to cry. Your tears stung him like acid, dissolving his fight within seconds. You seldom fully cried, so when you did Jin saw red at the cause, but when the cause was him, which had only happened once before this, he spent weeks apologizing. You were his everything, the last thing he ever wants is to make you feel like anything less. Jim never won any of your arguments, though he likes to think he has once, but the moment you cry the idea of winning or loosing becomes insignificant.

Jin's eyes softened as he took a very tentative step towards you, "No, baby, I didn't mean-"

You held your hand up, effectively silencing him, "No, no, you're right, what have I done to earn their respect?" You shrugged and your voice shook as Jin stepped closer to you, "I have been nothing but respectful to them even while they spit on every accomplishment I've had, and when I finally bring home a boy, he makes them feel as small as they have made me feel and…" You inhaled shakily, as Jin braced himself, "And if that's what you think of them… what on Earth do you think of me?" Your voice cracked as the dam in your tear ducts shattered and you broke down into tears and Jin's stubborn resolve dissolved with it.

He engulfed you in a hug, despite your initial fight to put as much distance as possible between you both. With his strength your efforts were fruitless physically, but affected him emotionally as he held you firmly against him until you gave up. You cried into his chest, undoubtedly getting mascara all over his very expensive dress shirt as he held you close, stroking your hair, "I think that of them because they are cowards." His tone was softer, "I think that you, on the other hand, are the most courageous and passionate person I know." 

"You're just saying that because I'm crying." You hiccuped as you gripped his shirt.

He laughed shortly, "I'll admit that I hate to see you cry, Leopard." You relaxed a bit against the nickname, "But I mean it." He kissed the top of your head, "I just get so fucking angry when I see those bastards looking down on you, like they all wanted to do fucking math for a living, like they weren't just too cowardly to follow their own fucking dream, so they channel all their self hatred onto my beautiful fianceè, who doesn't need a boy to make her look better when compared to a family full of idiots." He swayed you both back and forth as you caught your breath, "I think the world of you, fuck, you are my world." You sniffled, relaxed against his form as he swayed, "I'm sorry I was an asshole and most importantly," He cupped your face to look at you, "I'm sorry I made you think for a second that I think of you as anything less than the person I admire the most." Your eyes softened as he wiped the stray tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

"Ugh, Jin," You groaned into his chest, "Why are you so good with words?" You sighed, leaning into his touch, "I'm sorry I freaked out, I really don't give too much of a shit what you say to them, but I'm just so used to them being the standard for perfection and so I just thought that if you think they suck, then I really must be nothing more than a pretty face to you." You shifted your gaze to the floor, uncomfortable spilling your insecurities after a fight.

"Are you kidding?!" Jin's tone demanded your attention, "I think you're a goddamn magician with the shit you can do for sets and for screen plays, your mind is fantastic and your personality lights up my life!" 

"Jin-"

"I love you so much, you are beautiful, yeah, but you're also intelligent, strong, hardworking, clever, fearless-" Jin's gushing was cut short by your lips smashing onto his in a kiss he quickly melted into. His hands went to your waist as he pulled you flush against him and massaged your mouth with his own.

You both pulled away to catch your breaths, "I love you too, you obnoxious, crazy, and stubborn man." You huffed against his mouth, "Thank you for standing up for me, babe, but just wait till we finish eating next time, hm?" 

Jin nodded before pressing a quick kiss to your lips, "Now that's how you compromise." He grinned, "To make up for it, I'll make you your favorite, since my poor little Leopard didn't eat." You smiled before stealing another kiss, "Also I feel terrible for making you cry, so I'll get started." He chuckled lightly.

Before he could pull from your embrace, you pulled him in for another kiss as you stood on your tippy toes, "Darling?" You nuzzled your nose onto his as he hummed in question, his knees weakening, as you gripped his collar to bring him down and whisper in his ear, "If you really want to make my family sweat, tell the more about what you do for a living Mr. Board Member and Computer Science man." You mused playfully before placing a kiss to his ear as he straightened and met your eyes. The light had returned to them along with the smile you gave him, "Or whatever your impressive title is." You giggled, making him smile wide as he took in your features.

