#i may do it a third time and cut another inch off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rageprufrock · 1 year

Note

am i going to watch a whole show (mysterious lotus casebook) just so i can read your fic about it? yes. Am I also indefinitely suspended in a state of melancholy yearning for your vaguely-promised addition to Whittled Down by Another War? also yes. May sleep continue to elude you.

You know what? Ask and ye shall receive at least some of it, which I have written so far. Happy reading.

The first guy Porsche ever fools around with is a Korean tourist on vacation who shoots his shot in broken Thai. He's all smooth skin and silver-blond hair, wearing skintight jeans and a billowy pearl shirt; Porsche thinks he looks iridescent in the pink light of Hum Bar, between his light hair and light contacts, and he knows, objectively, that the guy is prettier than half the girls in the room tonight.

Because Porsche is sort of an asshole, he doesn't really catch the guy's name—Taemin? Jimin? something like that?—but he does remember thinking that it might be worth figuring out what the big deal was, and holding up his cigarettes, saying, "My break's in 15 minutes." It's a decision he makes out of pure curiosity without any influence from recent social factors, new acquaintances, members of the Bangkok underworld, or their specific tendencies to walk around with their tits hanging out of their designer shirts.

It's nice, because it's almost never not nice when someone is nice enough to put their mouth on your dick, but Porsche thinks—vague with formless disappointment—that it's only nice. Out of good hookup etiquette, Porsche offers and performs what he hopes is an acceptable handjob before giving his partner some alleyway wet wipes and a cigarette. It's a solid 6/10 experience, and he ends up dropping a few Google Maps pins for the kid for good restaurant recommendations and tells him which tourist traps to avoid if at all possible. It is the most ambivalent he has ever felt about a sexual experience, and it leaves him annoyed in a way Porsche decides not to think about.

"Are you serious?" Tem demands, when Porsche comes back from the alley. "It's not enough for you to Bogart all the hot chicks in his bar, you have to start poaching guys?"

"I'm allowed to try new things," Porsche whines.

Tem narrows his eyes. "Is this about your crush on the mafia guy?"

"This is homophobic," Porsche says, feeling a rising sense of dread, because Tem is one of his best friends, and the worst part of intimacy is being known. "And anyway it was—fine. It was extremely okay. It was no big deal. Turns out I'm still just straight."

"You are a complete fucking clown is what you are," Tem says to him, which turns out to be only the third-meanest thing Tem calls him that night.

The second time Porsche hooks up with a guy, he's actually Thai, which allows for improved communication but provides stunningly little benefit otherwise. King is a solid six inches shorter than Porsche, with glossy black hair and beestung lips, wearing a mesh shirt and cut up shorts. He leans over the bar with a flattering interest and the type of confidence that looks sexy on anybody, hooks one finger into the place where Porsche's shirt button is fighting for its life, and asks if he's interested in going somewhere private after his shift.

Porsche means to say, "Oh, no, thank you, but I'm not interested."

What Porsche actually says is, "Okay. Do you have a place?" and feels Tem's glare searing into his organs from a distance of 10 meters.

The situation isn't improved when, as he's begging off closing, Yok glowers at him like a disapproving parent and asks, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't know," Porsche says, honest. "I mean—what the hell am I ever doing?"

"Oh my God," Yok mutters. "Just—don't get pregnant."

Porsche doesn't get pregnant, but he does get pushed backward onto the creaky mattress of a dingy little apartment so that King can mouth at his dick until he's all the way hard and roll on a condom. Porsche likes to think he's polite in bed, so he tries to like, help, or whatever, but King seems to take Porsche's attempts to participate as adorable but misguided, even if he does say, "sure, if you want to try," when Porsche asks to help finger him open. It's shockingly different and shockingly the same, dipping his fingers into the hot clutch of someone's body, so weird if you think about it too much, but so immediate and close in the moment. The warm weight of another person, the smell of King's hair, the little huffs and noises he makes—those are all so good—and Porsche likes making people feel good, likes when he does something right and King says, "oh, yes, there, there." It takes him out of his own head and plunges him back into the moment, back into a stranger's apartment and a stranger's bed, back to the moment at hand where King is perched in his lap, notching the head of Porsche's cock into the slick, hot furl of his hole and sliding down, down, down.

It's good, in a way that's nothing like it's been with all the women he's fucked against alley walls, and Porsche feels sparks behind the eyes when King holds him down, takes what he needs. It's rough and a little raw, and King leaves a mean little brand of dull fingernail bruises on Porsche's thigh, from where he leaned back to get the angle how he liked and rode Porsche into the sunset.

"Not bad for your first time," King says after, just wandering around scrubbing between his legs with a towel in a way Porsche is certain no woman would be caught dead doing. "You want anything? Water? I have some watermelon?"

"Uh," Porsche says, still wearing a t-shirt, no pants and the used condom, lying on top of King's sheets like a fucking idiot. "No, I'm good?"

"Great, well, it was great hanging out tonight," King says, all business, hands Porsche his jeans and tosses him out on his freshly fucked ass.

"What the fuck," Porsche hisses, to himself, to the unfeeling universe, into the visor of his motorcycle helmet as he steers himself home, feeling knock-kneed and akimbo, run through with so much weirdness it's like he's 13 all over again.

"Well you can stop worrying, I'm definitely straight," Porsche reports the next day, when Tem traps him in the newly installed walk-in fridge and threatens him with a muddler.

Tem looks like he's in physical pain. "Please explain."

"Well I had actual butt sex with a guy—"

"Holy shit," Tem whispers.

"—and it was, I mean. It was whatever? It was good, I guess?" Porsche says, struggling, because it was good and bad and weird and near what he wanted but so far away he'd been angry showering that night, scrubbing under his pits and around his groin. It's like biting into a strawberry to find it tasteless after he's wondered for decades, saved for years, and now he feels embarrassed and pissed about it, still hungry.

"You guess?" Tem asks, sounding increasingly hysterical.

"It was just okay!" Porsche yells. "Like extremely, totally just okay! Like what is even the big deal if that's all it was? It was fine! He was super pretty and I couldn't even get into it so what's the point?"

Tem puts down the muddler but only so he can cover his face with both hands. It leaves Porsche standing there feeling humiliated and getting colder and colder for a long time before Tem says through his fingers, "Porsche, do you want me to tell you what I think?"

Porsche met Tem back in kindergarten, because when all their classmates had been comparing who had the fewest teeth, he and Tem had tied. When Porsche was too scared to go to the boy's bathroom because Jom started a rumor that it was haunted, Tem had kept watch when Porsche had gone to go take a shit in the bushes behind the gym. Tem helps Porsche sweep up his parents' graves, helps Chay with his homework; he knows where the junk drawer in Porsche's house is, where to find the extra toilet paper, the batteries, all of Porsche's hidden hopes.

Porsche absolutely does not want to know what Tem thinks.

"No, I'm good," Porsche babbles, shoulderchecks Tem out of the way, and flees into the front of house before throwing himself at every ravening group of drunk women available for the rest of the night, terrified Tem's going to reveal some truth of the universe Porsche isn't ready to hear yet.

  The problem—well, one of the problems—is that Porsche still wants to talk about it. It keeps bubbling up under his skin like an itch, always on the tip of his tongue, but Tem's moved on from trying to give him tough love to giving Porsche tender looks, like Porsche has a terminal case of being a fucking moron and only six months to live. So the point is Porsche has this weird impulse, this jitter, and he can't talk to Tem about it, which means he can't talk to Jom about it, because Jom will just text Tem and Tem will come after Porsche like a surface to air missile. There are no circumstances under which Porsche could talk to Chay about it. Porsche briefly hallucinates talking to Kinn about it, the next time Kinn comes to the bar in his tailored trousers to drink too many Old Fashioneds, and it feels like someone threw a molotov cocktail into Porsche's stomach, so that's right out. Anyway, the point is, for lots of reasons, most of them bad, Porsche's go-to friend for questions about gay sex ends up being Big.

"Hey, we're friends," Porsche says. "Can I ask you about doing it with guys?"

"We're not friends," Big says with absolute conviction and a look on his face like he just watched Porsche murder a basket of kittens.

"So like—how did you know?" Porsche goes on, ignoring him. "That you were into dudes?"

Big stares over Porsche's shoulder, at the wall of liquor behind him, and appears to be suffering the worst possible torment and extremis.

"I'm just asking because like, sex feels good in general right?" Porsche barrels on, because Big can't ignore him forever. Kinn had banished him to the bar so that he could have what looks like the most classic I Hate Being Your Older Brother phone call of all time in a booth four feet away, so there's nowhere Big can go and nothing he can do. "Like how do you know if it's good because you're into dudes, or just friction?"

"You're how old?" Big snaps, breaking. "How can you not know this? Also—how do you know I'm even into men?"

"I have eyes," Porsche says. "I use them to watch you staring at Kinn."

"I'm a bodyguard," Big says. "It's literally my job to stare at Khun Kinn."

"You better hang onto that bodyguard job, because you're a shit actor," Porsche says. "Come on, seriously. I need help. Like gay help."

Big turns away from the wall of liquor so that he can stare at Kinn some more. "I wish I could drink on the job," he says, like Porsche is slowly killing him, and then before Porsche can argue his point anymore, Kinn ends his call and ambles back over.

"That was my cue," Kinn says, indicating his phone and glancing at Big.

"I'll call for the car immediately," Big says, and fucking disappears, dust clouds in his wake, as far away from Porsche and his unanswered question as possible, the dick.

Even worse, it leaves Porsche in the harrowing position of being unsupervised and subjected to all of Kinn's concentrated attention: those dark eyes huge and hungry and thoughtful, staring and staring. It makes Porsche's heart hurt; it makes him shy; it makes him duck his head, nervous, and to scrub at the spotless counter with a rag and ask, "Do you have time for one more? For the road?" too softly, too—everything.

"Not tonight," Kinn tells him. His smile looks a little glassy, too brittle and polished and polite; this isn't the Kinn that Porsche likes best, where he's wrinkled and bitchy and rude, entirely present. "But thank you."

"Of course," Porsche says, feeling hot, feeling lost. "Have a good night."

Kinn leaves Porsche a 500% tip. "You too, Porsche."

It's a lot later, and only into the forgiving dark of his bedroom, that Porsche curls up on his side and stares out his window and whispers, "Be safe." Worse than any secret Tem knows, worse than anything Big could say, that he has to grit his teeth against the words every time Kinn walks away is the worst, most exposing truth of all.

Porsche figures that now that he's ticked those two homosexual boxes, he's done with this weird little experiment. This assumption holds true until he finds himself in the alleyway behind Hum Bar again, only this time his knees hurt, bone grinding against the wet cement paving through his polyester work pants as he stares up at some guy who'd followed Porsche out during his break. Kinn's been a no-show at the bar for more than a month: there hasn't been anything in the newspapers, there hasn't been anything in the society pages, there hasn't been anything on the police scanners. Porsche blames this radio silence for the series of poor decisions he makes that night, beginning with taking two fortifying shots three-quarters of the way through his shift, and concluding with getting facefucked less than 10 meters away from a bunch of trash cans.

Long after tonight's random gay interlude disappears, Tem finds Porsche sitting on a stack of palettes in the back, letting his cigarette burn down to the filter.

"What the fuck," Tem says. "What happened to you? Are you okay? Are you crying?"

Porsche scrubs at his face. "No," he lies, because he'd definitely been crying earlier, choking on dick, and his mouth feels bruised, swollen. He's afraid to see what he looks like right now, if he would look as obvious as he feels: used up, if just anybody could see him and know immediately how much he likes how his throat hurts, the way he keeps sweeping his tongue over his teeth, chasing the bitter salt taste of cum in his mouth.

Tem's face goes through all five stages of grief before he swings back to anger, shoves at Porsche until there's enough room on the palette to sit on his right, and steals his cigarette.

#fanfic #kinnporsche #whittled down by another war #wip

45 notes · View notes

cleolinda · 1 year

Text

Sugar, sugar (Pink Sugar, 2004)

(Pink Sugar Amazon store)

Have you ever taken the lid off a sugar bowl and really stuck your nose in there and given it a good huff? There's a texture to the scent that reminds me a little of sand; I couldn't quite explain it in terms of amber, and I still can't here, but I swear to you, it's an ambient dryness that smells distinctly different from the liquid sucrose of a green hunk of sugar cane. And this is different from powdered sugar (even holding a powdered donut to my nose, I don't smell much), which is different from brown sugar (a touch of molasses that actually smells sticky), which is different from marshmallow (fluffy, slightly vanilla), and incredibly different from caramel (cooked sugar, rich, almost buttery) or praline (nutty, possibly creamy) or cotton candy (vanilla + strawberry/raspberry). What I like about a good sugar perfume is the nuance of the type of sugar, the character that is something beyond the literal sweet—and this is itself entirely different from the floral nuances of a honey perfume, which I also love.

Ideally, you'd apply a sugar perfume with a light hand, so that the nuances will blend with the scent of your skin and become A Secret Third Thing. If you're traipsing around smelling like a candy shop, you—well, I won't say you're doing it wrong, but that's not what I'm advocating for here.

Let's rewind a moment to that sugar cane I mentioned. Demeter Fragrance's single note Sugar Cane was the first scent of theirs that I tried, partly because I wanted to know what the hell they'd done to win two FiFi Awards with it. Demeter prides itself as a company on their Proustian sensory experiences (which is why they have scents like Crayon, Dirt, Paperback, and, uh, Fuzzy Balls), but they could not have known that Sugar Cane would take me back specifically to preschool. I have an incredibly vague memory of standing on a (dirt? paved?) road among the other kids on a field trip to a farmer's market, holding a four-inch chunk of freshly-cut sugar cane. I have no idea how we ended up there or if the preschool even got our parents' permission (it was 1983, a lawless time), but I do remember gnawing on this green hunk of cane, and my mom remembers me bringing it home. (She did not seem the least bit bothered that I'd been off who knows where chewing on produce, because it was 1983.) Everything is vague but for the olfactory memory: Demeter's Sugar Cane really, truly has that fresh-cut, not "vegetal" or even "green," exactly, but that ineffable sense of a juicy plant that is not yet dried and crumbled and cubed. It's lovely, and I wore it off and on for years.

Another favorite sugar perfume of mine is Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Sugar Skull ("A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits"), a seasonal offering. As time has gone on, my 2004 bottle has taken on a richer brown-sugar tone, but it actually started out with that whiff of dry sugar bowl. I'm not sure what the fruits are supposed to be, but I might guess plum and strawberry, like the sugar-dusted strawberry candies I used to get in my childhood Christmas stocking. Which means that I might guess something like Furaneol is involved: "Intense caramel and fruity note, reminiscent of cotton candy. Indispensable ingredient for strawberry, pineapple and exotic fruity accords. Often used to bring a jam effect. Naturally found in coffee, malt, grape, guava, pineapple, raspberry, strawberry." I tried Sugar Skull on the other day for this post, and while the fruit accord comes out more distinctly now, the perfume itself is still fairly subtle, a restrained golden sweetness that hangs back rather than yell at top volume.

No, top volume would be Pink Sugar.

In my experience, ethyl maltol (the caramel/praline note you may remember from last week's Mugler Angel) might be strong when it's fresh, but it's Godzilla when it's aged. My bottle of Pink Sugar (maybe 2007?) has also turned from clear to brown, which might be the vanillin. I would be willing to bet there's a strong dollop of furaneol in this thing as well, and the musk isn't helping; all together, I remember being like, "Let's give it a lil spray, see if it's still good," and having to evacuate the room. The powdery candy musk cloud, my GOD. So for this post, I went and ordered a fresh decant (for the princely sum of $0.99 USD), so I could at least see what Pink Sugar's ideal state is, and also I could control it with a tiny wand cap.

A couple of swipes, and this, this is why I liked Pink Sugar back in my twenties. I'll say up front that, these days, the Italian company Aquolina doesn't seem to have much of an internet presence anymore, except for a pinksugar.it site that mostly exists to redirect you to the Pink Sugar Amazon store (and a US Instagram that redirects to Macy's). So I had to dig a little to get the creator(s)' name and the full list of notes: raspberry, orange, fig leaf, bergamot, cotton candy, licorice, red berries, strawberry, lily of the valley, caramel, vanilla, musk, tonka bean, sandalwood.

Secondly, I'll quote two other reviews from people with sharper noses than I have:

Bois de Jasmin:

On a technical level, Pink Sugar is a clever thing, and I find it impressive how its creator, Pierre Nuyens, chose to offset the dessert extravaganza with plenty of sharp citrus, tart berries and crunchy anise seeds. The drydown of musk and sandalwood is like a sprinkling of confectioner’s sugar on warm brioche. Its softness offers a respite after the burnt caramel overload. It’s a long lasting, tenacious fragrance and a little goes a long way.

[I'll note here that I have seen Pink Sugar credited to either Pierre Nuyens or Shyamala Maisondieu of Givaudan, and I don't know what's with the discrepancy. Are we possibly talking about old and new formulations?]

Now Smell This:

Pink Sugar opens on an extraordinarily sweet blend of fruit and caramelized sugar. There is a hint of citrus, but the red berries dominate the first 15 minutes or so. If you love the smell of strawberry candy, the top notes may well be your idea of heaven; I'm afraid it is not mine. [...] There is lots of vanilla sugar, a teensy little whiff of licorice, and a pale, woody-musky base with a hint of powder. It is, as advertised, very reminiscent of cotton candy.

That mention of "offsetting the dessert extravaganza" is similar to the logic that Olivier Cresp and Yves de Chirin used with Angel: it was so unexpected in 1992 to build a fragrance around ethyl maltol that they balanced it with a tornado of patchouli so intense that I can't smell a single other damn thing in it, other than some fruit in the first ten minutes. But by the time Pink Sugar came along in 2004, truly, nobody gave a shit. Trying to balance candy with more candy is, if we are honest, just the slightest gesture towards optimizing your Eau de Toothache (I say this lovingly). There's a reason that Angel is considered a Hall of Famer and Pink Sugar is something people generally scoff at.

So I open my new sample, and I brace myself. The current decant opens with, yes, a pretty strong citrus to immediately counterbalance the sugar. And yet, while I said that Dior's new Joy has a "vanilla lemonade" feel, that's not the kind of sugar + lemon we have going on here. There are several things going on, including some kind of musk, but mostly, my nose can't distinguish what they are; "it's very well-blended" is what you say when you can't figure that out. I'll also say that I couldn't perceive strawberry, or even strawberry candy (no matter how much I love it), in all this; what I get is Cotton Candy™. I remember how surprised I was to find out that the traditional flavor of American cotton candy is just vanilla, often with some strawberry if it's pink, and definitely with raspberry if it's blue. Cotton candy is just A Thing Unto Itself to me (ask me how shocked I was to find out that yellow cake mix is just vanilla. Mm, tastes like yellow), and that's mostly what I smell in Pink Sugar. A specific whiff of caramel emerged about two hours in, but that was the best my nose could do.

Four hours in, as I sat drafting this post with Pink Sugar on the back of my hand, the citrus notes had evaporated, and I was getting just that cotton candy—but dry and fluffy, on a floating bed of musk, not a sticky, just-melted-in-your-mouth, washed-by-a-confused-raccoon note. So the first hour is when Pink Sugar is most interesting to me. And I'm gonna tell you—I can't distinguish fig leaf or lily of the valley or even sandalwood in this thing, but I get something in that first hour that I haven't seen anyone else mention: something shadowy.

There's something sultry about Pink Sugar early on to me, and that may be the combination of licorice and musk, going by the notes listed. (You'd think I could pick out licorice after two posts about it, but not specifically in Pink Sugar, no.) You're at the cotton candy stand, sure, but there are dark clouds gathering overhead. For some reason, Johnny Jewel's "Windswept" popped into my head—something noirishly forlorn. The fairground is closing at the end of summer, the boardwalks are empty; up in the late afternoon sky, something watchful and gray is rolling in.