"Stop distracting me, beautiful." Jin chided before giving you a quick kiss and heading towards the kitchen, "You can seduce me after you eat the apology meal!" He called from the kitchen making your roll your eyes as you sat on the couch, "Gosh, my fiancè keeps trying to have makeup sex with me!" He whined sarcastically, making you smile.

You scoffed mockingly, "Oh really? Do you want me to tell her to stop?" You joked as you heard a small clatter of pans.

"NO!" Jin called as he collected himself, making you laugh, "I can handle it just fine, I'm a strong man!" He called out, not knowing you had snuck into the kitchen.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, chest pressed against his back as he stirred the pot in front of him, "I love you, dummy." You mumbled against him.

Jin paused his movements for a moment before placing on hand over yours. He closed his eyes for a moment, blissfully sighing before his face relaxed into an equally blissful smile, "I love you most, Leopard." He squeezed your hand as you nuzzled into him. Jin could put aside his pride for you and you alone, he would move mountains for you. However, he had all intentions to put your family in their place, and to make sure they understood their place was beneath you. You, his goddess, his universe, his lovely Leopard.

[butiaintgonnaloveem]

Keep Me Company

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x Reader

Word Count: Approx 3300

Warnings: Adult language and situations, non-overly graphic sexual times

A/N: Written and submitted for @wi-deangirl77​‘s That’s Some Supernatural Schitt writing challenge. Thanks for being patient!! And my gosh, @plaidstiel-wormstache​ was a magician with her beta skills.

Set sometime after S12. Arthur Ketch and the woman in this story have an established relationship. You know how it goes, something casual develops into something more...maybe.

Arrogant.

That’s what he is, but the word’s not sharp enough to be an insult. Not one he’d care about anyway.

“You seem a bit wound up. Something on your mind?” he asks.

She wants to tell him that she hates him. It’s the easy thing to do. It’s not even like he’s a good person, but it wouldn’t be true and he’d see it for exactly what it is - antagonism.

Always polite, patient, and god damn glorious in bed. He’s done nothing outright to deserve such wrath, either. Except for doing nothing out of the ordinary at all.

“How so?” she tries for casual and evidently fails based on the look of annoyance he throws her way.

“You’re quiet. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re bored.” 

“Well…” she trails off, unsure of what to say or how to say it. She knew what came next - sex. Of course, before that there were drinks. Her glass would never be empty, from bar to table to the hotel suite, which is not usually the issue. Then there was dinner, followed by a dessert that would be left unfinished at the table. As she mulls it all over, she wonders if maybe that was where this night went wrong; unfinished thoughts clouded by alcohol, or maybe the wine was too relaxing. Either way, the brain to mouth filter malfunction was unstoppable.

“You should be nicer to me,” she blurts out.

That gets an eyebrow lift in response, then a squint as he thinks over her words. “I do believe I have behaved like the gentleman I was raised to be.”

“That’s not,” she heaves a sigh as she collects her thoughts, “I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then by all means, please elaborate,” he says as he sets the cloth napkin on the table and sits back. He’s letting her pick this fight and he knows it.

“I don’t appreciate being put on the spot.”

“I don’t appreciate my companion keeping secrets from me.”

That word. So emotionless and generic. It’s what sets her off.

“You know that you sound like Humperdinck?”

“What?”

“Your voice, your accent. You sound like Prince Humperdinck from ‘The Princess Bride.’ He was an arrogant asshole too.”

His lips purse and she watches the corner of his mouth twitch. “What, exactly, does that have to do with our evening?”

“Nothing. It just annoys me.”

He scrutinizes her, “I see.” He calls for the check and doesn’t bother to initiate further conversation. He still gets up first and helps to pull out her chair for her. Then guides her with a hand at her waist, and steps forward to open doors.

The car ride is silent aside from the quiet music playing and while it’s not comfortable, she’s also foolishly not telling him the night is over. Her back aches from the tension and from twisting her body to face away from him and toward the window. The dark tinted glass doesn’t give much of a view of the outside, but she can watch his reflection from time to time as it catches the light and catches him with that damn smirk of his.

Arrogant and smug, what a combination.

When they finally make it into the hotel suite, he drops the careful grin he used in public, twisting his neck with obvious annoyance.

“Well now, shall we talk like adults or do you plan to insult me for the evening?” He pulls the door closed behind her and then moves to the closet, meanwhile she stands still in the entryway of the suite, stubborn. 

“I can do both.”

“As fun as that sounds, it’s not what I had in mind for our time together.” He removes his jacket and hangs it in the closet, smoothing down its front before turning back to her.

“Right, because that would mess up your routine, and here we are already ahead of schedule.” She turns so the zipper of her dress is facing him, “Go ahead, let’s do this.”

He pauses with one hand at the knot of his tie, ready to loosen it. Again, the look of scrutiny aimed her way. “Ahead of schedule? What does that mean?”

She turns to him and sighs, her expression flat, she was fed up. “It means, Arthur, that every time we do this, it’s the same thing. A call, a fancy dinner, drinks, dessert, then back to the hotel suite, another drink, you undress me and then we end up in bed.”

“It’s more than that,” he argues half-heartedly, “And you’ve never left unsatisfied.” It almost sounds like a question, or perhaps an accusation.

“That’s true, but…”

“But what?” he steps closer, hands in his pockets and face unreadable.

“Does this mean anything to you?” Her face burns hot, hating herself immediately for how needy it sounds.

He stares, his face unchanging. His breathing measured and posture the usual - upright and commanding. 

Her body burns hot and cold while her stomach twists and flips. She’s afraid to move because just about anything might set off the instinct to cry at the moment, either from anger or embarrassment. She tries to keep the tremble from her voice as she asks the next question on her mind. 

“Maybe this one is easier: would you miss me if you never saw me again?”

“You know that in this line of work--” He begins, calm, rehearsed, but it angers her further.

Arrogant, smug, and standoffish.

“I am not asking for promises. Jesus Christ, I know exactly how things are, I don’t need a speech about how we might die on a hunt, about how we need to focus on the bigger picture. Okay? I know all of that.” Her face falls, “I also know that you are not the heartless killing machine that people describe you as.”

He opens his mouth to deny it but she cuts him off. 

“No! No, Arthur. I mean, yes, you kill, but you’re allowed to care for people too. Like it or not, you cared for Toni in some way I will never understand, and,” she hesitates, “And there was Mary Winchester.”

He visibly reels just at the name, but does well to keep control over his reaction, not letting much more out even as he speaks. “Why? Admitting something like that puts us both in danger, allows others to use it against you, and for what? A moment of happily ever after? To satisfy your curiosity or to feel as though you’ve won?”

“You’re not void of emotion, no matter how hard those bastards tried to beat it out of you. I feel like you care, and I’ll admit that I want you to. But whether you honestly do or don’t, I just don’t want to feel like a whore you pay for with an expensive meal and a hot shower. If nothing else, don’t you at least consider me a friend? Or is ‘companion’ really the best I am ever gonna get?”

In a blink, he resets to a more neutral expression, lips only slightly pursed as he thinks. “Is all this really because I called you my companion at dinner?” He turns and moves to a marble counter, pouring the bourbon into two tumbler glasses. He hands one to her and out of habit, she takes it, hand trembling, holding it to her chest as she watches him take a large sip. 

“I don’t need you to tell me anything that isn’t true.” Her gaze drops to the amber liquid in the glass, “I don’t need promises or anything else. But, what I do want is to know that I am not just a placeholder, or a warm body.” Looking back up, she checks he’s listening, seeing if her words are hitting their mark, “I care about you, and I would sure as hell miss you if you left my life after tonight. I just...I just want to know that...God this all sounds so much worse than I imagined.” She turns and paces away, fingers swiping along her bottom lashes to collect the tears gathering.