And this stage does pass. But that first hour, that's the interesting stage, the part where I get why "counterbalancing the toothache" is such an important consideration. I also have Demeter Fragrance's Cotton Candy single note (does what it says on the tin), and sometimes a simple sugar is what you want. But if someone could actually cook up Film Noir Cotton Candy Stand, combining two things you would pretty much never think to put together, you would have a story on your hands. Pink Sugar has that for about an hour—except for the fact that I think I must be hallucinating it, because I've never seen a review where anyone ever accused Pink Sugar of having one iota of depth to it, much less darkness.

That's the thing about fragrance: it's so wholly dependent on what your own nose can pick up and how it interacts with your own chemistry, as opposed to anyone else's. I could hold out my hand thirty minutes in and say "SMELL IT. SMELL THE FILM NOIR," as you do, and it might be that no one else would smell anything "sultry" or "gray" or "forlorn" in Pink Sugar at all. You ever have that Super Deep Thought that maybe nobody sees color the same way, and maybe what's orange to you is blue to someone else? With fragrance, that might be a little bit true.

The other thing I've realized is that most people smell a perfume on you after you've been wearing it a while—people at work or a party or wherever you actually left the house to go, they'd mostly smell the base notes and maybe a few mid notes of your fragrance by the time you got there. (Unless you're reapplying it frequently. I... do not advocate for that.) Everything I find interesting about Pink Sugar would have faded by the time anyone smelled it on me, leaving just a vague aura of musky sweet. I'd actually love to smell a fragrance made of all the notes that aren't cotton candy: Pink Sugar Without Sugar.

I'll end by pointing out that I started with a nostalgic story about preschool and sugar—and a different fragrance. Most people reviewing Pink Sugar mention nostalgia as part of its appeal, but it doesn't evoke memory for me at all, and I think that's because the musk is so strongly present for me all the way through. I will argue, though, that the Secret Third Thing it comes up with is more sophisticated than people give it credit for.

Perfume discussion masterpost

#perfume #perfume discussion #long post #perfume: aquolina #note: sugar #note: musk #note: licorice #note: strawberry #note: ethyl maltol #perfume: demeter fragrance #perfume: bpal

39 notes · View notes

choccy-zefirka · 1 month

Note

So what's in the file named "The walls wobbl"?

let's learn together! :D

Haha, it's an old-ish fic where Una Cadash is not having a great time in the Dark Future! Serendipitously, I have been meaning to make a minor edit in it bc I wanted to age up Una's kid (who still doesn't have a set name or appearance ooopsie) in case I want to make him into a Rook :3

I will copy-paste it here, but it's just shy of 3K words! TW for the stuff you'd expect in the Dark Future, plus mentions of childbirth and subsequent abandonment of said child (don't worry though, he'll be fine... At least until he becomes Rook, at which point it's out of my hands)

The walls wobble, closing in.

Maybe they really do that. This bloody castle is being held together by spit and red lyrium chunks, and every moment, another bit of it breaks away and floats into the hissing, biting green sky-acid outside.

Or maybe Una is just imagining things. Ever since her little stint in a Chantry cellar eleven years ago — twelve, now; do not think about the kid, about how he would be twelve years old in this twisted future, about how he may have died, when the world drowned in the Breach; do fucking not — she has not been a big fan of walls.

Whatever. It doesn't matter what the walls are actually doing.

All she knows is that inside her pulsing, shrieking, aching head, they shift inch by inch. Bleary-green, with a jagged row of bloodied crystal teeth here and there. Pressing at her. Ready to devour.

Her throat contracts. She feels like all skin on her face and throat has melted away, leaving behind just a thin, slippery, fucking gross film of sweat. She closes her fists with a silent ferocity, until her axe's shaft nearly shatters to splinters.

Focus, Una, focus.

You've seen so much fucked-up shit in these crumbling, dark corridors, and you decide to be scared by the walls? There are people on either side of you who are scarcely even people any more.

Look at them. Shadows in prison rags, with all these crystal shards packed tight under their ruptured, rotting flesh. Still rying to speak with the broken voices of Madame Vivienne and the Lady Seeker. Two fucking strongest women in the Inquisition, reduced to this.

Una glances at either in turn; her jaw tightens, her jowls roll, and she curses the hot tingly feeling in her eyes. Blinking it off, as best she can, she goes back to staring at the third woman ahead of her. The woman who sent her into this blasted stupor in the first place.

She was the Nightingale, once. The Inquisition's spy master. Sod it, Una feels so guilty now for saying that shit to her. Back when the sky was blue, and the ground stayed in place, and there was snow — falling in large flakes and brushing, feather-soft, against the Nightingale's flushed, frost-nipped face when she knelt in her open tent and prayed for her lost Divine.

"Bad things happen. Get used to it," Una told her. Repeating the lesson beaten into her from a very young age — because she knew no other.

Fuck, she had no idea how many more bad things would follow.

At this point, these bad things have kept happening for a whole bloody year, which Una missed — but the Nightingale lived, same as the Madame Enchanter and the Seeker.

These bad things have sucked the color from her cheeks, and sucked the skin dry too. It's all gray now; thin wiry strands of brittle tissue, caked together into a warped mask. Her eyes are vaguely the same still: blue lights burning from the bruised dark pits of her skull. But that wistful sadness, which Una recalls from that snowy day, is all gone. The Nightingale's gaze is sharp now, cutting as a spike of primal lyrium — as the edge of steel, which she presses into the throat of another... creature she has in a stranglehold.

It... He used to be such a good kid. Una could tell, right after getting to know him.

Shit, she saw him last so recently. Couple hours ago, for herself. And for the kid's friend with the 'stache, whom she can hear breathing behind her, in uneven, nearly squeaky gasps, making something in her gut clench sickeningly in return.

And months and months ago for everyone else.

His skin is dry and decaying now, same as his captor's. They share a sickness. So it's written down in the papers they found, scattered around this wretched castle: pale-white sheets like water lilies in the green mire.

Stache told Una what the writing said: she cannot read all that well yet, though a little Chantry sister has been teaching her... was teaching her, a year ago. She is probably dead now, flayed by the fucking cultists into a twitching bloody pulp for refusing to worship their Elder One.

Yeah. Whatever. Una's been thinking too much about who died in here, and when and how.

The papers — experiment reports by the cultists, acting on the orders of that vint in the stupid hood — mentioned that the Nightingale's blood is the only reason the kid is still alive. But while the Nightingale's eyes burn, clear-blue and fierce and angry, his are milky-white. Round and vacant.

A newborn kitten has more sense in its half-blind stare than he does. Not that... not that Una is the type to cuddle kittens. She is not the type to do anything but fight and curse.

All he can do is whimper softly, limp and meek in the cage of the Nightingale's arms. A quick slash across his sagging, blotchy throat would put him out of his misery. But — oh fuck, his father, the old vint in the stupid hood, is still reaching out to the Nightingale. Still pleading, even as she tilts her dagger just so. Ready to strike.

"Please! Please, I will do anything! Just — just give me my boy back!"

That's all the vint has been doing, all this time. Not cackling and plotting, like the other cultists. Just... Just trying to get his boy back. And fucking up worse and worse along the way. Because he just will not — cannot let go.

Una squirms, drenched in her own sweat.

She — she knew her own son for a grand total of twenty minutes, probably. She has more vivid memories of that fucking pain, in there, in the dark, with the walls threatening to crush her (because of course, she had to go into labor right after those bitchy humans in white locked her up in their Chantry's cellar, on suspicion of theft), than she has memories of holding her babe. And it still hurt to let him go. Even despite knowing that he was going to be raised by sweet, caring surfacer dwarves — totally respectable, hard-working women, with a nice little house, bathing in foamy pink flowers. And with not a blemish of suspicion, not a hint of thieving history to turn them into targets for humans.

It still hurt. After twenty minutes, it still hurt. She cannot imagine how much worse it must be after twenty-something years.

All she knows is... There have been other pages, among those metaphorical water lilies — Metaphorical... that's the sort of word a rich, cultured dwarf like Varric would use. But Una is not Varric, and never will be anything like him. She does not even know why she came up with this fucking comparison in the first place.

Well. Whatever. There have been pages that Stache refused to read out loud to Una. The scribblings on them differed from the cultists' notes — they'd been scattered all over the sheet in a shaky, hurried hand, and were peppered with round, grayish blots. Like someone had been crying.

Tears, shed by anyone who's not a newborn babe (and by many babes too, probably), are a con. Meant to squeeze pity out of people. To twist their minds like a towel, just the way the tear-shedder wants. So Una's been taught. First by her mother, whom she tried to con, time and again, without even realizing. Then, by her trainers in the Carta.

She's learned her lesson, bruise by bruise. She repeats it to herself and others every chance she gets... But she still fucking falls for the con.

She falls for the traces of tears she spotted on those stupid loose pages, next to the only words she managed to make out without Stache's help (before he snatched the paper away altogether, nostrils wide). "Nothing works".

And for the wet glint that is filling the vint's eyes right now, as he lowers himself slowly before the Nightingale. On his knees. Breathless. Shaky. Haggard, with bruised undereye circles almost as bad as on the barely-human faces of Una's companions. And terribly small against the bleeding green walls behind him. Which keep closing in.

At least the Nightingale knows what's what. As the vint begs, she does not falter. Her grip is firm; her death mask of a face, frozen and cast in shadow.

She will do it, even if Una — completely bamboozled by tears, again — orders her to stand down. She will kill the kid. And maybe — maybe the agony that the vint feels in that moment, when all his hopes wrestle his son from death come splashing back in his face, in a jet of slimy, corrupted blood, will make for nice payback. In return for all the suffering in this insane world that he created, when he decided to join a cult and fuck around with time.

That's the least of what he deserves. No amount of tears is going to change that. She mustn't feel sorry for him. She mustn't.

His kid is better off dead now; just as hers was better off far, far away from her. Let the Nightingale do what's right!

The knot in Una's stomach winds ever tighter. Her palms begun to burn — from chafing, all sweaty and slippery, against the axe shaft. That's what she assumes anyway.

In a fraction of a second, the burning sensation soars to splitting, blistering agony... And across the room from her, the Nightingale staggers.

The dagger flares a fiery orange in her withered hand. It eats her flesh up with a crackle, as though her fingers were spun out of wicker rods. She spreads them out, flapping her hand in confusion. And the dagger rattles to the ground.

The kid gawks around with his milky eyes; then, drops on all fours and skitters into the comfort of the shadows.

Una cannot help but exhale. Neither can the vint.

The sound, quaky and strangled, makes the Nightingale snarl. In a broad stride, she sweeps over to the kneeling vint, and aims a kick in his stomach.

"You did this!" she spits, in between muffled thuds.

Out the corner of her eye, Una sees Stache shudder head to toe. His knuckles turn pale over his mage staff, but he does not intervene. Not yet.

"After subjecting us to... to this!" the Nightingale gestures furiously as the heaving walls, while her boot continues its pounding — the same boot that pressed against another vint's throat as she crushed his windpipe. Sod it, she is fierce. Not... pleasant to watch, not like when she strangled the other guy. But still fierce.

"You still toy with us! Still torment us! For the sake of that blighted monster!"

"That's... my son!" the vint spits, before his voice mangles into a wet gargle. "I... I saved him!"

"You saved nothing! Not a year ago, not just now! Do you really think you can stop me from picking up my bow and shooting that thing where it hides?"

"Will you kindly — " Stache squawks.

The Nightingale whips her head upward, glaring at him. He glares back, a vein bulging across the sliver of skin visible through his robe's open collar. For a moment, the kicks stop. It even seems to Una that the Nightingale's eyes mellow, returning to that sad, snowy softness. But it is just a trick of the light. There will be no returning to that Nightingale unless Una and Stache turn back time.

"Please... This is not what I meant..." the vint wheezes, doubled over now, with his gauntlet spikes scraping at the floor. "I don't know what happened to your dagger... I did not cast that magic..."

"Neither did I, in case you are wondering," Stache cuts in again, now with a bit more composure. "And I do think we can all stop being violent towards each other for a moment, so I can have the amulet and reverse this bloody spell!"

"I... I will help you... I did not intend for any of this to happen. I just wanted — just wanted to fix my mistakes."

With a stiff, jittery hand, the vint rummages in his stupid, over-layered, dragon-embroidered robes — grimy and shabby now, full of fraying holes, like a dead thing munched on by maggots — and tosses a small, shiny green cube at Stache's feet. Or, well, not tosses it — more like, lets it roll out of his loosened grasp.

There it is. The thing that leaked ghostly green goop all over the Redcliffe throne room — a whole vertical pool of it, which sucked in Una and Stache, and brought them here. The vint really is giving it up, just like that. The Nightingale must have beaten the last fight out of him... Or maybe — maybe his tears were not a con?

A stupid thought. Whatever.

Stache scoops the amulet into his grasp... Then, looks up at the Nightingale and the others, searching their deathly-gaunt faces, with a frown on his own.

When none of them move, he reaches with his free hand to help the old vint up.

"Dorian," the vint mouths. "I — Let me use it with you; I could..."

Stache looks away.

"I don't think so. You've had your playtime. I will figure the magic out on my own. You can go and stand guard, in case your little friends decide to check on you. I will need about an hour or so —"

A massive rumble dances across the walls. They shake for real this time, dust and plaster oozing off them in powdery rivulets. Something shrieks, out of many inhuman throats. Lined with teeth all the way down; gawping and hungry.

"You do not have an hour," says the Nightingale, before rolling her shoulders and walking towards the door. The shrieks grow louder.

"You only have as much time as I have arrows."

The vint, who has still been leaning crookedly against Stache, straightens up and follows the Nightingale on waddling, unsteady legs. A spark of magic threshes against his fingers, like a trapped firefly.

The Seeker and the Enchater both spring alert, ready to bare their weapons — or use the shard red crust of their arms, when push comes to shove — and give the vint a new beating.

But he does not aim the spell at any of them. He, like the Nightingale, like the other two, who also approach the door, prepares to face whatever lurks, and claws, and drools out there. Beyond the trap of the walls.

"I twisted time out of joint," he says over his shoulder. His voice is oddly calm now; his face would have seemed nearly peaceful, if it were not for the dark bruises and the traces of tears: fine pale lines in the grime.

"Might as well win some of it back for you. Take care of Felix when you return."

Stache gives him a curt nod and sets to work on unraveling the magic of the little cube, thread by shimmery thread.

The Nightingale, awash with the same eerie peace, notches an arrow and begins to recite some verse from the Chant. Or a prayer, maybe?

"Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame," she says; and the Seeker and the Enchanter raise their heads up high in her wake.

Beautiful stuff, that... Even though humans told Una in the past that it was not meant for the likes of her. That all the likes of her could get would be a lock on the cellar hatch, and walls closing in from all sides. When all she did was hide out in their stupid Chantry, because people were chasing her and she had a babe on the way.

"Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side."

To the rhythm of the verse, the old vint is the first to fall. Long, green, spindly arms, with claws the length of Una's entire torso, push through a crack in the door. Like meat hooks, the claws dig into the old vint's throat; he grabs back at those monstrous limbs, releasing a zigzagging shock charge and charging them to a crisp. The last thing he does, bleeding in streams out the undulating (Sod it, what a word; a Varric word), gill-like gashes in his neck, is throw the twinkly blue-green net of a barrier over the Seeker and the Enchanter. Something to protect them as they hack and burn the next demon, and the next... Before the door swings wider, and they fall as well.

Once more, a burst of invisible fire eats into Una's eyeballs: they feel like they shatter into tiny crystals of salt. She grinds her teeth, angry and confused, and curses again. There's nothing but the demons and the dead in here — whom is she conning?

She guesses it must be the pain from the blisters on her hand.

#dragon age #dai #inquisitor cadash #gereon alexius #original things

3 notes · View notes

rawrmeansilyindinosawr · 1 year

Text

we ate chuletas on the floor of ur apartment when it still smelled like paint

and the first nite we spent there we slept with the mattress upside down. the movers installed it all wrong and it hurt our back so much n we both tossed and turned til we figured out why. ur windows faced the street and that made it hard to sleep. youd use a wooden stick to lock your window before we went out. it was a fixer upper, that apartment. someone had just died in there a month before you moved in and we joked we’d have to sage the place and hire a shaman. that week, we polished the bathtub together. it would take two days to dry. And when it finally did u ran us a bath ,measuring the water level so perfectly to accommodate our body weight. in the tub , we always sat across from one another and talked about what we ate that day or i sat in front of u in silence, against ur chest, soundly in ur arms. when u got that apt i called you crying one morning cuz i felt so alone, i was used to u being in mine and you came the same night to cook me 'reassurance rice'; arroz con gandules (rice with pigeon peas). those were the nights that u stayed up crying on ketamine cuz you told me you were afraid of getting alzheimers and forgetting about me. those were the nights that we would sit in my room and eat chicken wings and i'd save you all the drumsticks. those were the nights we dreamed about california together, the pacific coast highway, how youd teach me how to drive stick shift.

when you got that apartment , you packed your things within the timeframe that i was able to finish drinking an iced milk tea. you threw your clothes out of the third story window from that stupid shelter. the first time i snuck in there with you we ordered crab burgers and coca cola and you fingered me with one hand and covered my mouth with the other. you didn’t have a door, or a curtain. we shared a twin sized mattress and every time i went into the bathroom you had to follow me in case anyone caught me there with you. in the morning i ran out of the stairwell,dodging cameras, past security, towards the train station. you told me that you never thought i'd do that with you. but i liked challenging your beliefs of my boundaries. i let you take them all. and that was our love. all consuming. wrote you a poem about how i wanted you more like an enemy cuz i wanted u closer than just friends. u didn’t get it. but u liked to find the deeper meanings in my irony and i liked that you took all the time to decipher me. <we took molly on our first anniversary. we were at a concert and couldn’t keep our hands off of each other so we only stayed for only one song . you bought me a tripp skirt. i tried it on for you and twirled around for you in it. you cut it 3 inches shorter just so you could see my legs better.> one morning in may U brushed the knots out of my hair before i had to go to work and told me u were shocked i didn’t know what was going on back there. those may days were days that id sing to you love songs like bon iver's blood bank.

U apologized for ur many moods, u said it was the full moon. made u a zine called “loving a trans boy” after the first time u asked me to inject ur T shots for you. u told me no one loved you the way i loved u. At the end of june, u told me to leave u alone , to never ever talk to u. when the night prior to that we were trading hits off of a pipe, ur room smelled like filthy grime. it was all yellow. it was all yellow and we were so high. taking turns with our heads in between each others legs, we never made it to the bed. we told each other that we'd inject heroine into each others veins n we kept repeating that we loved each other over and over and over again like it was going to be the last time we were going to be together again or ever see the sun and maybe just maybe the world could collapse any second and just be done so we had to say it. and i promised you that i would be happy for you to be the last person i would ever say i love you too and you said that you've heard all of those things before, that u used to think like that too . but it just wouldnt b true.

i wish someone would have told me that letting go isn't just a one time thing. i wish someone would have told me that letting go isn't just demographically 7-8 times. i wish someone would have told me it actually is a thousand times. because i choose to let you go when i brush past your favorite food in the grocery store and decide not to pick it up. i let you go when i decide to still make my own cup of coffee in the morning, hazelnut creamer and whipped cream. i let you go when i decide that the 4th time will be the last time that i take your clothes to buffalo exchange. i let you go when i walk down the street near your job and decide to take a different route. i let you go when i decide to fuck someone new. i let you go when i decide to take your side of the bed. i let you go when i decide to stop hating the extra space. i let you go when i decide to take up all the extra space. i let you go when i stop asking why. i let you go when i acknowledge i still miss you but i decide no i dont want u back. i let you go when i decide to let you become a memory. like how we ate chuletas on the floor of ur apartment when it still smelled like paint. and how the first night we spent there we slept with the mattress upside down and it was so hard to sleep, and how ur bathtub wasn’t polished yet and how itd take two days……

#mine #personal #writing

0 notes

musingsofadragon · 1 year

Photo

(via Cuban-ish Chicken Soup)

So, I call my chicken soup Cuban-ish because although the core of my ingredients derive from my Cuban heritage, I’ve made so many modifications I doubt my mother would recognize it as having been derived from her recipe once upon a time.