“I thought you weren’t asking for promises,” he accuses.

“I’m not!” She erupts. She immediately realizes it was the wrong reaction as he squares his shoulders and widens his stance for an argument. After taking a sip and letting it slowly roll down her throat, she softens her tone and tries another approach, “I’m asking for emotion, for you to tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see a difference.” 

Arrogant, smug, standoffish, and dense. 

“You’re serious?”

“I would hardly call myself an expert on this subject. And by subject, I mean genuine human emotion. Though, you know, it never ends well for those who want the best of both worlds. Believe me, it’s best to draw the line right there.” He tells her, using his free hand to indicate an imaginary line, but failing to meet her eyes.

And there it is, slight as could be, but still a chink in his armor. There was the man she knew wanted affection, but denied himself at every turn.

“Yeah, I am getting that. For all your skills picked up from the Men of Letters, how are you so terrible at this?” She takes another sip from her glass, “Nevermind. Do not answer that.” 

Arrogant, smug, standoffish, dense, abstentious.

She takes a moment, weighing the pros and cons of her thought before expressing it out loud, “Do you think that avoiding happiness is going to keep you from being hurt?”

He scoffs, slipping the tie loose from his collar and pulling it from around his neck. In an uncharacteristic move, Arthur drops it onto the chair nearby instead of neatly setting it away. He sips on his drink while considering the question, eyes wandering like the answer might suddenly appear written on the walls. Moments pass during the quiet, but when he finally lifts his head to speak, his expression has softened.

“I don’t avoid happiness.” He talks as he sets his drink down and moves towards her, “I have plenty in my life to keep me happy,” he takes her drink from her hand, “I try, and evidently fail, to avoid attachment or sentiment.”

He takes her hand, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing across her knuckles, then turning it over and gently placing a kiss to her palm. He then turns her hand again, leaning his cheek into it, meeting her curious gaze. 

“I see the weakness in those who invest too much in others. I’ve felt it in myself. Misplaced expectations and projections of fears and needs muddling things up.” He grips her other hand and holds it between their chests, tight but not too tight. It’s meant to keep her attention on him, not that she could focus on anything else when he’s that close and unguarded.

“With something to lose it’s nearly impossible to make the hard choices, and that is who I am. I’m the one called in for the less appealing jobs; someone with nothing to lose and no one to leave behind.”

“Arthur,” she whispers, heart aching and chest tight with hurt. But not by his words this time, by the truth in his tone. Hurt for him.

“It’s alright, love. It’s the role I play,” He lets their hands drop from his cheek, his grip loose in her hand, but she clutches it tighter. 

“Do you really believe you wouldn’t leave anything behind?” She asks, watching him, waiting for another flicker, some small flinch to indicate he would let himself have this.

He frowns at her, like an animal that can see so plainly the object of desire, and yet knows there’s a trap they can’t make out. He pulls his hand from hers and turns.

“Nothing but ghosts, and maybe a few women,” He huffs, trying to turn the heaviness of the question into a joke. 

That’s it, that’s the last rejection she can take. She turns for the door, even opens it, before he’s in front of her, stopping her, eyes full of terror for abandonment. 

“Don’t leave,” tries to order, but winces at the desperation in his voice. 

“Ask me to stay,” She whispers. “Or tell me that I mean nothing to you and let me leave. You really can’t be that desperate for a fuck, can you?” She stares at him dead-on, letting him hear it in her words, and read it in her body language that she isn’t bluffing. 

“I…” He clears his throat, straightens his shoulders, trying to gain control of the situation, while fidgeting with discomfort.  When he doesn’t say anything, she makes another move for the door behind him.

“Stay.” He watches her, as if unaware he’s said it. 

Vulnerable. A word she never thought she would use for him.

She doesn’t need him to say it again, she heard it loud and clear. It doesn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction as she stares back and eloquently asks, “What?”