First, I roast a chicken to make the stock. (You can, of course, just use a premade rotisserrie chicken.) When it’s cool, I pull all the meat I can off the bone, making sure to leave behind all the gristle, bone, and skin. I place it in a zip lock or other food storage container in the fridge until I’m ready to make my soup.

Second, I make the stock. You can put pretty much anything you like in a stock. It took me a long time to accept this but it’s true.

There are some base ingredients I always use:

2 onions,

3-5 garlic cloves,

2 celery stalks,

3-5 bird’s eye peppers (use only if you like heat),

2 carrots, roughly 1 tsp whole peppercorns,

2 bay leaves, and

1 tbsp white-wine (or apple cider) vinegar. (The vinegar is the only essential ingredient since it draws out the nutrients and minerals from the bones into the stock.)

If I have parsley or thyme I’ll toss them in as well as any other herb I may have getting past it’s prime in my fridge at the time. Roughly chopped is fine for your ingredients, no need to peel etc. (some say you don’t even need to peel, but I feel like it releases the flavor better).

Place the chicken remnants (bone, skin, and gristle) and all your ingredients in a large stock pot with 6 quarts of water and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer. Let simmer, covered, for at least 4 hours (if you have the time you can do 6 hours). Then strain through a sieve and discard everything but your stock.

Note: Of course, you can skip both these steps and use a rotiserrie chicken and store bought stock (I recommend unsalted). I’ve done it and it’s certainly much faster but it’s NEVER as good.

Third, while the stock simmers I prepare my soup ingridients:

1/2 Calabaza (winter suash) peeled & cut into large chunks

1 large boniato (no real English equivalent but white sweet potato comes closest), peeled and cut into small chunks

2-4 carrots, peeled and cut into 2 inch chunks

2 ears of corn, shucked and cut in half

2-4 oz Diana brand Fideos Finos (any angel hair pasta will do). Quantity is dependent on whether you like thicker soups (like me) or brothier versions.

Finally, when my stock is ready, I toss my ingredients in (except fideos/pasta), don’t forget the chicken!, and salt to taste. I let simmer/low boil for 20-30 minutes (until boniato and carrots can be pierced easily with fork) and then add fideos/pasta and cook for another 10 minutes. Voila!

Yes, it takes all day, but I promise you the taste is worth it!

#cooking #chicken soup #food #cuban chicken soup

1 note · View note

gustavojshafer · 2 years

Text

Is it OK to Cut Tree Roots That Are Above Ground?

If you’re considering cutting a tree’s root, you must know the safety issues involved. Cutting tree roots is best done when they’re small, since larger roots are likely to damage the tree. Small roots, on the other hand, can be easily removed without any serious problems.

How to Safely Cut Tree Roots

Whether your roots are in the ground or above, you need to follow certain safety guidelines when cutting tree roots. While you don’t want to kill the tree, cutting them is a necessary step when the tree’s health is at risk. Experts recommend that you cut tree roots only when you’re facing a serious problem.

When cutting tree roots, you should never cut more than one third of their length. To determine the appropriate distance, multiply the diameter of the tree by three. This will give you the maximum distance from the trunk to the root. Also, never cut more than 25% of the root from one side. Before cutting the root, you should create a barrier around the area where you intend to cut it. This barrier should be at least 12 inches high and 10 inches long to protect the tree.

You must also stay away from the trunk of the tree. When pruning a tree, keep the distance from the trunk at least 36 inches. The tree’s trunk diameter should not be more than six inches.

If I Cut A Root Will The Tree Die?

There are several factors to consider before cutting tree roots. Some of these factors are the size of the roots, where they are located, and what kind of damage cutting them will cause. Cutting large roots can damage the tree, making it unstable and difficult for it to absorb nutrients. This can result in the tree’s eventual death.

If you are pruning tree roots, be sure to follow these guidelines: prune only the roots that are more than two inches in diameter and leave 20 percent of the above-ground roots intact. You also need to water the area, and mulch the area with a 2 to 3 inch layer of mulch. Make sure you follow these guidelines when pruning tree roots, as improper pruning can seriously compromise the health of your tree.

If you are cutting the roots that are above ground, you must remember that the older the tree, the more vulnerable it is to damage. It is important to prune the roots at least 18 feet away from the tree’s trunk, but not more. Cutting the roots too close to the tree’s trunk can cause serious injury and possibly death. In addition, if you do cut the roots of the tree, you should wait at least two years before pruning again.

What’s the best time of year to cut tree roots?

Cutting tree roots that are above ground may be a good idea, but it is important to follow certain guidelines. First, never cut more than 25 percent of the root system at once. Secondly, make sure that the cut roots are about 18 feet away from the trunk. Lastly, it is best to consult a tree expert before cutting tree roots.

There are many reasons why tree roots can become exposed. One of the biggest reasons is erosion of the soil. The exposed roots are often due to rain that has compacted the soil and washed away the soil around the roots. Another cause is wind. If the wind is blowing heavily enough, it can scout away the soil around tree roots, causing them to be exposed.

The roots of the tree are important for the health of the tree. If they are exposed, they can be hazardous and easily damaged. In addition, exposed roots are an easy access point for insects and diseases. The roots can also ruin lawn equipment.

How Many Tree Roots Can I Cut?

If you want to cut off a tree’s roots, you must know how much of the root system can be safely removed. You can do this by measuring the trunk’s diameter and multiplying it by eight. If you cut too close to the trunk, it could result in irreversible damage. Also, it is important to mark the area where you are going to cut the roots. You can use colored chalk or spray paint to mark the area before cutting.

A general rule of thumb for cutting tree roots is that you must not cut more than 25% of the root system. You can easily estimate the number of roots by measuring the diameter of the trunk four feet above ground level. Once you know the size of the trunk, you can mark the area of where you will cut the 25% of the tree roots.

The best time to cut tree roots is late winter or early spring. This will help minimize the risk of dehydration in the tree. It is also wise to cover the cut root immediately afterward to keep it moist. Moreover, it is not advisable to prune tree roots after bud break in the spring because it will rob the tree of water and nutrients.

How Can I Cut Tree Roots Without Killing The Tree?

It’s important to know how to cut tree roots without killing the tree, especially if you want to try a new landscaping idea. Roots can clog pipes, lift a sidewalk, or otherwise cause damage. In these situations, you can use a pick or shovel to cut off the roots without killing the tree. If you don’t want to cut down the tree, you can also apply tree killer to the roots before cutting them off.

When pruning tree roots, be sure to cut the roots as small as possible, but not too small. Using too much force may kill the tree, and cutting off the roots can also cause other problems. If you cut the roots too closely to the trunk, you’ll also disrupt the structure of the tree, which could cause the trunk to break or fall over during high winds.

The best time to cut tree roots without killing the tree is during early spring or late winter. During this time, the tree’s activity is low, so the chances of damaging the tree are very slim. However, if the roots are larger, they can cause instability or make the tree unable to absorb essential nutrients.

How Do I Prune Tree Roots Without Damaging the Tree

Tree roots are important to the health and growth of a tree. Pruning them can prevent problems later, including damage to the tree and even death. Experts recommend cutting the roots only when they pose a real threat to the health of the tree. They also recommend pruning the roots during early spring or late winter, when the tree is at its least active and damage is minimal.

Before pruning tree roots, you need to know how large they are. To determine the size, measure the diameter of the trunk of the tree and multiply it by 8. Do not cut roots that are closer than 8 inches to the tree trunk. To prevent cutting the wrong part of the roots, mark the area with a piece of chalk or spray paint.

Never cut the entire root mass at once. Instead, prune in quadrants. Cut two quadrants at a time and wait two years before pruning the remaining quadrants. Cut large roots only if they are causing a problem to the tree, or if they are causing the tree to lean. Otherwise, you could damage the tree and ruin its chances of survival.

For DIY Root Cutting Use This Step-By-Step

Before you cut a tree root, you should know its size. To determine this, measure the diameter of the tree trunk. Then, multiply the measurement by eight. You do not want to cut too close to the trunk or risk causing damage that cannot be reversed. Once you know the size, mark the area with spray paint or colored chalk.

Conclusion

Surface roots are common, but they are not always a sign of health problems. When these roots are cut or broken, they can cause major damage to your tree. Therefore, you must be very careful when doing any tree work. Surface roots are easy to cut or break and can cause major problems.

source https://sunshinecoasttreeloppers.com.au/is-it-ok-to-cut-tree-roots-that-are-above-ground/ source https://sunshinecoasttreeloppers.tumblr.com/post/696437742362558464

0 notes

svftvluv · 3 years

Note

Can you do a jealous vinnie hacker smut please

Shouldn’t Care

Pairings: Vinnie Hacker x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Vinnie grows jealous of Y/N’s new relationship and wastes no time in making her remember him.

Warnings; jealous!vinnie, smut 18+, bit angsty, unprotected sex, choking kink, hair pulling, praise kink, breeding kink

Author’s Note: i wanted to try a new approach to jealous!vinnie and tried out third person pov. I had a different ending but i plan on inputting that into another request :) Enjoy!

She looked beautiful as if it were like the first day he laid his eyes on her. All he wanted was to go up to her and wrap his arms around her, like he had once a lifetime ago. He smiled at his own thought, but soon dropped it when he came and hugged her. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled in for a kiss in which she accepted. He cringed at the sight. He wanted to receive the same treatment she gave to her new lover, Lando. He wanted it to be him again. He grew jealous of how she was living the life and he was miserable. Not only that but at the fact that Lando now touched, kissed, made love to her like he used to.

The minute Lando left her unattended Vinnie wasted no time in approaching her. He played it off as an “I didn't know you were here.” statement. The tension between him and her was tense. God, all he wanted was to pull her into a kiss. It has been so long since he had been so close to her. All it took was for her to bite her lip out of awkwardness and he lost it. In the blink of an eye his lips were on hers. She enjoyed it. She truly did, but pushed him back. “You have no right- '' She cut off when his lips connected with hers again. Even after months of not being together they both were still in sync. She knew this was wrong. Her loving boyfriend was somewhere around the party getting drinks and here she was making out with her ex. What a good girlfriend she was, huh.

He pushed them both into a small, secluded bathroom. His lips never leave hers. His hands couldn’t seem to leave her body, he carresseed every inch of her. He sat her on the counter and kissed her neck. “Don’t leave hickies please.” She pleaded. He ignored her comment and instead sucked on her sweet spot. She squirmed out of pleasure and annoyance in an attempt to stop him. Being annoyed with her, he pulled her hair back earning a whine. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. I’ll mark you if I want to. Got that?” She lightly nodded.

“Tell me you dont want this.” he waited for her response yet not a peep came out. He smirked knowing he had her. There was no need for foreplay as she was already so wet. Hell, she had been dripping ever since the first kiss in the hall. He got himself situated and aligned himself with her entrance. He slipped the tip past her folds already making let out a faint gasp. He gripped her thighs making sure she wouldn't squirm. He caught her by surprise when he fully inserted himself. They both moaned out in ecstasy. His thrusts started off slow and gradually increased.

“Still my good girl, aren’t you?” His eyes felt like they were burning into her skin awaiting her answer. An answer he desperately needed. She debated if she should. After all she was Lando’s girl not Vinnie’s. But her mind was too clouded right now. “S-still you’re good girl.” She slurred. His lips crashed into hers roughly, taking advantage of her lips as it may be the last he kisses them. “Every time he fucks you you’ll think of me, got that? He’s nothing compared to me.” And she agreed with him. She felt like shit agreeing but he was right. Nobody compared to Vinnie. She frantically nodded as he wrapped both his hands around her neck. The pleasure was unbearable. She forgot how much her body loved the effect that Vinnie had on her. She craved it. She needed it.

He was hitting every possible place that he could and that drove her crazy. He, himself, was mesmerized. She always took him in beautifully. No one woman could ever compare to her. For a split second he thought abut how every night it was her lover who got to do this. That was all it took to set him off. The jealously still overtaking him. The more he thought about it the rougher he got. Her moans got higher and her orgasm got closer. “Pove to me you’re still mine and cum on my cock.” She held onto his arms as your orgasm came upon you. “V-vinnie!” She moaned out loudly. If it weren’t for the music blasting everyone would’ve heard. He gripped her hips making himself go deeper. Her eyes rolled back as she came undone.

“So beautiful, my beautiful girl.” He meant those with such emotion he couldn’t describe it. But she ignored his comment. He noticed but had to brush it off. He soon came after coating her insides. He could tell she was guilty for what they had done and he wished she didn’t feel that way. She hurriedly put her clothes back as if it would help at all. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye. She knew it wasn’t worth it. He grabbed her arm and laid one last kiss on her lips and let her go.

#vinnie hacker #vinnie #vhackerr #vinnie hacker smut #tiktok boy #smut #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie imagines #hype house #vinnie hacker one shot #vinnie hacker x fem!reader #vinnie hacker x y/n #vinnie smut

792 notes · View notes

quietlyimplode · 2 years

Note

Do u think you could write something with Clint and Natasha using one of the two (very similar) dialogue prompts?

“Do you trust me?”

“Only you.”

“You would trust the word of a spy?”

“Only this one.”

Hey Anon! Thank you for the prompt, it took me a little while to think of this one, so I hope it sort of meets expectations.

(Bwf2022, 1k, warnings for a fight I guess, probably others - if you want this to hurt a bit more may I suggest the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.)

Run Boy Run (this world is not meant for you)

Dear Clint.

The paper sits inert underneath her pen, and she wonders just how to put this in words.

‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t cut it.

‘I didn’t mean it’ seems stupid.

Because she’s not sorry, and she does mean it, and she promised she’d never lie.

She scrunches the paper and starts again.

Clint.

Do you trust me?

I hope you do, because if you do then you know what I’m doing is necessary.

Needed.

Do you trust the word of a spy?

Can you?

If the tables were turned, I’m not sure I could.

But it’s you.

I’m sorry this can’t be a conversation.

Know that this needs to be like this, needs to be covert and only me.

I’m not betraying you.

Trust me.

She signs off, folds the paper into a paper crane and puts it in his jacket pocket.

The sleeping pill she put in his food should make it so that he doesn’t wake up for another twelve hours, and she hopes there’s no side effects.

It feels wrong.

The black widow indeed.

At least she hadn’t killed him, only sent him into a deep sleep.

Natasha knows he won’t find her, not in Moscow.

She just needs to find Yelena.

If she pretends to be still operational for the KGB she may still have a chance.

The blonde assassin their mark had said, and she knew, it could only be her sister.

She kisses Clint’s temple, whispers she’s sorry, grabs her bag and leaves.

“Yelena,” Natasha shouts, gun drawn as her sister shoots at her.

There’s no reaction.

She whistles loud and the gunfire stops.

A ceasefire.

Wild eyes look over to her as she offers her arms in surrender.

“It’s me, little sister,” she says in Russian.

“Come with me.”

The first shot goes wide but the second hits her in the chest, the third glides by her side slicing across her clothing.

“TRAITOR,” the blonde, brainwashed spy yells, as she sprints towards Natasha.

“You betrayed all of us,” she hisses.

This is not her sister.

She can tell that she’s under some sort of control, her eyes don’t focus and her body moves predictably and mechanically.

A knife comes from nowhere, and Natasha feels it held to her throat, pushing in, pushing hard.

She can feel where the bullet is embedded in her vest, where it’s burrowed in and met resistance against her chest.

She can’t breathe.

Her side is dripping blood and the knife is all she can focus on.

“No,” comes a squeaking.

Yelena is fighting the programming.

The knife comes away, wild eyes meet hers.

“Run,” Yelena whispers.

“They’re coming. They’ll take you too.”

Fear pulses through Natasha as she sees the light fade from Yelena’s eyes.

She’s gone again, and the knife reappears.

This time, she’s ready.

She ignores the pain that pulsates, and disarms the knife from her, punching her twice and pushing her to the ground.

The sound of helicopters is more like vibrations in the air, and Natasha knows, Yelena wasn’t lying.

She’s failed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to the glass eyes that watch her.

And she runs.

Clint finds her in Beijing, blood clothes strewn on the floor, shivering on the bed.

“Nat.”

He calls her name, hoping for some sort of recognition.

“I failed.”

It’s only been two days.

He inches closer, finding her in her bra and shorts, deep bruising all over her body.

“You been fighting without me?”

“I failed,” she says again, this time it’s accompanied by tears.

This is new.

Natasha doesn’t cry. He’s scared now.

“What do you mean?”

He looks around for a towel, something, anything to help her, maybe bring her back to the present.

“Yelena, I found her, but they were there, they took her.”

Her words mean nothing to him, and he hopes that the coming reprimand from Fury is worth this venture.

“Who’s Yelena?” he asks softly, finally finding a towel, it already has blood on it.

“My sister,” she cries, “my sister.”

She tells a story of Ohio.

Of Alexei, and Melina.

And of her little sister.

Of innocence, and fear.

Clint thinks he needs a stiff drink as her trauma eats at his soul.

He makes her food that she doesn’t eat, and then keeps her talking.

She lays in his lap like a small child who’s sick.

She cries for her sister that can’t meet her where she is, that’s still under the control of a totalitarian government, that controls women.

She talks into the night, of their secret whistle, hiding spots when Alexei got angry and secret foods that the smuggled into their tree house.

Natasha talks, til she can’t cry or talk any more, and Clint feels his heart squeeze at the mention of protective siblings.

She hasn’t been part of shield for as long as he has.

But he knows with all his heart and soul that she is, was, worth saving.

As day breaks, she sleeps.

He lets her, booking flights home, letting Coulson and Fury know that they’re coming home.

Predictably, they both ask for a full debrief of why Strike Team are in China.

He ignores it.

“I’m sorry,” comes a quiet voice.

Her voice hiccups.

“Do you still trust me?” she whispers.

He smiles, moves closer to her as she cowers and wraps her arms around herself, expecting retribution.

“Only you,” he assures, “always you.”

She feels different when they arrive back to base.

Natasha is angry, at life, and the circumstances that have been served to both her and Yelena.

But it gives her some resolve.

This life, it’s not her own.

She owes her life to those that brought her up and kept her alive.

And that’s not the Red Room.

Natasha squeezes Clint’s hand before quickly letting go, takes a deep breath and walks into Fury’s office.

She’s going to get Yelena back.

She swears it on her life.

#black widow fic #natasha romanoff #black widow #yelena belova fic #natasha romanoff fic #nat and yelena #clintasha fic #clintasha #clint barton #hawkeye #my fic #clintasha fanfiction #bwf2022

57 notes · View notes

shivada-jade · 3 years

Text

soulmates!

soulmate!au because im weak. you're weak too.

characters: bennett, zhongli, diluc ➡ mentions: barbara, lisa, guizhong, hu tao, kaeya, crepus warning(s): bennett luck (he gets hurt a lot), wrote this at 2:48am so my writing may or may not make sense

bennett: feels the same emotions from the other, but the emotions have to be strong and genuine

he never understood your sudden bursts of sadness. it would come at the most inconvenient at times.

for as long as he could remember, the emotions that weren't his are mostly sad. he asked his dads about it and gently told him his soulmate system is feeling emotions from the other.

after crying from an unknown pain, he made it his soul purpose to constantly be happy all the time, no matter how unlucky he could be so you can be happy too.

his dads worry when he falls down and scrapes his knee, but he would always reply with, "i'm not hurt! my soulmate is hurt!"

he would then clutch the fabric on his chest tightly, like he's been stabbed with a sword and say, "my soulmate hurts right here."

he heaves a breath, "it doesn't compare to whatever luck i get."

"this pain is bearable," he convinces himself when he comes out a hilichurl camp in cuts and bruises.

"your soulmate needs you to be happy for them," he chastises himself for shedding a tear when another adventurer wronged him.

he visits barbara to heal his wounds and asks how she always looks so... happy, so smiley.

"all it takes is one smile to make yourself happy. it can be a slow process but it works!" she singsongs, "miss lisa showed me a study about it."

ever since barbara explained, he smiles the brightest of smiles in mondstadt. he refuses to let other adventurers let him down, worried he might hurt you more than it is.

soon, he finds out that he feels no sadness coming from you. he feels no weight on his shoulders. he feels happy after Good hunter ran out of food for him.

these are not my emotions, he thinks, a wide grin creeping it's way to his face.

he lets out the loudest laugh, giggles, and various joyous noises. he's never felt so happy in his life. for once, he feels lucky, because for once, you're finally happy in the other end of his invisible red string of fate.

his luck skyrockets when he sees a person around his age, with a gorgeous smile adorning their features. he knows its you, sitting by the fountain making wishes. he knows it's you when he sees your eyes that hold so much emotion.

it was as if his heart was tugging him to where you sat.

he's never felt so lucky to have you as his soulmate.

"thank you giving the best smiles"

zhongli: every time he passes his soulmate, he hears the sounds of bells ringing

now, zhongli never thought he would have a soulmate because of his past title of 'archon.' soulmate systems are a tricky thing. he knows there are so many ways to know your soulmate system.

the common system was their first words tattooed on themselves. many others had the ability to know when they meet them, in other words, a count down.

but zhongli never had those two, nor did he have faith in the soulmate system until the lantern rite festival.

walking by the busy streets, he muses to himself how pretty liyue is under the blanket of the moon and stars. he hears the merchants call to customers, attracting and waving at them to buy their products. he hears the clink of the mora in their bag is loud; the laughter from the children young and old marry a soft smile to his face.

he freezes, hearing something that should not belong in the lantern rite. the sound of bells ringing. it isn't any cow bell, or school bell. it's the sound of echoing, melodious wedding bells ringing his ear.

he vaguely remembers his friend guizhong mentioning about this rare particular soulmate system when she still roamed teyvat.

a soulmate!

zhongli stands straighter, eyes grazing on the sea of people, trying to see if anyone stopped to hear the bells he heard. he mutters a few apologies when people bump into him with lanterns in their hands, but that doesn't matter to him.

fate brought someone for him to love. it's just that... he doesn't know where.

he walks forward, he walks backwards to where he came from. he walks to the docks then to the top of liyue harbour, but he can't hear the sound of the bells again.

he doesn't panic. he doesn't rush, because he knows fate will bring you back together. he just doesn't know how long until he'll hear the bells again.

it came to him a surprise when he hears the bells everyday after that.

everyday when he sits at third-round knockout he hears the sound of bells behind him, but when he turns, he knows you've left already.

he sighs, blowing on his tea before taking light sips. it seems he won't be meeting you today.

one day, the ringing just stops. there's no sign of you, or your presence. zhongli assumes you're just taking a sick day, or you've decided to rest, but after a week of not hearing the bells, he worries.

archons, how he wanted to look for you, but he doesn't even know who you are. hu tao encourages zhongli to take the day off and look for you, so he did.

walking aimlessly in liyue, doubt crosses his mind. what if you were here for a business trip and left? it wasnt until he passes by a stunning figure he hears the bells again. he stiffens and turns to you when you stopped next to him.

"thank goodness," he says, slightly covering his smile with a gloved hand.

your eyes sparkle as you look at him, "thank goodness indeed."

diluc: lost possesions will come to your soulmate

for as long diluc knows, strange things always end up in his possessions: hairclips, pens, coins, and archons forbid- his soulmate's overdue bills.

his father laughs when younger diluc comes home dragging a wagon and the biggest teddy bear in history, because how on teyvat does someone lose a teddy bear taller than a door. crepus watches his son struggling to drag the big toy home and sees his other son pushing the wagon from behind, also struggling.

"what do you have there?"

all the response he gets are grunts. the side of his eyes crinkle with mirth, seeing his two sons having trouble bringing it home.

"father!" diluc calls out with a grin missing two of his front teeth, "i don't know where it came from. it's like it appeared from the sky."

"it actually did fall out of the sky!" kaeya says, "we were at the vineyard and i saw diluc get crushed!"

"i did not get crushed."

"did too," kaeya retaliates, sticking his tongue out.

that was the first time diluc heard of this certain soulmate system. lost things from his soulmate go to his possession; lost things from diluc go to his soulmate's possession.

crepus glances at his boys and gets an idea. he calls for them to follow him, and they do, obediently. he leads them to his room, pulling out a treasure chest full of frilly clothes, dresses, outfits that range from a farmer's outfit to a noblewoman.

"this chest is where your mother kept her favourite things," crepus pulls out a necklace from the bottom of the case. "this necklace was particularly her favourite."

diluc can see why. he's mesmerized by the ruby sparkle it hangs. the gold chain complimenting the red jewel and making it complete.

crepus clutches the necklace, looking at it longingly before placing it back in the chest. he places out all the old clothes from the container and lays it on his bed.

"you can keep your soulmate's things here like i once did. your pops is getting too old anyway, i-"

kaeya interrupts crepus jumps on the clothes that are on the bed, creating a havoc in the room. he jumps on the bed with so much energy even after diluc tells him about the story of the 5 little monkeys jumping on the bed.

though, crepus is having none of that. he picks up diluc by his small arms and flings him to kaeya, looking like a bowling ball knocking down a pin. the two boys gasp for air, shooting dirty looks at their father before they chase him out of the house.

the corner of diluc's mouth twitch up ever so slightly, remembering when he first knew of his soulmate. it would take a very observant person to notice his smile. he polishes the glass behind angel's share's counter. under the filtered sunlight, the glass glints. satisfied with the cleanliness.

the chest his father game him was fill of trinkets his soulmate had lost over the years, and good grief. his soulmate must be the most disorganized person ever. he remembers walking to dawn winery and a sack of mora drop on his feet. it wasn't a pleasant feeling, but the thing that has diluc worried is how his soulmate tends to lose the biggest things like a 7-foot-tall teddy bear.

diluc is about to place the wine glass on a cupboard until SMACK.

a thick paper hits his face from seemingly nowhere and so he knows that is his soulmate losing the tenth thing for the day. he has a room dedicated for the things his soulmate has lost, and he thinks he might need a second room.

he pulls the paper off his face and his eyes widen in shock. this two-inch thick paper are legal documents. loan agreements. overdue loan agreements.

[Name] [Last Name]

he notes the name in his head. [Name] owes the fatui 35 thousand mora as interest. what kind of reckless person- then it hits his mind. that sack of mora that fell from the sky was that 35 thousand to pay off the loans.

he knows where to go. he leaves the wineglass on the counter for charles to pick up and hastily grabs his coat and leaves the door.

"liyue, liyue, liyue, and the fatui." he chants in his head. loans. he greets his maid before ascending to his room. he snatches the mora that dropped on his feet and sprints out the door to retrieve his stallion.

a few hours at most to make it to where his fated partner was at, and so he sets off.

arriving at liyue is strange, seeing diluc's attire did not match the city, and seeing his hands are holding the reins of his horse tightly. a strange traveler from a foreign land... with a majestic stallion. he looks like a prince straight out of a fairytale.

he lightly pats his horse, urging to go a bit faster from the trotting they were doing until he meets the gaze of a distressed person in front of the fatui.

"i swear! i had the money and the papers just today!"

diluc scoffs, knowing who they were now, and they did not have the money today. they lost it a week ago.

"listen," the masked fatui grumbles. "im just here to do my job. if i don't have the money in my hands right now i'll-"

diluc jumps off the saddle and unloads the sack of mora from the side, dropping it on the fatui's hand with a seething glare, yet still polite.

"i believe they owe you 35 thousand? sounds about right, no?" he says, letting his diplomatic side show a bit. "for the sake of it, why not amuse me and take this, david. hmm?"

the fatui goes rigid, hearing his name. he slowly lifts his eyes up, "master diluc." he curtly nods and skittishly walks away. one time david spilled drinks at a mondstadt political gathering. he spilled it on diluc.

the ragnvindr waits for the fatui to walk away before turning to his, supposedly love of his life.

"you're the one who lost a 7-foot-tall teddy bear when i was six," he points out, waiting for your response.

his soulmate sheepishly smiles, "well- i would have a good defense but hey, did you at least enjoy having a 7-feet-tall teddy bear fall on you?"

"i did, along with a glass mug falling on me as well."

"i just cant believe how you never lose your stuff!" they retort, "the only thing i got was a missing tooth from you."

the tip of diluc's ears turn the same colour as his hair, but still wears a stoic expression. "i'm diluc ragnvindr," he greets, slightly bowing his head.

"and i'm yours"

part 2: with ganyu, kaeya and thoma

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #bennett #zhongli #diluc #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #bennett x reader #diluc ragnvindr

546 notes · View notes

peskygirl13 · 3 years

Note

MK SO-

I just got the Pokémon SWSH DLCs and I was wondering what it would be like for some legendary Pokémon to come to twst and cause some trouble(Legendarys I’d like to do ( you c an pick just one: Kyogre, Giratina, or Groudon)

If you can i want it to be just Diasomina!

This turned out longer than I expected and I got so mad with myself because I was almost done with writing this and I accidently deleted all my new work, so I had to start over from my last save point which is one of the reasons it took so long to post.

I’ve been binge playing the old Sinnoh games and rewatching the anime, so this was fun to write (despite me deleting my work).

This will have references to the Pokémon Platinum game, so spoilers if you haven’t played the game and plan to.

Hope you enjoy!

Malleus's favorite time of the day was night time. Night time was the best!

The world was at peace, it was quiet, everything was asleep, save for a few nocturnal creatures much like himself, he could hide from SIlver and Sebek and have some time to himself, and there were no students or humans who would see him and run away in terror.

But his favorite thing about night time was probably when he got to visit his favorite human, (Y/n).

Their situation was a bit odd, having appeared out of nowhere from a world full of creatures called Pokémon, but Malleus didn't care. They weren't afraid of him. After spending a lifetime of having people fear him due to his name, it was a nice change.

Malleus arrived at the Ramshackle dorm to find you already sitting outside, cleaning your Empoleon's feathers.

"Greetings, Child of Man." He greeted, happily walking up to you.

"Hey, Tsunotaro." You smiled, putting down Empoleon's brush to wave at him.

That was another thing Malleus adored about you. Even after finding out who he was, you still didn't fear him and continued calling him by that amusing nickname you gave him.

You both entered the dorm, along with Empoleon, and he was instantly greeted with the rest of your strange creatures. Luxray, Togekiss, Glaceon, Garchomp, and Lucario.

You headed over to the kitchen to make some tea while he got comfortable on the couch. Once he was seated, Garchomp laid its head on Malleus's lap, implying that it wanted scratches.

By the time you had returned with two mugs of steaming tea, all the other Pokémon had already gotten comfortable and most had fallen asleep.

You handed Malleus his mug before sitting down in your chair. Glaceon hopped up and curled up in your lap before falling back asleep.

After you both got comfortable, you began regaling Malleus with stories of your world.

Malleus loved hearing your stories.

From your gym battle challenges to your contests. Catching all your Pokémon and even receiving an egg from a woman named Cynthia that hatched into a Togepi that which layer evolved into your beloved Togekiss.

Malleus has never left the Valley of Thorns, except for school, so he enjoyed hearing about your travels. Your freedom to journey and see so many different places, never being tied down, he envied it.

“May I see your badges and ribbons again?” He asked.

“Sure.” You agreed, getting up to grab them.

At the movement, Glaceon, rather huffily, got up from your lap and moved to Malleus, curling up on his lap instead. He instantly started stroking her with one hand while the other continued scratching Garchomp. He only stopped when you handed him your badge and ribbon case.

He immediately opened them both and admired your impressive 7 badges and 5 sparkling ribbons.

You had told him that even though you had collected the required number of ribbons, you were transported to Twisted Wonderland before you could compete in the Grand Festival. You also hadn’t yet had the chance to earn your 8th and final gym badge, which allowed you to challenge the Elite Four and the Sinnoh Champion.

“They are very impressive, Child of Man.” Malleus complemented.

Even though there wasn’t a gym challenge or contests in Twisted Wonderland, Malleus could tell how much value each badge and ribbon you earned had.

“Thanks, Tsunotaro.” You beamed, positively preening at the complement. “Maybe when I find a way home you could come with me and have your own journey. There are a bunch of dragon type Pokémon I bet you’d like. Maybe your starter could be an Axew. Or a Dino. Maybe a Gible seeing how well you get along with Garchomp. There are also rock or electric types. OOH- Maybe a fairy type!”

Malleus tuned your rambling out. His head was both empty and racing.

Him? Go on a journey in another world? The idea was preposterous! Yet... also tempting.

Traveling around with no chains. Nobody knowing who he was, thus no one quivering at the sight of him. No overbearing, but well meaning, guards to coddle him. He liked this idea!

Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to dwell on the tempting daydream when Ramshakle’s door slammed open with a loud bang.

“WAKA-SAMA!!!”

Speak of the devil.

You and Malleus turned to the doorway to a disheveled and hysterical looking Sebek and a normal sleepy looking Silver.

“Sebek.” Malleus greeted, hiding his annoyance of being interrupted during his time with his Child of Man.

“Waka-sama, you mustn’t leave without telling us! What if something happens to y-”

The half-fae was cut off by and ice beam, freezing him solid. You and Malleus looked over at Glaceon who was angry about having her sleep disturbed for a third time. Now quite irritated and huffy, Glaceon angrily marched upstairs to try and get some sleep in your room.

“My apologies.” You jumped when Lilia appeared behind you without warning, hanging upside down as usual. “They ran off when I wasn’t looking.”

You looked back at the other Diasomnia residence. Silver had already fallen asleep, using Togekiss’s soft, feathery body as a pillow, while Sebek was slowly beginning to thaw out of the ice.

You wish you could say this is the weirdest thing to ever happen with them.

After having Lucario use force-palm and free Sebek, you all sat down near the fire.

(You left Silver be since he was already asleep.)

Sebek wanted to know what was so fascinating about you that Waka-sama would continuously come visit you.

The only thing you could think of was telling them about your journey.

“After I won my seventh gym badge at Snowpoint, I had to meet my friend, Barry, at Lake Acuity and right after that I had to meet with Professor Rowan and Lucas at Lake Verity.”

“Why did you have to go to those lakes?” Lilia asked, genuinely curious as to what value they had.

“Uh, well-- mmh-- pthbbt.” You tried to think of a way to avoid that question, or at least dance your way around it, and the stuttering and raspberry blowing was obviously helping you be discreet in avoiding the question.

“GLACE!!”

A loud yell echoed from upstairs thatw as loud enough to wake even Silver. You were momentarily grateful that you had been interrupted before realizing ‘Oh shit that’s my Pokémon.”

“Glaceon!” You yelled, bolting from your chair and rushing up the stairs with your Pokémon and the Diasomnia boys at your heels.

You opened your bedroom door with a loud bang and saw Glaceon in a defensive stance, hissing at the mirror with Grim looking frazzled.

“Fgaah! Minion, control your Pokémon! I was asleep and then it started shouting and tried to attack the mirror!” He yelled angrily, before stalking off to the living room to continue sleeping.

You sighed before looking over at the mirror. You held out your arm towards your Pokémon so they knew not to do anything yet. You inched closer to the mirror, pausing only for a second to pet Glaceon and calm her down a bit. You walked forward a few more steps until you were face-to-face with the mirror.

Now that you were closer, you could see the shadow of something moving within the glass. You didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t Micky. You leaned a bit closer, trying to make out the figure--

“GIRATINA!!”

Everything went black.

The first thing you noticed when you could see again was that you were clearly not in your room. Or your dorm for that matter.

Everything was weird. You weren’t sure of any other way to describe it other than weird.

Weird and familiar.

“The Reverse World.” You muttered, shocked by your sudden return to the feared Giratina’s playground.

You didn’t have long to stay dumbfounded when you remembered the Legendary who lived in this world. You frantically looked around you and saw that your team and the boys were with you, which did nothing to curb your panic. Grim wasn’t with you all, so you assumed hoped that he was still at Ramshackle.

You first woke up your Pokémon. They freaked out for a second before realizing where they were, putting them all on guard. They carefully scanned their surroundings for anything they found threatening while you quickly crawled over to the boys, traying to shake them awake.

“Get up. Guys, get up! We need to move!”

The Diasomnia boys hardly registered what was happening and where they were before you pulled them away. Your team created a barrier around you all as you lead the boys through the strange new world. All they could do was look around wildly.

“Careful, gravity gets weird here.” You warned them.

True to your words, the piece of land you all were walking on started to curve in the air until you all started walking upside down. Even Lilia, who was used to hanging upside down, was a bit thrown off about this.

“What is this place?” Silver asked what everyone was thinking, knowing that you were the only one who could give any of them an answer.

“The Distortion World.” You explained. “Also known as the Reverse World. It’s kind of like the Underworld of my world.”

That explanation only provided them with more questions but went they entered a place that had these large bubbles floating around them they were quickly distracted.

“Hey,” Silver called, gaining everyone’s attention. “This thing has headmaster Crowley in it.”

Said bubble did have a picture of Crowley in his office, working late into the night. Huh. Who know he actually did anything.

Silver raised a hand towards the bubble.

“No, don’t touch it!” You exclaimed. Unfortunately it was a second to late and the bubble popped at the slightest graze of Silver’s fingers.

The boys looked over to you at the sound of you yell, seeing your panicked expression.

“Don’t. Touch. Anything.” You order, stressing out each word. “Everything in this world effects the real world. If you aren’t careful you could kill someone through this place.

The boys looked positively alarmed.

“Will the headmaster be alright?”

You waved off their concern, continuing to lead the way. “He’ll be fine. Popping that bubble didn’t kill him, but it did feel like he was hit with a bowling ball.

“How do you know this? How do you know so much about this place, (Y/n).” Lilia asked, dead serious.

You glance over your shoulder at them before sighing.

Guess it was time to come clean.

“There are some things that happened during my journey that I didn’t tell you guys about.” You confessed.

“While journeying through Sinnoh, I constantly ran into an organization called Team Galactic. Their leader, Cyrus, believed that the world was ugly and needed to be destroyed. His plan was to capture the legendary Pokémon, Palkia and Dialga, and the Lake Guardians, Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf. Those three were the reason I met Barry and Professor Rowan at the lakes, Lilia, to try and save the Lake Guardians from Team Galactic. Anyway, Cyrus claimed that he was going to create his own, perfect world using the powers of the legendary Pokémon. At least I think that was his plan. He talks like Shakespeare and I have a middle school education. Anyway, before he could create his ‘perfect world’ Giratina appeared and took Cyrus away to here, the Distortion World. This is Giratina’s domain.”

The boys were stunned into silence. They knew you were strong, but for you to have done all that as well as fighting overblots? They were truly impressed.

“What happened afterwards?” Malleus questioned, enthralled by your story.

“Cynthia, the current Sinnoh Champion, and I entered the Distortion World to save Cyrus. Unfortunately, he saw this place as his ideal world and didn’t want to leave. In the end, we had to use force and I beat him in a battle. And, after that, I had to face Giratina itself. But, I don’t know how, but before I could face it, the Dark Mirror called me to Twisted Wonderland.”

You stopped walking, taking a deep breath before turning to face the boys.

“We need to find Giratina. Giratina’s the only Pokémon that can travel between worlds and its the only thing that can get us back to Night Raven.”

Your tone alone was enough to my the Diasomnia boys understand the severity of the situation.

“Human, if this creature is as powerful as you claim, then how do you expect to get it?” Sebek interrogated.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a purple ball with an ‘M’ on it, showing it the the boys.

“This is a master ball. I stole it from Cyrus’s base when I went to save the Lake Guardians. It can catch any Pokémon without fail. All we need to do is find Giratina.”

“Lucar!”

“Luxray!”

You all turned to Lucario and Luxray who were growling in the same direction. Looking closely, you could see something coming at you all. Your team took their battle stances and sure enough, there was the Angel of Darkness itself, Giratina.

Even Malleus had to admit, that creature was terrifying.

It looked like a dragon and centipede mixed together, but it towered over everything, easily dwarfing them all.

You waisted no time.

“Empoleon, Hydro Cannon!” You ordered. Even Sebek had to admit that your authoritative tone was hard to ignore and resist, full of confidence and superiority.

Empoleon listened without question, fearlessly attacking the towering giant.