“You know, I don’t often make requests unless I am certain I will get what I want,” he tries for the usual Ketch swagger, but it sounds more broken than anything.

“I couldn’t have been more clear that all you had to do was ask.”

“Then stay?”

They watch each other for a few seconds, making certain that neither would move. She lets go of the door, allowing it to slam shut behind her, then puts a hand at the back of his neck and pulls him in to kiss her. He’s pliant, but steady as he goes along with her guidance. His one arm reaches around her waist while the other spreads wide at the back of her head, holding her mouth to his.

His feet move along as she shuffles them back toward the bed, but he stops them before they can tumble onto the sheets.

He pulls away, eyes steely blue and dark, and huffing breaths against her cheek. “It was never my intention to make you feel unappreciated.” His fingers move while he speaks, nimble fingers pulling down the zipper of her dress and letting it fall open and loose on her back.

She looks up at him, making certain he sees the genuine acceptance she offers, “I know.” She shrugs her shoulders, letting the straps fall and the fabric begin to fold down and around her, caught over his hands.

He slowly begins to lower himself down to the ground, onto his knees, hands gently skimming over her body, her dress following, before both rest at her hips, eyes never leaving hers. “I certainly never intended to make you feel unwanted.”

A trembling breath passes between her lips while she looks down at him. He stares back confidently yet penitent as he kneels in front of her, hands spreading over her as though eager to grab, but full of restraint and remaining tender.

“I fully intend to make it up to you,” his voice is soft and steady. His thumbs move to meet at the center of her stomach, just below her belly button. Then, with fingers spread wide, he slides them down, pulling the dress until it falls in a circle around her feet. He hums and looks her up and down appreciatively, “Many, many times over.”

Sometimes he can be vulnerable and affectionate, too.

She looks up and says a silent ‘thank you’ to no one in particular. Her hands rest at her sides, sometimes flinching when his touch almost tickles, but patiently waiting as he teases her. His lips skim along the skin above her underwear, and his hands roam across her lower back, ass, and the backs of her thighs. His breaths are warm and controlled, heating her skin as he moves close, but not exactly to where she is starting to grow wet. 

Her own breaths become shaky and uneven as she waits for what feels like an unfair amount of time, one hand clenched in a fist as she debates just shoving her fingers into her own underwear to get things moving along. With the other, she pushes through his hair. It’s longer than he’s kept it before, and she can feel where it’s twisting into curls at the ends. Her fingertips tickle along the back of his neck, just under his hairline, feeling the sweat already start to dampen his collar. 

She pulls her hand back to drag her nails through, drawing a low growl from him that she feels more than she hears. He tilts his head with the movement her hand as it strokes through his hair and he stares up at her again, pink splotches marking his cheekbones and giving away his excitement.

“You can really get started with that anytime now,” she tries to joke, but it’s edged with desperation.

“As you wish,” he says with a playful glint in his eye.

She gasps, “You -” but doesn’t finish because of course he takes that moment to start to press his thumb in circles of pressure over her, making her nerves tingle, setting off a rush of pleasure. “Ohh. More,” she whispers.

He cheekily replies again, “As you wish.”

Vulnerable, affectionate, playful.

There is no stopping her smile now, “You bastard,” she accuses, but the insult falls as flat as she does as he pushes her down to the bed. She lands with a surprised laugh which turns airy as he pulls her underwear down from her waist.

He starts to kiss at her calf, moving his way up her legs with his mouth and hands constantly wandering, massaging, tickling. “I am a bastard, but I still know the classics. I am certainly more like Westley than you give me credit for.”

“Tell me how perfect my breasts are then,” she mumbles.

He chuckles and stops at the tops of her thighs, muttering something that sounds like an affirmation before he uses just his fingertips to graze along her sensitive skin. He watches for a few seconds as he spreads her wetness back and forth. She feels the heat of his breath as he moves in, and gently presses his lips and the tip of his tongue against her. When he places his mouth on her, she immediately bucks up into him, greedy for pressure and movement. 