“Lucario, Aura Sphere! Glaceon, Ice Beam! Luxray, Thunder! Garchomp, Dragon Rush!”

All your Pokémon attacked at once, hitting Giratina square on. The legendary screeched before firing a move of its own that your team narrowly avoided.

“Great job. Keep attacking!” You ordered shooing the boys out of Giratina’s firing range.

“What do we need to do to help, (Y/n)?” Malleus asked. He was already gripping his pen, ready to fight.

“Nothing. Just stay put and don’t move.” You ordered sternly. The boys were stunned.

“What?! (Y/n) we can help-”

“I know you can help,” You cut off. “But I don’t need to defeat Giratina. I just need to distract it.”

You ran off before they could question what you meant, whistling for your Pokémon.

“Togekiss!” You called, jumping off the edge of the land and easily getting caught by your flying type, who flew you behind Giratina.

You let your team get in one last group attack before throwing the master ball at Giratina.

The legendary effortlessly went in and after a spectacular dive made by you and Togekiss, you caught the ball and returned to the boys.

The boys ran over to you as you climbed off Togekiss, looking at the ball in your hand.

“I can’t believe you actually caught it, human!” Sebek exclaimed, flabbergasted.

“Thanks, Sebek.”

“So what now?” Silver asked. The group all turned to you expectedly and you rolled your eyes before turning around to the wide open space and releasing Giratina from the master ball.

“Giratina,” You called, “Please take us back.”

Giratina stared down at you before letting out an echoing screech and lowing its head to your level.

Immediately understanding what it wanted you to do, you crawled onto its head before waving the boys over.

“C’mon. We its going to take us back.”

Hesitantly, the boys climbed on with your Pokémon and once everyone was on, Giratina soared through the air.

This was different from riding a broom or riding Togekiss, who was happily flying beside you all, but it was exhilarating at the same time.

Too soon for anyone’s tastes, Giratina slowed down to a stop before lowering itself down so that everyone could climb off.

The place were Giratina dropped you all off was a small patch of land with two lakes on it. You and the boys could see your bedroom in one of the lakes, making you realize that you were looking through your bedroom mirror.

“Alright!” You cheered. “Let’s get back.” But before you could step through the reflection, Empoleon called out to you.

“Empoleon!”

“Huh? What is it, Empoleon?”

He was looking in the other lake, pointing at something.

You, your team, and the boys looked through the refection and you couldn’t restrain the gasp that left your mouth.

You could see the Mesprit, the guardian of Lake Verity.

“That’s Mesprit, Lake Verity’s guardian!” You exclaimed, coming to several realizations at once. “That’s close to Twinleaf Town. I-I could go home!”

You turned to your team and the Diasomnia boys, your eyes sparking with both joy and a few unshed tears. “With Giratina we can go home and still stay in Twisted Wonderland!”

Mallues watched you with soft eyes. He had seen a side if you tonight that he had never seen before. Your courage, your confidence, your skill. He had these too, but yours stemmed from experience. This wasn’t something you were taught since you were born like him, these were abilities you learned through trial and error with your team. Something that he wanted.

With a new found determination, Malleus turned to his most trusted knights and friends.

“Lilia, Silver, Sebek,” He began, quickly gaining everyone's attention, “I have decided that until it is time for me to receive the crown from my grandmother, I want to travel (Y/n)’s world with a Pokémon of my own.”

Even you weren’t expecting that announcement.

“WHAT?! WAKA-SAMA ARE YOU FEELING WELL?!?!? WE MUST GET YOU TO AN INFIMERORY!!”

“I’m fine, Sebek. And I’m not joking.”

“WHAAAAAAAT?!?! YOU, HUMAN, YOU HAVE GIVEN WAKA-SAMA THIS DANGEROUS IDEA!!”

“I think its a great idea.”

“MASTER LILIA?!?!”

“zzzzz”

You couldn’t help snorting at the scene in front of you. A rather calm Malleus simply being unmovable about his choice of coming home with you, a hysterical Sebek trying to talk him out of it, an impish looking Lilia who actually supported Malleus’s idea, and a snoozing silver, who could still sleep effortlessly despite the chaos surrounding him.

You leaned up against Empoleon’s belly, him and all your other Pokémon already lying down, knowing that this was going to take a while. Even Giratina was curled up!

But, You thought, watching the group was a soft smile, you know that no matter how much you wanted to go home, you would've missed this. And this, your friends and NRC, was something that you never wanted to lose.

Bonus:

After sorting everything out with Crowley, you returned to your world to reconcile with your friends and your mom. It took some explaining, but bringing Grim back with you as well as Malleus with his magic and horns was enough to convince everyone what happened to you.

Afterwards, you were able to compete in the Grand Festival. You didn’t end up winning, however you did make it to the finals. Your opponent, Dawn, had only beaten you by a few points.

The Diasomnia gang, as well as Grim, the Adeuce combo, and the Pomefiore Trio were all present to see this and couldn’t have been prouder.

Once the Grand Festival had come to a close, you headed over to Sunnyshore City and won your 8th and final Gym Badge, permitting you to challenge the Elite Four and Cynthia.

The Pomefiore Trio didn’t watch these challenges, but the other did.

Their nerves were through the roof when you finally faced Cynthia. And when your Garchomp miraculously out sped her Garchomp with the finishing move nobody cheered louder.

In the end, you took Malleus to the place where you caught Garchomp back when he was still a Gible and caught Malleus his own, whom he unironically named ‘Gargoyle.’

Malleus did have to return to the Valley of Thorns, but not without you promising that the upcoming summer would be the start of his own Pokémon Journey.

I wrote most of this forgetting about Grim, so sorry he doesn’t have a bigger role or more screen time.

Fun story; I got in trouble for writing down my ideas for this at work even though I did it while the store was dead and I’ve worked there for nearly two years and have either written something or drawn something almost every shift I have. Litterally no one but the manager to caught me cares.

And, just to irritate me more (whether she was aware of it or not), said manager takes my writings and decides to read them and then proceeds to put them back in the wrong order before lecturing me.

So, yeah, that was fun.

#ask #twst x pokemon au #pokemon #twisted wonderland au #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x pokemon #diasomnia #diasomnia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #silver #pokemon platinum #pokemon sinnoh

476 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (vii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hey shoutout to @ugherik for suggesting a spin on the “A PLATYPUS!??!“ [perry puts his hat on] “PERRY THE PLATYPUS!???” thing. i used it in here, it’s a really small part and probably missable but i tried!! also i like the next chapter better than this one, i just wanted to put this here so it doesn’t seem abrupt <3333

here’s

my ko-fi

if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Bucky can’t stop staring at the mirror.

He wishes it was for narcissistic purposes. He had enough reason for it to be. His age may be a hundred but he had the youthful exuberance of a very drained sixty year old.

But no, it wasn’t because of the steel cut jawline or thousand gigawatt smile.

After last week’s mini-spiral, he does what almost half the videos on TikTok warn him not to do.

He got a haircut.

Everyone’s reaction stopped him from following it up with an ear piercing, but he can’t confidently say he didn’t at least consider it once. Maybe a neck tattoo.

He pulls at a lock of hair. It’s not even longer than his finger.

What did he do-

“It’s just a haircut, man,” he says to no one in particular, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.

He runs his hands through his hair. It takes lesser time than he was used to.

Steve had told him he looked good. But then again, Steve wore a fugly costume 90% of the time, what did he know?

Clint acknowledged it and didn’t outright call him ugly, which he supposed was a compliment. Wanda simply smiled at him.

“FRIDAY?” he reaches out.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” comes the automated reply.

“How are you?” It took him some getting used to her, given that she was constantly listening to everything, and in general seemed to go against the universal idea of privacy.

But his therapist told him he needed to form friendships.

She didn’t mention it had to be human ones.

“As good as ever. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He wants to ask her what she thinks of his hair until he realises fashion advice from a faceless AI is a new low for him. Maybe ‘Do you think I should crawl into a pit and die?’ would be more appropriate.

“Never mind,” he dismisses instead. “Any messages for today?”

“A reminder to buy a harder bed because you can’t keep sleeping on the floor.” Ah, that was on Sam’s recommendation three months ago, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “And a text from a contact named Nuisance saying to meet them at the attached location in thirty minutes.”

“Where is the location?”

“The local sports centre.”

“Isn’t that closed today?”

If he had to go out in public looking like this, maybe he could wear a cap and sunglasses and no one would recognise him. Unfortunately, as he was reminded several times before by anyone with an iota of common sense, it was a stupid disguise.

Beanie it was, then. Bare minimum.

“It is, yes.” Fewer citizens to worry about.

“Okay.” He hesitates in front of the mirror again, adjusting the hat on his head. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.”

He stares at the little tuft of hair at the front that refused to stay down no matter how much he shoved it back.

“Come on, man,” he exhales in slight despair. “Whatever.”

____

The lock of the door leading to the pool is easy enough to pick. He can see how you got in without a hitch even though it was closed.

The deck around the pool was absolutely drenched in water. No one was using it, there was no reason for water to splash out unless it was deliberately kept like this.

He catches sight of you easily, being that you’re the only two people there. You were standing at the end of the hall, head ducked as you scrolled through your phone.

The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

You don’t look up from your mobile when you start talking, “What do you think 6 year olds like?”

Because James Barnes, carbon dated to 1917 and therefore certified young person, would definitely know the answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Lego?”

“Just how much money do you think a teacher makes-”

You stopped mid-sentence, finally lifting your head to catch his eye. He stares back at you, steps faltering when you don’t move.

"Who are you?" you squinted.

What

"It's me," Bucky says, tugging off the dumb beanie and using it to gesture vaguely towards himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have worn it, it was ridiculous anyway-

"You sound like him..." You narrow your eyes. “You don't look like him.”

Great

He rolls his eyes before putting on a mock scowl. Can't have Bucky Barnes without a sense of eternal disgruntlement.

"Oh hey, that is you." You grin. "You got a haircut."

“I did.” He suddenly feels the awkwardness increase. His fingers fidget with the beanie.

“Nice.” You nod in acknowledgement.

He wants to hit himself at the words that just spill out before he could think about it. “You hate it.”

“I never said that,” you snort. “And since when does my opinion matter?”

“It doesn’t.” But now he wants to know what you think since he didn’t trust anyone else to tell him honestly.

“Must cut down on time in the shower, huh?”

It did.

He shrugs. He shoves the beanie into his back pocket.

“Was it a crisis haircut?” How did you kno- “Are you going to get bangs next time?”

“Shut up,” he says lamely, a dull burn in his cheeks.

“I know a place where you can get hair dye for cheap. Not technically FDA approved, but I think purple streaks are a good place to start-”

“What are we doing here?” he interrupts, sighing.

“Skinny dipping. Take off your shirt, Barnes.”

“Funny,” he says dryly, eyeing your shoes when you straighten up.

Ice skates.

“Fine, pants then.” You don’t make any effort to move from your end so he does, walking closer to you.

“What are those for?” He doesn’t hide the annoyance from his voice when he points at your feet.

“Oh, these?” You look down at them. “Yeah, I’m going to freeze the pool.”

That seems... mild compared to the shit show you wanted to do last time.

“For?” He halts where he is.

“’M gonna take my friends ice skating.”

“Is that all?” He wants to make a comment about the fact that you have friends but bites it back.

“Today is just a trial run. Tomorrow I’m gonna go freeze the East River.” There it is.

“The East River is not your personal ice skating rink.”

“Not yet it isn’t.” You lift up a middle finger.

It was too early for you to flip him off, even by your standards.

He raises an eyebrow.

Your face scrunches in confusion. You follow his gaze to your finger. “Oh yeah, no, that’s a freeze ring.”

Only then he notices a ring around the finger. From where he was standing he could make out the blue stone that adorned it.

“Joy.” He rolls up the sleeves of his black bomber jacket. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“No no, wait.” You hold up your hand and he complies, having nothing to lose anyway. You pull out your phone and press a few buttons before shoving it back into your bag and tossing it aside.

The soft sounds of a piano start playing from a boombox near the corner of the room. A child starts singing following a series of knocks.

His eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is this?”

“The Frozen soundtrack.” You beam at him. “I thought it was fitting.”

He doesn’t know what that is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. He can vaguely make out the lyrics being about a snowman but he isn’t too concerned.

He takes one step forward. You immediately point your fist at the ground in front of him, forcing him to jump back when a blast hits right in front of his shoes. Suddenly he gets why the floor is covered in water.

It sounds like a series of cracks as the water starts freezing over, a layer of ice now separating him and you.

"You ready?” The mischief was woven in your voice as the blasts continued throughout the deck, effectively turning the entire floor into ice.

Bucky takes a step tentatively forward. Not bad. He takes another. Okay.

The third one is when shit starts to hit the fan. His hands shoot out to hold onto his balance when his footing slips from beneath him.

His Nike sneakers aren’t used to snow. They’re used to well manicured lawns and pavement trips to Starbucks and marble floors of the compound. Not swimming pool decks covered in ice.

He can hear you singing in the distance and every time he looks up you’re a little further away, making sure every inch of space is frozen.

It takes him a while to get over the initial fear of breaking his skull and just move forward swiftly with short steps. A goddamn penguin is what he looked like.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” you chirp as you whiz past him. He reaches out to grab at you, only to miss by an inch. He staggers, arms flapping wildly to regain his stability.

He hears crackling beside him. He gets a second or two to watch ice crystals spread through the water before turning it completely solid. You step onto the now frozen pool, testing your weight with one leg before cautiously getting on.

A triumphant smile emerges on your face. “Awesome.”

He manages to press himself against the wall as a form of support.

There is no point to this whole thing. He knows this. It’s been well over 6 weeks and there is genuinely no point to this.

He realises it again when he moves from side to side, body erupting into a waddle.

Why is he doing this. He doesn’t get paid extra. He doesn’t get any kind of compensation. All he gets is more wisecracking geniuses, embarrassment and the mortifying ordeal of getting caught imitating a penguin.

The song changes to a woman singing about doing something for the first time, forcing him to pay attention to it. He hears something about ball room and balls and tunes right back out.

Bucky manages to find his way to the actual pool since that’s where you’re twirling around, opting to land on his mental arm in case things go wrong. He takes a sliding step forward, followed by another. Maybe he can do this.

“If a 200 pound super soldier can stand on this, I suppose it’s strong enough,” you muse, watching him slip and slide as he tries to invent makeshift ice skating.

Unfortunately, his method doesn’t have any brakes, so while he’s too busy trying to move forward, there’s no way to actually stop. He finds this out very soon when he almost launches himself off the edge of the pool.

Something yanks him backwards and back onto the ice.

“Honestly, this is utterly useless since you can’t really do anything but it’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” you admit when he goes sliding towards the middle, arms flailing.

“You had to pick fuckin’ ice of all things.” He thinks that maybe he’s getting a hang of this. He can definitely move faster than what he was doing like, 10 minutes ago. It’s not like you were going anywhere, anyway.

“I like to keep things spicy.”

He stays where he is to glare at you. You mouth the words to the song, watching his every move whenever it interested you.

Okay, change of plan; a temporary distraction till he figures out how to actually get the ring from you. He settles on skating towards the edge of the rink slowly, taking a step off, slipping almost immediately when his foot comes in contact with the deck.

“Where are you going?” you yell over the music initially but immediately break into song when it ends in a crescendo.

He takes a knee, lifting his metal arm up before driving it into the ground. It shatters magnificently, leaving small shards of ice at his disposal.

He picks up one of them, waiting for you to complete your dumb twirl. He takes aim, and-

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You stop your off key singing to rub your shoulder where the ice hit you.

He wordlessly picks up another piece to throw at you, hitting you squarely in the leg.

“Stop that!”

He may not be able to move as fast but he can definitely throw.

“Give me the ring,” he commands, stretching his arm behind his back before releasing another piece to hit your forearm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s nowhere you can skate to avoid his stupidly good marksmanship.

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He shrugs, breaking another patch of ice to replenish his ammo. “Hand over the ring.”

“Over my dead body,” you shriek when a particularly big piece lands next to your feet. You knew he missed that shot on purpose.

“I feel like I’m finally acting my age,” he says casually, finding your darting about in order to avoid him more fun than he initially thought. “Can’t throw pebbles at meddling kids so this is the next best option. Thanks.”

“If you acted your age you’d be in a casket, Barnes,” you hissed, finding that skating in zig zags helped your cause, but not by much. “I’d be- you bitch- I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

You raise your arm, ready to send another blast to freeze the water that was starting to melt around him, hopefully, keep him where he was if it froze around him.

He flinches. You notice immediately, hand dropping slightly when you realise what it looked like.

“I’m not gonna freeze you,” you say, softer than you intended. From what you knew, he had enough and more experience with that and you weren’t going to contribute to it.

He swallows thickly, giving himself a little shake of his head as if to jolt him out of his train of thought.

Another piece of ice hits you in the leg. You let out a string of curses at him.

“The more ice you make, the more I have to throw at you, Y/N.” He waits for you to regain your balance when you nearly take a stumble.

“Shut up, you’re so immature.”

“Remind me whose plan this was again?” No point waiting for you to regain your balance when you fall over only a few seconds later.

He gathers a few shards in his beanie, tucking it into his belt like a little makeshift rucksack just in case before venturing out on the main rink again.

It’s more difficult for you to stand without railings to guide you, giving him enough and more time to make his way towards you, staggering and skidding.

Both of you looked ridiculous.

“Stay away, fiend.”

“Ring first.” He holds his hand out in front of you. He even considered pulling you up if you just made things easier.

Next thing he knows he’s on his ass on the ice beside you.

“I hate you,” he groans, watching as you inch away from him on your knees.

He doesn’t really have any other options so he shoves aside the humiliation and gets on his knees, using his arms to drag him along the ice.

“For the love of Christ, none of us are winning here. Just give me the ring.”

The bitch from the soundtrack sings about letting it go but he won’t.

“Never,” you shout, sliding away from him as fast as possible.

You make use of the fact that the top layer of ice is starting to melt, using the ring to freeze it again. His knees and fingers get stuck as the water freezes over but he has super strength. It barely takes him a second to free himself.

“Great,” he huffs, just settling down on the ice, ignoring the sting of cold that was spreading through his limbs. Running after you wasn’t going to work; he needed a way to get the ring.

“You won last time, I’m not letting you win again.”

“Are we seriously keeping score?” He watches as you scramble towards the edge.

“No one likes a loser, Bucky.” You use the pool stair railings to pull yourself up.

“Explain why you have friends then.” He can’t help himself this time.

“Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes.

He doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, when you take a step back into the rink, he raises his arm and pummels it into the ice, just to annoy you.

The ground damn near shakes, pushing you dangerously towards losing your balance again.

“Are you crazy?” Your arm shoots out in front of you to keep you from falling headfirst.

“No.” He does it again. This time there’s a crack in the ice. “I’m just very tired.”

“If the ice breaks we’re both gonna be underwater, you moron!”

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Freeze it again. I’ll just find different ways to ruin it for you.”

You glare at him. He raises his arm above his head again.

“Fine! Fine, stop.” You eye him as he lowers his arm.

He reaches for his stash of ice pieces from earlier, throwing one at your shoulder again.

“Boy, I swear if you don’t stop doing that-” you duck when another one comes at you. You had no idea he could be this annoying.

It suddenly hits him, like a lightbulb going off in his brain. He wipes his hands off on his jacket, getting on all fours before slowly managing to pick himself up again.

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly like he was studying you.

“What?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing as he starts inching closer towards you. “What are you thinking?”

It’s like watching a newborn deer stumble its way through the world, albeit more gracefully, until he starts picking up speed. The motherfucker was going to mow you down.

The skates are useful but not so much when an extremely determined bumbling oaf is barrelling towards you, his speed beginning to match yours even without equipment.

You don’t know why you’re running, you don’t know why he’s chasing after you but when you see the end of the pool you take a sharp left only to have him knock right into you, sending you both sprawling.

You land half on top of him, breaking your fall but it doesn’t stop the very loud groan that escapes your mouth. He’s already in the process of sitting up straight, giving you less time to analyse what just happened.

“What the fuck was that for?” you speak through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ acting like the both of us have free healthcare.”

“You refused to give up.”

“So your plan was to tackle me like a quarterback?” You threw your hands up.

“One part of it.” He drags himself to the edge, away from you.

“There's more to your monkey brained plan?” He doesn’t look at you. The ice around the pool has more or less melted, letting him gain proper footing on the floor before he stands up.

“Oh, yeah.” He turns to you. “The other’s a trick I stole from Stark.”

Bucky holds up the ring. Your jaw slightly drops, eyes searching your finger for the now missing piece of tech.

“Suppose that’s two points for me?”

You’re impressed. You also want to stab him. So you do the next best thing.

“When I imagined you holding a ring in front of me, the circumstances were very different,” you comment.

“Bye, Y/N.” He spins on his heel, not even giving you a second’s worth of reaction. You found it amusing.

He heads towards the door, clothes all wet. He empties out melted ice water from his beanie before stuffing it into his pocket. Just when he’s about to leave, you remember something.

Do you mean it genuinely or just because it has an effect on him?

“Just for the record, Barnes, about your hair-” you call out, earning his attention from over his shoulder. “I think you look really good either way.”

The world may never know.

You swear you can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turns around again.

He slips on a block of ice, cursing and clenching on to the door to keep him upright, quickly yanking it open and leaving before he has a chance to embarrass himself further.

Smooth.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

985 notes · View notes

words-etched-in-her-skin · 3 years

Text

Hello, my dears! I wrote this little bit of tastiness for a dear friend’s birthday, and they’ve given the okay for me to share it with all of you thirsty humans 😏 Enjoy! (being over 3300 words - this goes under a cut 😅)

Alcina NSFW ABCs

Aftercare

Imagine the most exquisite aftercare wrapped in the most delicious package. That is what you have coming to you with Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. She will use every part of your size difference to hold and comfort you. Knowing how sore you must be.. The bite marks still freshly decorating your flushed skin. A smear of her lipstick across your swollen lips. How utterly wrecked you'll be as her strong arms wrap around you. Placing a soft kiss to your temple as she pours you a cup of your favorite tea.

Body Part

Being the delicious little snack that you are, it will be hard for her to choose her favorite part of you. She will caress… lick.. bite.. kiss.. breathe in as much of your gorgeous body as she can. Your skin will hum at the feeling of her. Once she gets to a certain level of intimacy, she will worship you as often as she can. Never allowing you to go a single day without feeling utterly desired by her.

I mean… YOU’VE SEEN HER! ARMS, SHOULDERS, HIPS, THIGHS, ASSSS… every single inch of her is sinful to the highest degree. Though, if you truly had to pick, you'd most likely choose her fingers. The sheer size ... the talent… the girth of them dancing up your inner thigh before sliding deep inside of you… one first, and then the other - not stopping until you were deliciously filled, stretching around her as she fucks you relentlessly.

Cum

While it's not important to her if she always finishes, she absolutely loves to get her partner's off. She lives for it. She gets immense pleasure just from the act of utterly wrecking you.. over and over again until you’re literally gasping for air. One hand holding you up as her mouth completely covers your core. The length of her tongue as deep, and full as it can be as she drinks in every last drop of you - moaning at your taste.

Dirty Talk

She usually prefers that her pet has a more obedient tongue when speaking to her, but she’s been known to like it occasionally. She’ll be much more inclined to use her masterful linguistics on you. Making you drip for her with no more than just a few words. Whether you’re being particularly well behaved, or feeling significantly bratty, the way she uses her tongue will never cease to send a shiver across your needy little body.

Experience

Advanced/Expert

The years of experience that Alcina has over you will be overwhelming at first - you may even feel a little insecure. But when it comes to her favorite little human, she will be more than happy to teach you everything that she knows. Keeping you busy late into the midnight hours as she shows you anything, and everything that you’re wanting to know. Learning all of the things that can unravel you in turn. A smug smirk across her face as she renders you speechless with her talented extremities. Each one as experienced as the last. And I mean… can you imagine.. the abilities that tongue of hers likely has? How it moves against your core. Her exquisite fingers holding just as much talent, sliding in and out of you. And well.. when it comes to her strap game… I just hope you’re prepared not to be able to walk.

Favorite Position

Her favorite place to have you will always be with your gorgeous body pressed against the cool brick of the castle wall. Hand firmly around your neck as she holds you in place.The look of desperation in your eyes as she teases the girth of her fingers over your entrance. Reveling in each delicious whimper that escapes from your eager little mouth. Her thick fingers sliding in… and out… teasingly slow… making you drip. Her teeth nipping at your flushed skin, forcing you to cry out for her. It’s a position that brings out her most primal of needs - the hunter in her breathing the sweet smell of her prey.

Well, considering what a needy little human you are - you’ll be rather insatiable when it comes to exactly how much of her you want. Never quite feeling like you could get your fill of her. Being kinkier than most pets that she’s had, Alcina will know exactly what you need - what you most desire. With a shiny black strap adorning her waist - slightly enlarged to match the sheer size of her - you will eagerly rest on your knees in front of her. The cool tip of her stap against your ass before she very slowly slides it in, allowing proper time for your body to stretch around it. A delicious heat spilling over you. You shudder against her, moaning loudly as the width of her fingers finds the entrance of your core. A needy ‘please’ escaping from your lips, and well.. how could she deny her favorite pet? With the length of her fingers sliding deep inside of you - feeling filled in every way possible.

Goofy

Absolutely not. While she may tolerate foolishness in her castle at times (mostly from her daughters) she considers it a waste of valuable time in the bedroom. She’d much rather spend those minutes inducing other very gay feelings in you.

Hair

While she understands the appeal of being shaved, she prefers her pet to at least have some hair. As for herself, she keeps it a little more natural though neatly trimmed.

Intimacy

It will take a while for Alcina to warm up to the idea of intimacy that goes past completely wrecking you. But when she does, it will become very natural to her. Lingering touches as you pass by each other. Golden spheres looking at you fondly as you pour her favorite cup of tea. Cuddling long into the night, her strong arms holding you close against her as she stroked your hair gently. Once you have her heart, she will never leave you wondering just how much she cares for you. Your security in the companionship will be very important to her, and she will use whatever words or sweet touches she can to remind you of that.

Jack Off / Masturbation

There isn’t a single pair of hands in existence that can unravel Alcina as the same way that her own. With so many years spent, sometimes with nothing more than the company of her magnificent self - Alcina knows every spot to touch, to tease. Her strong hands roaming over her body as if it’s meeting it for the first time - hungry - yet inherently knowing exactly where to go. If you behave, she may even allow you to watch. Her hips rocking perfectly while her fingers slide deliciously in and out of her dripping core.

She will always prefer being the one who gives you pleasure. Though, if she were away on business or for some reason she couldn’t tend to it, she would allow it. Regardless, though - She absolutely loves watching you touch yourself. A slight pink tint to her cheeks as her eyes rake over you - watching every exquisite movement that your body makes. The roll of your hips - thrust of your fingers - how you moan out for her as she tells you exactly where to touch yourself.

Kinks

You could fill a dictionary with the amount of kinks that Alcina Dimitrescu has. And she’ll reveal each one to you... slowly. Always surprising you with new ones. Lucky for you, this means that this gorgeous creature will be happy to indulge you in any and all of your many kinks. As she has you tied down, one hand around your throat as her fingers on the other roughly slip inside of you - a warm sting spilling over you as she slid a third one in - a single gasp escaping from your lips as your core stretches around her. Decorating your flustered body with her mouth - teeth - nails. Claiming you in every way possible. “You’re mine, you perfect little slut, you know that?”

Location

Given her sheer size, your Lady would, on any normal day, prefer the comforts of her own bed.. or the convenience of a firm wall against your backside. Though, occasionally, on exceptionally longer trips you may find her fingers toying with the hem of your pants - just briefly - before sliding down and taking your core as if she owns it (and she does).

Motivation

Inherently, there will be many things about you that will make Alcina want to completely wreck you. A bratty smirk to your lips.. the beautiful blush that spills over you at just the mere presence of her.. how absolutely exquisite you look on your knees - eager and desperate for her touch. Sometimes, it will just be something as simple as a look - a stolen glance across the library - your body pressed up against the nearest bookshelf before you know it.

A single word… a heated glance.. a whisper. The way she bites her lower lip sometimes when she’s focused. Literally anything. She could have her foot on your throat, getting ready to feast upon your flesh, and you’d be utterly dripping for her - asking her for more.

Noise

Being the reserved creature that she is, it will take a little time before she allows herself to be vocal with you. But rest assured, there will be no sweeter sound than your Lady’s voice moaning out your name into the night. As for her partners, you would do well to make sure she can hear every last delicious moan, every last needy whimper - each breath that hitches in your throat as she devours you in every way that she can. The hungry glow that illuminates the golden spheres in her eyes, every time that her name slips past your parted lips. She will want to hear every last sweet morsel that you gift her. And don’t you dare stifle a single one, lest you’re prepared to be severely punished.

Oral

There is no sweeter taste to Lady Dimitrescu than the utterly delicious juices that she can get to drip from your needy core. The all encompassing feeling of her whole mouth enveloping it. The length of her tongue as deep inside of you as it can go - the width of it deliciously filling it. Your hips bucking against her as she literally drinks you in. One strong arm, holding you up in the most exquisite of angles, making sure that you can feel every bit of her talented mouth. One orgasm after another as her tongue proves relentless inside of you.

You’ll moan loudly at just the taste of her. Her warm musk rolling over you in waves as she leans back, spreading her legs for you. A pool of juices steadily flowing from her core, showing you exactly how much she desires her needy little pet. A hand wrapped around the back of your head, pulling you in closer. Her swollen clit practically filling your mouth with its size. Juices trickling down the front of your neck, and down the landscape of your body. If heaven was a place, it would absolutely be hidden somewhere within the space between Alcina’s perfect thighs.

Pace

This will all depend on the Countess’ mood.Though, normally, the desire to take you - wreck you - is too strong for her not to completely ravage you. She will want you in a way that no other has. She will claim you as often as she can, and even then - much like your legs - she will spread those moments out as long into the night. Rough - hard - almost bone breaking - that will always be her preferred pace. Not stopping until she’s utterly wrecked beneath her. And when you get to a more intimate companionship with her, when her heart swells at the sight of you - a slight pink hue to her cheeks as she takes you into her arms - the tenderness that will come with the way she touches you, will fluster you in a completely different way. Bite marks replaced by soft kisses - scratches by lingering touches. Whispering into your ear how absolutely perfect you are as she slides the width of two fingers deep inside of you, kissing your temple sweetly.

Quickie

Your flushed body pressed back against the wall of the kitchens.. her strong hands holding you in place as she passes you in the hallway.. the primal look in her eyes as you slip her heels onto her feet, kneeling before her. There will never be a time of the day where the chance of your Lady taking you right where you stand isn’t a possibility. While it’s true she prefers to have you for as long as she can, the immense desire she has for you will, at times, spill out from her so fiercely that she’ll have no other choice than to have you - claim you - utterly wreck you. Her lips crashing heatedly against yours after one too many stolen glances. Her hands up your shirt, exploring you hungrily before diving below your panty line. The other on your throat as she stifles any delicious sounds that may get you caught. Your hair mussed, body flushed, lipstick marks across your lips and neck as you do your best to casually get back to your daily duties.

Risk

Unfortunately, due to the sheer size of her, there aren’t many places where Alcina can indulge herself in such things. While she enjoys the rush at being caught as she fucks you against every and any surface within the castle walls that she can, she rarely gets to properly fulfill any exhibitionist type kinks that she has. With that being said, she’s been known to keep the carriage doors locked when she takes you into the village. Knowing the short amount of time that she has as she hastily shoves the thickness of her fingers into your pants. Whispering in your ear that you had better ‘be quiet’, only to do everything that she can before you arrive at your destination to get you to break.

Stamina

Hours upon hours. Days upon days. There is no limit to how long your Lady can go when she has you at her utter disposal. Why, if her schedule allowed it, she would never leave her bed. She would make sure you were sufficiently spent, only to take you again and again. When you hold the heart of the one and only Alcina Dimitresu she will become almost insatiable for you. She will push back meetings just for another taste of you. She would have you at all hours of the day if she could. Nipping at your skin. Drinking you in. Placing the softest of kisses to your body as she utterly wrecks you, over... and over again.

Toys

Absolutely YES. The amount of toys that she has collected and had made for her are enough to make even the kinkiest of pets head’s spin. With a large armoire in her bedroom dedicated to nothing else. Straps in various sizes and makes, ropes spun from only the finest of fabrics, a flogger for each occasion, whips for those who are exceptionally disobedient. Any toy that your needy little human mind can think of, she has. And she will use every last one of them to utterly destroy you.

Unfair

Oh, my dear. There is absolutely no one that exists within this world that is more unfair than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. She knows the effect she has on you. She sees how you look at her - feels how wet she can make you just by muttering a few choice words. She will keep you flustered beyond belief throughout every second of the day. The size of her looming over you while you do your morning chores, whispering into your ear every last thing she’s going to do to you once your finished. She will take pride in rendering you completely speechless. The sharpness of her nails scraping over the shaved part of your head as she asks you how wet you are. Chuckling as your blush grows even darker. But don’t worry, dear. She’ll make good on all of her promises, and then some.

You will only have a chance in flustering this gorgeous woman when feelings have started to form. It will never be a teasing sentence, or a few words coated in innuendos that will cause her to blush - but your unwavering affections towards her. The way you cup her cheek fondly before kissing her, the soft look in your eyes as you tell her how absolutely stunning she is. There have only been few who have been able to disarm her, and oh, how deeply you’ll blush when you finally do.

Vocal

Being a woman who knows what she likes, she will have absolutely no problem telling you exactly what she likes and dislikes - and she also appreciates a companion who will do the same. ‘Use your words, pet’ is something that you will hear from your Lady often. She lives to bring you pleasure - relishes in it - the only discomfort she wishes to instill upon you being the bite marks that decorate your flushed skin… or the delicious heat that spills so deliciously across you whenever she forces you to stretch around her. There is no downfall in being open about what makes you feel good, for there is no other creature on earth who can make you feel as good as Lady Alcina Dimitrescu.

Wildcard

This larger than life Countess actually had quite the size kink of her own. And while there is little to know that could properly satiate this with just their fingers or tongue, she has had quite a few custom toys made for when the occasion for such indulgences arise. With you settled obediently between her thighs - her legs spread as far as they can go as she angles her hips up slightly (just to give you better access, of course). How exquisitely her oversized toy will part her lips as you begin to slowly slide it into her. An immediate blush across her body as her entrance stretches over it deliciously - her juices practically gushing out of her. You will lose all coherent thought watching this. The way her body writhes, taking as much from you as she possibly can. The gay-inducing sounds that slip from her mouth... her throat... her wet and throbbing core. Why, it’s almost enough to kill you right where you stand.

Yearning

The solitary moments that pass her during the day - those random times when you’re not by her side. The thought of you will never leave her. She will yearn for you in ways that you never even knew existed. Her creative mind playing out all the ways she could wreck you. She’ll think about how gorgeous you look when you’re blushing. The way your eyes light up whenever you truly smile. How utterly stunning you look when perched upon your knees. She can’t not be completely enamored by you. It’s in the way you laugh, how you think about her even when she’s not thinking of herself. There will be a certain kind of warmth that spills over when she thinks of you. Whether due to the way her heart swells, or the pool of juices collecting in her core at the mere thought of you - she won’t be inclined to give either up anytime soon.

Needless to say, you will yearn for you Lady 24hrs a day, even when her fingers are almost knuckle deep inside of you. Can’t seem to get enough of me hm? You needy little slut.

Zzz

No doubt about, considering how absolute she will be in making sure you are sufficiently wrecked, you will almost always be the one who falls asleep first, With the strength of her arms wrapped around you as you lay peacefully on her chest. Her fingers stroking through your hair affectionately as you drift off into the most blissful slumber of your life - wrapped in nothing but warmth of her embrace.

#resident evil village #resident evil #re8 village #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina #lady alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #re8 headcanons #resident evil headcanons #resident evil fanfic #fuck #enjoy 😏

719 notes · View notes

davidpastrsnack · 4 years

Text

it’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend - nolan patrick

a/n: here’s a friends to lovers 4+1 with our fav boy loosely inspired by daddy issues by the neighbourhood. but there’s still a splash of smut because you know me lol. hope you enjoy :)

word count: 10.5k

The first time you met Nolan you didn’t know what to think. He was polite, giving you a gentle smile and reaching out to shake your hand, but you couldn’t help but fixate on how quiet he was and his seeming lack of emotion.

Regardless of your hesitation, that was the first time of many that Nolan took care of you.

You were new to Philadelphia, moving to continue your education and expand your horizons. You had always been one to play it safe, to stay in your comfort zone, but after having your heart broken and being unexpectedly accepted to one of the top graduate programs in your field you knew it was time to challenge yourself and leave behind everything you had ever known.

Well, almost everything, aside from Aubrey, one of your best friends since that first day of kindergarten so long ago. She worked in the city, practically begging you to join her when she found out you were considering the move. Just weeks later, the second bedroom in her apartment became yours and that’s how you met him.

one

It was only your third night in Philly and you were still unpacking, a glass of wine sitting on your dresser as you dug through the remaining boxes that were seemingly never-ending. It didn’t seem like this much stuff when you were packing it, but here you were overwhelmed with all of your belongings.

You were humming along to the music, taking it one box at a time as the room slowly came together when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you called, turning to face the door.

“Woah,” Aubrey muttered, “How’s it going in here?”

“I know, I know,” you laughed, “It looks bad but I’m almost there.”

She nodded, stepping into the room and sitting on your bed, “Time for a break?”

You knew what the hopeful smile on her face meant, she had plans for the two of you.

You looked at her with hesitant eyes and she chuckled, remembering how well you knew her.

“I was thinking we could go meet some of my friends?” Aubrey continued, “I’m kind of seeing this one guy and his friends are great. They’re a lot but I think you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Aubrey, I-” You paused, “I really should finish up in here.”

“Come on, Y/N, we have all day tomorrow to finish and you need a break. I feel like I’ve barely even seen you and it’s been three days.”

You let out a laugh at her words, she was right. It felt like your life had been on hold for so long but now you had the opportunity to start fresh, to put yourself out there in a world that had no existing opinions of you.

“Fine,” you groaned, standing up from your spot on the hardwood, “But you have to help me find something to wear.”

“Deal!” Aubrey exclaimed, dragging you out of the room and into her own to go through her closet.

Just over an hour later, you were squeezed into a booth of the bar surrounded by men almost twice your size. Aubrey failed to mention that the guy she was seeing, but not dating as she vehemently claimed, was a Flyer and so were his friends.

You didn’t know what to expect from the group, but it didn’t take long for you to conclude that they were sweethearts, especially Travis, Aubrey’s “friend.” After introducing you to each of them, it felt like you had always been a part of the gang.

The beer and conversation were flowing, the bellowing laughs coming from the table practically feeling the air of the entire bar. You quickly fell into the banter, fitting in right away after growing up with brothers.

“There he is!” You suddenly heard Kevin shout from next to you, “Took you long enough, Patty.”

You looked up from your drink to see the man you could only assume to be Patty, his tall frame towering over you as you sat on the edge of the booth. He was dressed in all black, and his hair was long and frankly, unkempt as it curled around his ears. Even in the dim light of the bar, you could make out his light eyes, the blue piercing you as he finally met your gaze from his seat directly across from yours.

“Nolan, this is my friend Y/N,” Aubrey started, “She just moved in with me.”

Nolan reached out his hand across the table which you happily met, secretly hoping he couldn’t feel how clammy you had gotten since he walked in. He softly smiled as your hands touched, the corners of his mouth barely lifting but just enough.

“Nice to meet you,” he mumbled.

“You too,” you replied, flickering your eyes to the other end of the table before you caught yourself staring.

You were right away distracted by something Travis was chirping Claude for from this morning’s practice, but something about the man sitting just a few feet away from you was still consuming your thoughts.