With a blink, he turns his look upward, leering at her. His lips spread slightly as he applies more pressure, allowing two of his fingers to tease at her entrance, all while he watches for her reactions.

She remains still, playing along with his little game for a moment, but when he slides away, just shy of where she wants his fingers, she loses all patience.

“What happened to making it up to me?” She pushes herself up to rest on her elbows.

He shifts himself onto the bed until he is face to face with her again, looking her over as though trying to memorize her. 

“Well, you are going to stay, aren’t you?” He stares into her eyes as he waits for her answer.

“Yes,” she tells him, unwavering.

“Well then,” he slides back down her body, stopping to kiss across her collarbone and down one breast, and then the other. The soft kisses tickle more than they linger, but lead in a direct path back between her legs, where he settles on his knees on the floor. “I’ve got time, haven’t I?”

Thorough. That’s another word for him.  

[vulturhythm]

tell me what you hate about me

geralt is used to words of venom being spat in his direction.

he’s used to those words being accompanied by rocks or stones or scat or food, sometimes, depending on who exactly his presence has managed to offend.

he’s used to retreating from the village and wandering a good few miles away before finding a quiet patch off the road to rest.

he’s used to taking off his shirt in the peace of the forest to inspect the damage - never more than some bruises, although some do wind up being far darker and more painful than others. nothing a little salve won’t fix.

he’s used to laying back to sleep in the grass, comfortable in the knowledge that, for all the beasts in the woods that may want a taste, they will never wound him so sorely as the words of man.

geralt is... geralt is not used to jaskier.

- - -

the bard throws the worst of stones into the workings of geralt’s once-routine existence, and for the longest while, geralt isn’t quite sure how he’s meant to adjust. he knows how to handle the rumors and the hatred and the venom. how in melitele’s name is he meant to handle the kindness, the determination to help?

jaskier says that he can change geralt’s reputation, that he can make the world fawn at his feet.

geralt has his doubts. for many a month, he keeps to the back corners of the taverns in which his newfound menace performs, wary of the people who cast him even warier glances. even as he sees the people learn the words to “toss a coin” over time, even as he sees them loosen up, even as he comes to be greeted with a sort of cautious awe rather than outright, fearful disdain, he finds it difficult to grasp.

surely he’ll slip up somehow. surely humanity will go straight back to hating its “friend.”

- - -

slip up he does, two or three years into jaskier’s time with him.

they had meandered toward blaviken out of necessity - the shortest path between two towns in search of contracts, growing scarce in the winter months, as they headed for kaer morhen - as much as geralt loathed the idea of returning. jaskier had long since noticed his growing discomfort, and when he’d said that surely even the folk of blaviken would have forgotten, would have learned him as the white wolf by now...

when he’d said that surely nothing would go wrong, geralt had been fool enough to believe him.

- - -

it’s late at night when they amble into town, jaskier seated on roach’s haunch just behind him. the bard is rambling on about something or other - no doubt a story he’s told dozens of times before - but geralt has long since tuned him out.

he’s rigid in the saddle, his grip on the reins tight enough that roach snorts when he turns her head, jerking her chin up in reply. the streets are empty at this hour, illuminated by the lanterns hanging on the walls; a handful of chickens and a mutt are meandering about, patiently scattering when geralt guides his mare through their midst. he glances down a street he recognizes, shudders at the memory of the men he’d slain on those very stones... at the memory of a dark-haired shrike, bleeding in his arms -

“geralt,” jaskier is saying, and from the urgency in his tone, he’s been trying to say it for some time now. “geralt, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

he feels fingers come to rest on his arm, and geralt jerks away on instinct, a muffled snarl rising in his throat - panicked, caged, unsure. jaskier pauses then, but even as geralt turns roach toward the inn, the bard sets his hands more firmly upon him, touching first his upper arms, then his waist, squeezing gently. “geralt,” he repeats, his voice smoother now. “get off the horse for a moment.”

geralt is already obeying, looping his mare’s reins about a hitching post to the side of the building and backing off a few steps, instinct driving him from the glow of the lantern and into the shadows just beyond. he watches, tense and silent, as jaskier hops down after him, leaving his lute where it’s strung up on roach’s saddle in favor of slowly drawing near.