You were pretty sure he had already decided that he didn’t like you. He had barely said a word aside from his initial pleasantries, but from then on it was almost like he wasn’t even acknowledging your presence. You didn’t know why you even cared, but there was something about his presence that made you on edge.

“I’m going to get another one,” you blurted out, everyone’s attention shifting to you.

“I’ll come with,” Aubrey declared.

“I’m good, stay,” you responded, giving her a knowing look. She was practically sitting in Travis’s lap, her hands wrapped around his neck while his eyes were stuck on her like she was the only one in the room. Not dating, my ass, you thought to yourself.

You slid off the cushion and headed towards the bar, the air already feeling lighter the further away from the group you got. You loved them, they were great, but it was just so much new at once. You needed a breather.

It was a packed Friday night and you knew it would be a while before you got your drink, so you sat down on the first available stool you saw. You caught the bartender's attention right away, but she was clearly swamped. You sent her a reassuring nod, telling her to take her time. She smiled right back at you, evidently grateful for your patience.

After what felt like barely a minute of waiting, you felt a body slide next to yours, the scent of cheap cologne overwhelming you as you braced yourself for what was about to happen.

“Hi there,” he spoke, leaning his weight against the bar top as he boxed you in.

“Hi,” you sighed. To put it simply, you were not in the mood.

“You got a name?”

“I do,” you chuckled in disbelief, turning your body away from his as your eyes scanned the room for anyone familiar. Which of course there wasn’t.

“A snappy one, alright,” he spoke, his hot breath fanning over your neck, “Well I’m Brett, what are you drinking?”

“Nothing,” you snapped.

“Oh c’mon, let me buy you a drink,” he continued, either not picking up on your hints or purposely ignoring them.

“I’m really all set.”

Just before he was about to open his mouth to speak once again, you felt his hand rest flat against your back, your body arching away from him immediately at the contact.

“Do not fucking touch her.”

The deep voice echoed in front of you, your vision clouded as your mind raced in a million directions.

“Listen, man, I got this.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” you heard, the vibrations of his voice running straight through your body.

Nolan.

You may have just met him, but that was a body and voice you couldn’t forget.

You had no idea what overcame you, but before you could process what you were doing you wrapped your arms around his torso. Nolan immediately reciprocated, his arm falling across your shoulders and pulling you close to his frame.

“Just leave,” Nolan asserted, “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. It’s already embarrassing enough that you can’t take no for an answer.”

Your body relaxed against his, Nolan’s words calming your worst fears right away. From your vantage point, you assumed Nolan easily had at least six inches and thirty pounds on him. That seemed to be enough for him, backing away with a faulty glare and disappearing into the crowd.

“Nolan, I-” you stuttered, not knowing what to say, “Thank you,” you finally got out, your voice barely loud enough to hear over the hum of voices.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, his aura still cold.

You were so caught up in the shock of the moment that you hadn’t realized you were still holding each other, and right away you dropped your arm from his waist. Nolan did the same, awkwardly moving to sit on the stool next to you and flag the bartender.

You missed the warmth of his body right away, the spicy scent of his skin in stark contrast to the Axe you could only assume the other one was wearing. You swore you could still feel the ripple of his abs beneath his t-shirt on your fingertips. It was silent for a minute, both of you trying to come up with the right words.

“I really can’t thank you enough. Let me buy this round,” you pleaded, your eyes locking with his.

“Y/N,” Nolan started, your face flushing as your name fell from his lips, “I’m buying.”

You smiled up at him, nodding before looking back down in hopes of hiding the flush you felt creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“Can I be honest, Nolan?” You questioned.

“Shoot.”

“Do you not like me? Did I do something? I wasn’t expecting that from you of all people-” you rambled until Nolan cut you off.

“First of all, I would have done that even if I hated you. But no, I like you, Y/N. A friend of a friend of TK’s is a friend of mine.”

You laughed at the last part before you could even process the first. Nolan’s cheeks went red, clearly embarrassed at his cliché phrasing but it didn’t matter how badly he made a fool of himself as long as you were smiling. The way your eyes scrunched and your nose turned up while you laughed was enough to make him forget the day he had.

Your laughter was interrupted by your drinks, the woman leaving you with a knowing smile before she turned away. Nolan and you both stood up ready to head back to the table before he stopped you.

“Friends?” He asked, putting his hand out in front of himself.

“Friends,” you agreed with a grin, shaking his hand before walking back to the group together.

two

You dreaded first days.

No matter how old you got, the anxiety of walking into an unfamiliar room full of unfamiliar faces never lessened. But you were ready, you reminded yourself, putting your head up and walking to the classroom like you had been there a hundred times before.

By the time you were walking out after the 90 minutes were up, your heart was pounding and you could feel the tears pricking the back of your eyes as you ran out of the building, not even bothering to introduce yourself to anyone.

The walk from the university back to your apartment was a blur. You couldn’t believe you had made such a poor first impression. You thought you were prepared, you had your notebook ready and all the right textbooks in order, but you somehow missed that there was an assignment due on the very first day.

As you rushed through the busy streets of the city, dodging people left and right, your mind raced back to that room.

“Ms. Y/L/N, can you please give your thoughts on the first case study?” Your professor questioned, intently watching you as your panic set in.

Your heart began to race and your palms sweat as you struggled to find the words to say that you hadn’t done the reading. This had never happened to you before, you were an A+ student for your entire life, almost unhealthily so. You couldn’t remember the last time you had missed an assignment, it just wasn’t something you did.

“Alright, then. Anyone else who actually checked the syllabus have something to say?”

Your professor's words were stuck in your head, playing over and over again when you finally reached your building. Now that you were so close to being in the comfort of your own space you could feel your wheels spinning, the stress and emotion overtaking your body.

Your hands shook as you tried to unlock the door, your body pushing through the threshold when you finally got it open.

“Aubrey?” You called as you walked through the hallway. She had known you for so long and always knew what to do to calm you down. But instead of Aubrey’s bright voice welcoming you back, you were met with silence.

“Where are you?” You muttered under your breath, your voice shaking as the tears threatened to spill over any second. As you turned the corner into the living room, you found three bodies spread across the couch, none of whom belonged to Aubrey.

“Oh,” you sputtered out, surprised to see Travis, Kevin, and Nolan watching a game.

“Y/N!” Travis called out, his infectious smile almost making your tight-lipped frown fade, “Aubrey just ran out for something but she should be back soon.”

You could feel Nolan’s gaze burning into you. You did your best to avoid his eye contact in hopes of hiding your current state from him. He had been nothing but kind to you, but you still felt so exposed standing in front of him, suddenly insecure about your outfit.

“I’m just going to go,” you whispered, pointing down the hall to your room. You felt horrible just ignoring them like that, but you knew you didn’t have it in you to keep up with them right now.

Your bag fell out of your hands almost instantly as soon as the door to your room clicked shut, the sound of your laptop hitting the hardwood floor making you cringe. You collapsed on your bed face first, the emotion you had been holding back for what felt like forever overwhelming you. Your body wracked in sobs as you replayed your embarrassment in a seemingly endless loop.

Nolan knew something was wrong the second he saw you. He may have only met you just a few days ago, but after growing up with two sisters he recognized the signs right away. He had no idea what was wrong, but he did know that you were barely holding it together.

Your head snapped up when you heard a series of soft knocks on your door, “Aubrey?” You asked, your voice rising with hope.

“No, uh, it’s Nolan.”

Your face fell when you heard his deep voice through the wood. You barely knew Nolan, he couldn’t see you like this. You paused for a moment wondering if he would just leave if you didn’t respond, but you could see his shadow through the bottom crack of your door, his feet were planted and didn’t show any signs of moving any time soon.

You silently groaned and picked yourself up, not even bothering to look in the mirror before opening the door because you knew it was not going to a pretty sight regardless. You hastily wiped underneath your eyes, the black of your mascara flaking right off your tear-stained skin. This wasn’t exactly how you wanted the new boy in your life to see you right after meeting you, but you just were friends, right?

“What, Nolan?” You sighed when you finally opened the door.

You didn’t mean to be so stark, but it just came out. His presence overwhelmed you just like it had at the bar a few nights ago. He was leaning against the door frame with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. The backward hat resting atop his head flattered him perfectly, drawing attention to the tufts of his brown hair curling around his ears and neck.

Nolan stood up straight as soon as he saw you, his eyes softening when his suspicions were confirmed: you had been crying.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he mumbled, his eyes never leaving your own.

The tension in your shoulders released as you looked up at him. He didn’t say anything else, just tilting his head down towards you as he continued to scan your face for any signs of how you were feeling. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something about Nolan that made you feel so safe, so secure, like as long as you were with him you could avoid your demons.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No you’re not,” Nolan rebutted, raising his eyebrows as if he was challenging you to lie to him again.

You didn’t say anything, but rather you moved your body to the side and ushered him into your room. Nolan happily obliged, awkwardly standing as he took in his surroundings. Your room was just as he expected, it was minimal, just like his. You didn’t like clutter, everything had a place. It was one way you tried to control the chaos that was your life.

“You can sit,” you spoke, breaking the silence.

Nolan nodded and sat next to you at the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail along his leg, the way his thighs stretched the fabric of his sweatpants making your cheeks flush.

“It was my first day at this new program I’m in and it didn’t go well, that’s all,” you finally sputtered out, staring down at your lap as your hands fidgeted. “I’ve never been good at first impressions,” you added, a gentle laugh escaping your lip as you thought back to your first time meeting Nolan.

“Listen, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Nolan encouraged, “You seem like a pretty great person.”

You scoffed at his attempt to make you feel better, your emotions creeping their way back into your head.

“It was-” you paused, using every fiber within your being to try not to lose it in front of him, “It was bad.”

“C’mere,” Nolan whispered, turning on the bed to face you more and opening his arms, practically begging for your embrace.

You shook your head, closing your eyes as the fresh tears started burning. You were so selective in who you exposed your most vulnerable state to, and you barely knew Nolan. But despite this, you felt such an instant connection with him, and if his overt kindness was any indication, he felt the same way.

You let your final guard down, leaning back and curling into Nolan’s frame. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against him as one hand moved up to your head to rub soft circles into your hair.

“Go ahead and cry,” he hummed, his body gently rocking you back and forth.

You melted at his touch, your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck, the muted orange of his Flyers hoodie the last thing you saw before your eyes shut in sobs. His scent was overwhelming, the mix of his body wash and the leftover cologne lingering on his hoodie flooding your senses. You felt as if you disappeared in his grasp, like the world around you vanished and nothing else mattered.

You didn’t even know how much time had passed, but Nolan didn’t move an inch. He held you like it was the only thing he had to do all day. Once the tears stopped falling and your breathing steadied, you pulled back, instantly flooded with embarrassment.

“Wow,” you chuckled, wiping your cheeks, “I am so sorry, Nolan, I don’t know what happened I just-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, “We’re friends, remember?” He teased, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle smile as he bumped your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you laughed.

“I think we were planning on grabbing some food,” Nolan mumbled, his hand scratching the back of his neck as he spoke, “If you want to come.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Come on, you’re coming. If I have to put up with those two out there so do you.”

You rolled your eyes, but it was the least you could do after what he had just done for you.

“Give me five minutes to look less dead.”

Nolan smiled as you agreed, slipping out of the room so you could change and freshen up.

“What the fuck was that?” Nolan was bombarded by Kevin as he sat back down.

“Nothing,” Nolan mumbled, not in the mood to be questioned about things he didn’t even know the answer to.

“She let you go in there?” Aubrey asked, just having gotten back.

“Yes?” He responded, confused by her question.

Aubrey didn’t bother getting into it and changed the subject instead, but inside she was scheming. She knew you, how closed off you were, but here you were opening up to Nolan like you’ve known him for years. Nothing made Aubrey happier than watching this friendship bloom, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was potential for more.

three

Team galas usually didn’t bother Nolan, it was part of the job, but tonight it was the last place he wanted to be. His tux felt too tight, the stuffy conversation with potential sponsors was putting him to sleep, and his date was, to be frank, insufferable.

Nolan had no problem going to an event without a plus one, he and TK were usually the two single guys spending their time causing trouble, but now that Aubrey was in the picture Kevin had decided he had seen enough. So, despite Nolan begging him to leave him alone, Kevin set him up with one of his friends from Boston.

She was just as Kevin described, beautiful and smart, but that was about all. Nolan was calm and reserved, at least until he was comfortable with someone, but she was the complete opposite. Her personality filled the entire room and although he admired her confidence, Nolan was exhausted. He felt like he couldn’t be himself, like he had to work to match her energy.

After what felt like hours of entertaining her and Kevin, Nolan made his escape to the bar. It was the first moment to himself he had, the relief immediately flooding him as he leaned against the counter. He titled his glass to the bartender, silently requesting a refill when he felt his phone buzzing in the pocket of his suit pants.

Nolan begrudgingly pulled the phone, wondering who it could possibly be. The entire team was with him and it was unlike his family to call him on a Saturday night. But when he saw your name flashing across the screen, his whole demeanor shifted.

“Nolan!” He heard you exclaim, your voice like a breath of fresh air.

“Y/N?” He questioned. You had never called him out of the blue like this before. Nolan nodded to the bartender thanking him before taking his drink and walking out to the empty hallway so he could hear you better. “Everything okay?”

It wasn’t really. You had just come back home from a date, one Aubrey practically forced you to go on. You pleaded to her that you were fine, that you weren’t ready to start dating in the city yet, but regardless, you found yourself sitting across from one of her coworkers at a restaurant downtown.

There was nothing wrong with him, he was nice, but it was evident to you before your drinks were even ordered that this wasn’t going to work. You pushed through the meal, putting on your best fake smile and pretending to laugh at his forced humor. You politely declined his offer to walk you home, instead opting to get an Uber so you could get out of your dress as soon as possible.

Now you were home, your sweats on and hair up with a glass of wine in your hand. The glass quickly turned into almost the entire bottle, drowning your sorrows of another failed date with your favorite red. That’s when you made the mistake of picking up your phone, your fingers scrolling through your contacts until you found the one name you knew would be able to distract you.

“I’m great. I mean I’m not, but it’s fine,” you rambled, your words slurred as you spoke.

For once it was you mumbling and not Nolan. He didn’t know what, but his gut was telling him that something was wrong, he could practically smell the alcohol on your tongue through the phone. After a long pause of trying to figure out what to say, his thoughts were interrupted.

“Come over?” You whispered, “I’m so sick of being alone.”

Nolan’s heart dropped at your words, his eyes blinking shut as he pondered his next move. His eyes scanned the ballroom, finally landing on his date. She was sitting at their table, Nolan’s empty seat sticking out like a sore thumb, laughing at whatever story of his college days Kevin was regurgitating. He would feel like an ass if he just left, and he would be lying if he said the prospect of an easy lay hadn’t crossed his mind tonight, but you were more important.

“Give me twenty.”

Since calling Nolan you had migrated from your bed to the couch, a blanket sprawled across your body while you laid horizontal. The only light in the room was from the TV as one of your comfort movies played. You were barely paying attention, instead zoning out and staring at the lit-up city around you from the window.

Your mindless thoughts were interrupted by a series of knocks on the door. You threw the blanket off of your body and stood up, slowly dragging your feet across the hardwood as you made your way. But you were nowhere near prepared for what you saw as soon as you opened the door.

Nolan towered over you in the door frame. He was wearing a suit, the soft, grey fabric clinging to his thighs and shoulders perfectly. His long hair was slicked back and tucked behind his ears. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed you instantly, the warm aroma making you want to melt into him. One hand was resting in his pant pocket, while the other was carrying a take-out bag from one of your favorite spots.

“Hi,” Nolan quietly muttered, breaking the silence.

His deep voice broke the trance you were in, and that’s when the realization hit you.

“I completely forgot you guys had that thing tonight,” you blurted, the alcohol in your bloodstream clogging your train of thought, “I am so sorry. You have to go back, I feel horrible.”

Your hands came up to your face, hiding your embarrassment. How could you forget? You spent hours this morning helping Aubrey pick out her dress.

“Y/N,” Nolan cooed, his large hands gently pulling your own off of your face, “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Nolan didn’t let you get another word out before he was pushing past your body. He wasn’t even enjoying himself at the event and the last thing he wanted to do was go back.

It didn’t long for the two of you to finish the food, opting to head back to the couch and ignore the many empty containers for now.

“I’m never going on a date ever again,” you slurred, “I don’t even want to look at a man ever again.”

Despite trying to be quiet, Nolan couldn’t hide his chuckle. He had heard similar frustrations from his two sisters growing up. He had been around endless assholes throughout his life, he knew how exhausting it must have been to try to find a decent one.

“Can’t blame you,” he mumbled.

Your body slumped against the back of the couch, your eyes slipping shut as the wine and food started to lull you into a sleepy haze. Nolan scanned your face, a soft smile creeping onto his face as he watched your chest gently rise and fall with each breath. Before he could catch himself, he lifted his hand and pushed back the hair that had fallen in your face, tucking it behind your ear.

In that moment Nolan knew that he was fucked.

Never before had he dropped everything for a girl as he did for you tonight. But he also had never connected with someone like he did with you. You didn’t force him to be something he wasn’t, there was no pressure to put on an act. It just felt natural with you. But your words from just a few minutes before lingered in the back of his head. You made it clear that you weren’t looking for anything right now, it only took one miserable date to remind you of that. So Nolan pulled his hand away, trying to ignore the burning of your skin against his fingertips as they trailed across your soft cheek.

You were friends. Just friends.

You had no idea how much time had passed, but suddenly you felt yourself stir awake, your eyes peeling open to find yourself tucked into Nolan’s side. His body was warm below yours, his arm resting across your shoulders holding you in place as you lay against his chest. From your peripheral vision, you could see his suit jacket on one of the couch cushions, the soft material of his button-down rubbing on your cheek.

You had two options. You could either acknowledge that you awkwardly fell asleep on him in your drunken state, or you could pretend that you never woke up and continue to enjoy the comfort of his embrace.

Needless to say, you chose the latter.

But you must have dozed off again because the next time you woke up you were being carried into your bedroom. Your arms were wrapped tightly across Nolan’s neck, the tips of your fingers naturally lifting to twirl the tufts of his hair.

“Shhh, I got you,” Nolan whispered as he felt you move, just before he laid you down onto your bed, “I’ll be right back.”

Nolan hastily left the room, leaving you to bask in the memory of his warmth as your head fell back against your pillow. Within just a few seconds he was back, placing a cool glass of water on your nightstand table. But almost just as fast as he came back, he was leaving again.

“Stay,” you murmured, watching him pause at the outline of your door.

“I- I got the couch.”

“Okay,” you responded, trying to hide your disappointment.

Nolan visibly cringed the second your door was closed, his head falling to his lap once he sat down. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with you. The thought of holding you beneath the sheets and feeling your soft skin in contrast to his rough hands made him dizzy. But the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. You weren’t sober enough to say he could stay, and there was no chance in hell Nolan was going to risk scaring you off. So he took the couch, laying across the cushions with his eyes locked on your door until his eyelids gave in to his exhaustion.

four

It was finally Friday, another week in the books.

Your classes were taking more out of you than you had expected, the hours of reading and note-taking blending together as you finally closed your last tab. You had no plans for the night, and you honestly couldn’t be happier about it. A hot shower, takeout, and falling asleep early encompassed your perfect night recently.

Just as you were about to get in the shower, you were distracted by your phone ringing. You picked it up, surprised to see it was Kevin calling.

“Hi, Kevin,” you spoke, a slight edge to your words. You adored Kevin, he was an absolute sweetheart, but sometimes you just didn’t have the patience.

“What are you doing tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, “Nothing.”

“Incorrect, you’re coming over and hanging out with me and Pat.”

“I am?” You laughed, taken aback by Kevin’s forwardness.

“Teeks and Aubrey are coming too, come on, Y/N,” he continued.

You knew you weren’t getting out of this without a real excuse, no matter how much you wanted to stay in. You hadn’t seen Nolan since the night you embarrassed yourself, the cringe of drunk dialing him after a bad date had yet to escape your memory.

“What time?”

“Uh- Let’s say 7.”

“Alright, Kev. See you later,” you hung up the phone, throwing it back on your bed before getting in the shower.