“can you tell me what’s going through your head right now?” jaskier asks, in that same low tone, and part of geralt bristles, for it’s the same sort of voice you’d use to soothe a child or unruly animal. “what are you remembering?”

he scoffs then, lip curling in a sharp-toothed mockery of a smile as he backs off another step, one hand up - signaling jaskier to keep at bay, and, blessedly, the bard complies, staying within the lamplight and allowing geralt to retreat into the shadows. “everything,” he huffs, low and frustrated. “all the blood, all the - all the pain...”

something in jaskier’s eyes softens. “that street you were looking down?” he asks, and geralt nods. “oh, geralt... i’m sorry, i didn’t think about... the memories, when i said we should cut through here - “

“why would you?” he mutters, slowly dropping his hand once he knows jaskier won’t approach. he feels caged regardless, caught within his own skin - restless, frightened, burning. “witchers don’t feel.” he spits the words out like a curse, fangs still bared as he looks away.

he doesn’t have to look to know that jaskier’s face has fallen - he can smell the guilt on him.

“geralt,” the bard repeats. “you know i’m the last person who’d think that... i’ve seen you, i’ve seen who you really are...”

the witcher laughs, short and bitter, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. his gaze is darting between the buildings around them, marking the familiar ones, the things that happened there, and then - then his eyes light on the tavern across the way, where renfri first approached...

he’s drawing away before he knows it, jaskier all but forgotten as his gaze strays next to the inn they’re standing beside - to the slanted rooftop and the attic window above.

“of course it is. i’m a princess, aren’t i?”

the shrike’s voice creeps into his ears unbidden, and geralt shakes his head, a muffled snarl rising in his throat. he doesn’t realize he’s neared the back of the little alley until his back collides with the wall of the stable attached; geralt flinches away, then gives in, sinking down to crouch at its base.

“geralt,” jaskier is repeating, slowly easing closer. “geralt, my wolf, can you let me nearer? i want to try and help...”

“there’s nothing you can do,” geralt scoffs, but he doesn’t protest when the bard draws nearer, sinking down to kneel just in front of him. he watches him with uncertain eyes, breathing in deep and smelling only sympathy - not a trace of fear. “jaskier...”

the bard gives him a small, weak smile, asking, “may i touch you?”

geralt hesitates, trying to take stock of himself through the frightened, anxious haze he’s lost in. this sort of kindness... he’s not used to it. he doesn’t have the slightest fucking clue how to handle it. “not... not now,” he mumbles at last, and there’s guilt in his tone. “i’m s - “

but jaskier cuts him off. “don’t start,” he says, moving slowly as he comes to sit against the wall with geralt, a half-foot away - telegraphing his movements, geralt realizes, bewildered. “you’ve done nothing wrong.”

he scoffs, shaking his head; with jaskier here, it’s easier to close his eyes, to try and block out the town around them. “you wanted a bed tonight,” he mumbles, wondering why he doesn’t smell a hint of anger or disappointment or... or anything on his friend. “i can’t - jaskier, i can’t stay here - “

“i don’t blame you for it,” jaskier breaks in once more, tone soft and steady. “what happened here, it was... it was terrible. i shouldn’t have asked that we come through here.”

“you couldn’t have known this would happen - “

“but i should have guessed. i should have listened when you expressed your doubts.”

geralt is truly fucking bewildered now, some of his anxiety easing in the face of utter confusion. why is jaskier accepting blame here? “if we’d come here during the day... there’d be people throwing stones...”

he scents pity now - no, not pity, genuine sympathy. it has geralt reeling. “when you feel up to it, we can ride on,” the bard murmurs, and geralt feels his eyes on him, even though his own are closed. “got to be a good, cozy patch of grass somewhere ahead.”

“you stay for the night,” geralt tries, soft and weak, “i’ll leave roach here, you can catch up to me at dawn - “

“no,” comes jaskier’s reply, and it’s so firm that geralt winces. “fuck, sorry - geralt... i’m not letting you go out there alone tonight, not when you’re like this.”

geralt heaves a sigh, finally opening his eyes again, though he doesn’t dare lift them to the streets ahead, instead staring down at his hands, clenched tight on his knees. “why do you care?” he asks abruptly.

jaskier pauses.

it’s the longest few seconds of geralt’s painful life.

“because,” he says at last, and geralt doesn’t flinch when he feels a gentle hand come to rest on his shoulder, “you’re my friend, geralt... my closest and truest friend...”

the words have him reeling.

“can’t imagine why,” he mutters at last. “thought surely you’d hate me, too, by now...”

jaskier breathes out a little sigh; the sound of rustling fabric is all the warning geralt has before the bard is kneeling just in front of him, a delicate hand coming to tilt his chin up. geralt meets his gaze reluctantly, startled when he finds only affection there. “do you truly think i could ever grow to hate you?”

geralt doesn’t answer.

everyone else does. beyond the taverns where you perform, they all loathe me. they’re afraid of me. they tell horror stories to their children, and i’m the monster.

he doesn’t say that.

he doesn’t have to.

“geralt,” jaskier is murmuring again, so soft and soothing, “listen to me... i’ve traveled with you, what, nearly three years now? in that time... in that time, i’ve only ever known you to do your best, and isn’t that the most that any of us can manage?”

“my best still leaves innocent people dead,” geralt mutters in reply.

“those deaths aren’t on you,” he says firmly; geralt tenses only slightly when jaskier’s hand comes to cup his face instead, though he relaxes into the touch when the bard’s thumb brushes along his cheekbone. “i know you feel that they are, but... geralt, you can hold no guilt for that.”

he gives a vague, weary laugh in reply, closing his eyes. he doesn’t protest when jaskier reaches up to comb his matted hair aside. “you can’t deny what i did to the people here,” he says.

jaskier hesitates. “no,” he admits softly, “but i can tell you this... you did what you thought best, what needed to be done. how the rest reacted - all their hatred? that’s on them.”

“renfri,” he murmurs, uttering the name for the first time in what feels a lifetime. “i shouldn’t have killed her. i should have taken stregobor’s life when given the chance. she was barely even grown, jaskier, she could have lived well without him hanging overhead - “

he’s growing agitated again, that restless snarl returning to his voice, and jaskier must be able to tell, for suddenly he’s pressing closer, working his way into the gap between geralt’s legs to draw him in for - for a hug.

a hug.

i’ve never been hugged. not that i can remember.

“geralt,” the bard is murmuring as he pulls him in, and geralt finds it only natural to tip his head forward, to rest it against jaskier’s shoulder and close his eyes. “you did what you could.”

they both fall quiet then, geralt far too focused on the feeling of jaskier’s hand rubbing slow circles onto his back to bother with protesting. it’s... it’s nice.

it’s nice.

at long last, he speaks again, breathing in slow and tucking his head closer into jaskier’s neck. “if - if we leave now... will you hold me like this again...?”

jaskier pauses, and for an instant, geralt is certain he’s said the wrong thing. “of course,” he murmurs, a few seconds later; geralt blinks when he feels a gentle kiss bestowed upon the top of his head. “of course...”

- - -

they leave blaviken behind, well before sunrise.

geralt doesn’t begin to properly relax until the livestock town is many miles at their rear. jaskier, seated behind him like usual, is holding him close, arms about his waist and head against his back.

when they stop at last to camp, geralt doesn’t hesitate to settle in at jaskier’s side; somehow, he knows that comfort is always offered now.

he doesn’t quite understand it...

he doubts he ever will.