As you approached the boys’ apartment door, it was quieter than you expected it to be. Aubrey said she was already with Travis and would meet you there, so you were arriving alone. You assumed they would already have been there by now, but you ignored the silence and knocked on the door.

Just a few seconds later, the door swung open and you were face to face with Nolan. Your eyes widened when you saw him, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his bare torso staring at you. You quickly composed yourself, using every ounce of self-control within you to avoid trailing your gaze across his broad shoulders and down his chest, the curves and divots of his abs making your mouth water.

“Sorry,” Nolan mumbled, his cheeks flushing even redder than they usually were, “I thought you were Kevin, he always forgets his keys. Come in.”

You followed Nolan into the apartment, the muscles of his back rippling as his arms swung. You sat down on the couch, awkwardly waiting while he disappeared into his room. He came back just a few seconds later, his body now hidden behind a wrinkly t-shirt.

“Where is everyone?” You questioned, your body stiff as Nolan relaxed into the cushion next to you.

“Not sure,” he mumbled, the red of his cheeks lingering, “Kev said you were coming with Aubrey?”

Your face scrunched in confusion, “He told me she was coming here with Travis.”

Nolan then pulled his phone out and started typing a message to Kevin, desperate to figure out where he was. For some reason being here with you alone was making him nervous, there was an awkward energy in the air that had never been there before.

Nolan was reaching for the TV remote, about to ask you if you wanted to put something on when his phone sounded.

Kevin: You’re welcome

Now it was Nolan’s turn to furrow his eyebrows, the boy even more confused by Kevin’s message.

Kevin: We couldn’t watch you two anymore please just do something

Kevin: I’ll be out all night

Kevin: Don’t forget protection!

Of course. Of course, this little miscommunication was, in fact, a setup. But the worst part was that Nolan knew Kevin was right. No matter how hard he tried, he had been pining over you since that very first night. And now here you two were in an empty apartment with enough sexual tension to last the year.

“No one’s coming, are they?” You broke the silence, snapping Nolan out of his trance.

He threw his phone to the side as a slight smile crept across his stern face, “Nope,” he chuckled.

If you thought there was tension before, it didn’t even compare to what you felt now. Since meeting Nolan you were under the impression that your secretly harbored feelings for him were just that, a secret, but apparently, you weren’t as subtle as you thought. This had Aubrey written all over it, and you knew Travis was under her spell and would do anything to help her, and bonus points for chirping Nolan simultaneously. It was the elephant in the room, your mutual feelings still not being spoken but you both knew you had been called out by the people who knew you best.

“What are you thinking about?” Nolan whispered, the rough hum of his voice sending chills down your spine.

You couldn’t get even a single word out, your thoughts and feelings jumbling in your mind. After all this time the perfect opportunity was finally handed to you on a silver platter, but you still couldn’t do it.

Nolan could sense your hesitation, your close proximity and sweet scent clouding his consciousness.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking about,” he murmured, turning his body so he was facing you.

Your eyes had yet to leave your lap, your focus stuck on the rip of your jeans. You jumped when you felt his warm touch on your lower thigh, the warmth of his calloused hands making your heart rate rise even though the thick denim. His size was intoxicating and he made you feel like putty as he leaned closer to you.

“Y/N,” Nolan mumbled, his voice deeper than ever before.

You finally lifted your gaze, turning your head up to look at him. His baby blue eyes were piercing yours, the contact lighting a fire within you. Every reasonable thought in your head was telling you to pull away, to grab your bag and politely excuse yourself. You weren’t ready for a relationship, you had barely put yourself back together after your last heartbreak and Philly was supposed to be different. But as you sat here, your face just inches away from Nolan’s, you gave in to your desire.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you connected your lips with his, immediately sighing in relief as his soft pout worked perfectly against you. You hastily swung your hips over and seated yourself on Nolan’s lap, an eager groan escaping him when your body rolled into his. His hands splayed across your hips, moving to circle your ass as he helped you grind deeper into his already hardening length.

Nolan trailed his lips down your jaw, nibbling and sucking on the plane of your neck. You knew he was leaving marks, but in the moment you couldn’t care less, the euphoria of his touch being the only comprehensive feeling.

“Please,” you whined, tightening your grip on his long locks, “Nolan.”

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had ignited you as Nolan had. He had barely even touched you and you were nearly certain you had already soaked through your panties, withering in his lap desperate for more.

“Now she has something to say,” Nolan teased, whispering into the shell of your ear. He gave you no warning before he was standing up, holding the back of your legs as you instinctually wrapped them around his waist.

Nolan gently tossed you on his bed, pausing to pull his shirt off before he was climbing on top of you. You were in a state of bliss, finally able to admire his frame shamelessly and without fear of getting caught. He continued to attack your neck, leaving mark after mark behind in his wake. You whimpered impatiently as his lips worked your sensitive skin, but Nolan was set on taking his time. He didn’t know if he would ever have you like this again and he was going to savor every second of it.

But you decided to take matters into your own hands, pushing his frame off of yours and pulling your sweater over your head. You grabbed Nolan’s face again, cupping both of his cheeks as your lips met again. He made quick work of your bra, unclasping it with ease behind your back and tossing it across the room.

“Fuck, you’re stunning,” he groaned, pausing to take you in. Your hair was splayed across the pillow, your cheeks flushed while your chest heaved up and down with heavy breathing. His praise went straight to your core, clenching around nothing as you grew more and more desperate for him.

Nolan wasted no more time, finally making his way down your torso before reaching the hem of your pants. His fingertips slowly ran beneath the fabric, stopping only to look up at you. Your eyes locked and you frantically nodded, understanding that he was waiting for your permission before continuing.

“Words, Y/N,” Nolan hummed into your thigh, his order gentle but firm.

“Yes,” you breathed out, “Fuck, yes.”

Nolan did as you said, unzipping your jeans and sliding them down your legs. He almost lost his balance on the mattress when he saw you laying before him, the pink lace resting across your hips being the only thing keeping him from you. Nolan settled himself between your legs, hooking both of them over his shoulders as his hot breath fanned over your pussy.

Nolan placed a soft kiss to your lace-covered clit, basking in your reaction as you let out an embarrassingly loud moan and your hands flew to his head, tangling in his hair. Your hips jerked up into the air, desperate for more friction. Nolan laid his thick forearm across your waist, his weight halting all of your movements and holding you at his mercy.

“Nolan, please just fuck me,” you begged, the suspense too much to handle as you felt yourself drip down the crease of your thigh.

“All in good time, baby,” he cooed, pulling your panties to the side and finally connecting with your throbbing pussy.

You cried out as his tongue flicked your clit back and forth, the pleasure only magnifying when he sucked it between his teeth. Your hands were locked with an iron grip in the roots of his hair, holding on like your life depended on it. Nolan hummed against your core as he continued to taste you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your body.

Suddenly Nolan pulled back, but before you could protest you heard ripping. A gasp left your lips when you realized what he had done, the mangled lace of your panties now laying on his floor. You wanted to yell at him, complain that those were your favorite, but before you could get a word out he was back at work, this time fucking his tongue in and out of you.

Your head fell back against the pillow, your mouth opening in a silent scream when you felt him slide two fingers inside while his mouth circled your clit again. Nolan curled his fingers against your sweet spot and you knew you were done for, your back arching off the mattress as you combusted with your orgasm.

Nolan milked you through your high, his tongue flattening against your clit as his head shook and his fingers kept their pace. He finally slowed down as he felt you come down, pulling back to watch you shake as the last waves of pleasure rolled through your body. He slipped his fingers out of your fluttering pussy, only to bring them to his mouth and suck your juices clean.

“You’re really good at that,” you stammered, just now coming back to your senses after almost blacking out.

Nolan laughed, kissing his way back up your body until you two were face to face again. You couldn’t resist pulling him down and crashing your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

“I’m good at other things too,” he smirked, tucking your hair behind your ear, just as he had done last week, except this time he didn’t have to hide it. The soft action made your heart flutter, but his words made something else flutter.

“Give me your best, Patrick,” you challenged.

“Your wish is my command, baby.”

Nolan pushed off his arms and stood up, hurriedly stripping himself of his sweats and boxers in one fell swoop. A whimper escaped your lips when you heard the sound of his cock slapping against his stomach, your pupils dilated as your eyes trailed down his thighs admiring his tattoos.

Reaching across you to get a condom from his nightstand, Nolan was surprised when you plucked it right from his hand. You tore open the foil and slowly rolled the condom onto him, a small smile spreading across your face when his hips buckled into your hand at your touch.

You may have been embarrassingly weak for him, but he was just as weak for you.

Nolan shifted on the bed so he was hovering over your body, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth. Your lips moved in sync with one another, the pure lust filling the room dictating every movement. He felt you grow more and more impatient, your body stirring beneath his as he finally pulled away.

Taking one last look at you spread out before him, waiting for him to touch you, Nolan directed his attention back to between your legs. He locked eyes with you before collecting the salvia in his mouth, harshly spitting on your pussy. The moan you let out was only amplified when he started teasing you even more, dragging the head of his cock through your soaking folds.

“Nolan,” you whined, the last letter of his name prolonged as you begged, your entire body tensing while he tapped your already so sensitive clit.

“Shhh,” he cooed, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against your hip, “Got to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Before you could get in another word of protest, Nolan was pushing one of your legs into your chest and sliding inside. Your mouth fell open as he slowly bottomed out, the sensation of him filling you paralyzing. A string of deep swears left his lips as he felt you already clenching around him.

After letting you adjust, Nolan started rocking his hips, quickly finding his rhythm. You didn’t have a single thought in your head, the way he hit your sweet spot inside and ground against your clit making you dizzy.

Nolan had never been in such bliss. He could never have imagined how good you would feel wrapped around him, your walls still pulsating from your first high as he slid in and out. The way your name sounded falling from his lips was pure ecstasy, his innate possessiveness in full drive. Your nails dug into his back, dragging burning lines into his skin that he knew he would be tormented about tomorrow in the locker room but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the way your bodies fit together in perfect harmony right this moment.

You could feel yourself growing close within mere minutes, Nolan’s relentless thrusts giving you no mercy. He could tell you were almost there by the way you were fluttering around him, along with the mindless sounds of pleasure escaping your lips getting louder and louder.

“That’s it,” Nolan encouraged in your ear, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

Between his hot breath against your tingling skin and his plunging thrusts, Nolan had you seeing stars.

“Nolan, Nolan,” you whined.

You swore you almost blacked out, your vision going blank as he fucked you through your high. He wasn’t far behind you, the clenching of your pussy egging him on until he finally let go, his hips stuttering and groans filling the air as his head fell into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” Nolan sighed, letting his heart rate steady as he laid above you, resting the majority of his weight on his forearms.

“Yeah,” you responded with a breathy laugh, your mind still blank as you came down.

Nolan stayed there for a few minutes before finally sitting up, cringing as you whimpered when he pulled out. Your eyes slipped shut, but you could hear him shifting around the room. After pulling on a pair of fresh boxers and dampening a towel, Nolan gently cleaned you up, biting back a smirk each time you shivered at his touch. He disappeared again, this time returning with a shirt in hand, urging you to sit up so he could help you pull the soft fabric over your head.

You had every intention of getting dressed and leaving, but you just couldn’t find the energy to remove yourself from his warm bed. The sheets that smelled like him enveloped you, and now his t-shirt was draped over your shoulders begging you to stay. Nolan slid next to you, his body cradling yours from behind as he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you impossibly close.

“Sleep well, Y/N,” Nolan hummed into your neck as he settled in.

“Goodnight,” you managed to get out, the shame of what you had just done starting to spiral in your head.

You made a mistake. Nolan was good, so good, and he deserved more than you could give him. Your last relationship ended in disaster, leaving you broken and abandoning the idea of finding love ever again. Regardless of what you told your friends and family, it was what drove you from home. Then came Nolan, he was the definition of kind. Even when he barely knew you he did whatever he could to protect you. That kind of guy deserves someone who’s got it together, not whatever mess you were. You couldn’t believe you let your attraction to him get the best of you, and now here you were, pressed against his sleeping frame as he held you.

Everything inside of you was telling you to leave. It was too much, the eventual pain of whatever this was ending was overwhelming. You could hear Nolan snoring behind you, the sound of his contentment almost bringing tears to your eyes. Gently lifting his arm from its spot across your waist, you slid from underneath his grasp. It was nearly impossible to find your clothes in the dark, but you managed to do so without making too much noise. Nolan didn’t even stir as you moved around him, folding the shirt he gave you and placing it on the nightstand.

Just as you reached for the door, you felt yourself pause. Don’t do it, Y/N. Don’t do it. But you couldn’t resist, slowly turning to take in what you were leaving behind.

Nolan was passed out, his body leaning towards the pillow where you once laid your head and his arm laying flat as if he was still holding you. You could make out the redness of his cheeks in the dim light, his eyelashes curling down onto his cheeks. Your heart broke as you looked at him, but you knew it was what you had to do. He deserved the world, which was much more than you were able to give him. Without giving it another second of thought, you opened the door as quietly as possible and made your escape.

+ one

It had been over three weeks since you last spoke to Nolan.

You couldn’t handle facing him just yet, so you did what you knew best: shutting out the people that cared about you the most. You ignored every single one of his calls and texts, eventually muting his number when it became too much. You replayed what you imagined he looked and felt like that morning, waking up to a cold, empty bed. It was heartbreaking, but you stayed firm in your decision. As long as you didn’t have to see his face you would be fine.

But of course, Aubrey had different plans for you.

Since that night, you had been more distant from her than ever before. You left the apartment early in the morning, spending your day in class and bouncing between different coffee shops while working. You kept up appearances when you returned in the evening, saying hello and asking her how her day was, but practically nothing else. You made an early exit to your room, citing homework or lack of sleep as your excuse. But she knew you better than anyone else, it was no secret something was wrong. Much to your content, you could only assume that Nolan was keeping your secret as well, knowing that if he told anyone on the team you would be getting an earful from her.

But Aubrey had decided that she was done letting you sulk about whatever it was you were so clearly upset by. The Flyers had been away for almost two weeks and tonight was their first game back home. Thanks to Travis, she had two tickets in hand ready for the two of you.

Before you had even shut the apartment door behind you after arriving home, she was jumping up to greet you.

“Hey!” Aubrey exclaimed as you walked in, “We’re going out tonight.”

You just stared at her confused, knowing damn well you had no intention of going anywhere. “Hey,” you started, “I- I don’t think so, I have a lot to do.”

“No, you don’t. Listen, I don’t know what is going on with you but I’m sick of watching you wallow in whatever it is. I’ve barely talked to you in almost a month, you’re coming with me,” Aubrey snapped. If there was one thing about having such an old friend it was that she always gave it to you straight.

“Where?” You begrudgingly inquired.

“Nope, it’s a surprise,” she answered. If her inkling was correct, whatever had you in this funk had something to do with a certain Flyers centerman and she was not risking you ditching because of it.

“Fine,” you groaned.

It wasn’t news to you that you had been a horrible friend recently. Despite the anxiety that came with breaking your current routine, maybe a night with Aubrey was just what you needed to take your mind off everything.

A few hours had passed, and you were sitting in the back of an Uber watching the city pass you by. Aubrey maintained the anonymity of the destination, ignoring all of your pleas for even just a hint. But there were some things that she couldn’t control.

Your stomach dropped when you saw where the car was heading towards, the large Wells Fargo Center plastered on the side of the building cluing you in. Of course, you thought, how could you not have known. You had so strictly blocked Nolan and the entire team from your mind that didn’t think to look at their schedule, but now it all made sense.

“Aubrey, no,” you stated, your voice already shaking as you got closer and closer.

“What the hell happened?” she snapped back, finally getting confirmation that your funk was related to Nolan.

“Nothing, nothing happened. I just don’t want to go,” you rebutted, “I’m not in the mood to see everyone, okay?”

“You don’t have to, we’re sitting alone,” she responded, turning her phone on and showing you the location of the tickets. As she promised, they were nowhere near the family boxes.

You didn’t say anything else, instead choosing silence as the car pulled up to the entrance. You both thanked the driver before quickly exiting, a long, awkward silence falling over the two of you as you entered the arena.

You could do this, you told yourself while adjusting in your seat. You could sit through one game, you didn’t even have to see or talk to anyone. If it would make Aubrey happy, you could suck it up and sit down. The two of you had still barely said a word to each other since arriving, and you could see the disappointment on her face. Deciding it was time to get over it, you put your arm around Aubrey, smiling as you instantly felt her relax and place her head on your shoulder. Neither of you said anything, but after knowing each other for so long, you didn’t have to. She knew what you meant.

You didn’t know what to expect, but the second you saw Nolan step onto the ice you were flooded with emotion. He looked tired, like he hadn’t been sleeping much or well, and your heart dropped at the thought that you may have been the reason why. You still were firm in your decision to avoid anything serious right now, but you knew you went about it in the completely wrong way. Nolan was the closest thing you had ever met to an angel, but you treated him like a random one night stand from the bar you barely knew. The guilt had overtaken you over the past few weeks, and seeing him in the flesh wasn’t helping.

It was a relatively uneventful game, the rebuilding Red Wings visiting and not giving the Flyers much of a fight. By the third period they were up 4-0, one of which was scored by number 19 himself. As the horn sounded signaling the end of the game, Aubrey turned to you.

“I was going to go see Travis,” she hesitated, “Do you want to come? Or I can meet you right after?”

“I’ll wait for you,” you encouraged.

Aubrey thanked you, squeezing your hand before getting up and heading downstairs. Instead of going to the main concourse to wait, you stayed in your seat, waiting for the crowds to clear out before you moved. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you started mindlessly scrolling as a distraction.

But your distraction didn’t last for long.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Your eyes slipped shut when you heard his voice, that same voice that left you weak in the knees. You immediately felt your heart begin to race and your palms sweat. You felt caught. After taking a moment to pause, you finally mustered up the courage to look up at him.

Nolan’s eyes were focused on your own, his hair slicked back and soaking wet still with sweat. He had definitely not showered yet, between the fact that the game just ended minutes ago and his appearance. He was dressed in his undergarments and slides, clearly he wasted no time before coming up here to find you.

“How did you even know I was here?” you questioned back, already feeling yourself on the defense.

“Really?” Nolan scoffed, “Travis told me. How else would I have known? It’s not like you talk to me.” He trailed off, his words becoming quieter.

“Nolan, please,” you pleaded, “Please sit down.”

There was no doubt in your mind that it was time for you to come clean. You could see the pain in his eyes and the hurt behind his voice. He obliged, sinking to sit in the seat beside you, but he didn’t turn to face you. His coldness was evident, and you knew that you deserved nothing else.

“I’m sorry,” you began, “I’m so sorry, Nolan. I- I shouldn’t have left like that, with no explanation-”

“I thought I had you,” he interrupted, “Finally, Y/N, after all those weeks of tiptoeing around it, I thought we were done pretending.”

You could feel the tears burning behind your irises, and it was taking everything within you not to let them out. Nolan’s words broke you, even more than you were already broken.

“Nolan, I wanted- I want,” you corrected yourself, “Nothing more than to give myself to you, but I- I just can’t. I’m not ready.”

“Then why did you sleep with me?” his voice cracked, “And what does that even mean, ‘you’re not ready’?”

“I can’t let myself get hurt again, okay? I can’t do it,” you sighed, finally succumbing to your emotion, “I am so sorry for dragging you into my mess, but I can’t let myself go through that again. And you deserve so much better.”

Your head fell to your hands, hiding your face from him as you cried. Even just speaking out loud your last heartbreak made you a wreck. Deep down you knew Nolan wasn’t capable of hurting you like that, but you wouldn’t let him take care of you anymore. You couldn’t. He deserved someone who didn’t need to be taken care of.

“Y/N,” Nolan hummed, gently placing a hand on your back. He cringed when you jumped at his touch. “Y/N, look at me, please.”

You did as he asked, your red, puffy eyes lifting to meet his baby blues, putting you at ease almost right away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nolan murmured, “I don’t know what you think, but you’re not a burden. You’re the complete opposite and I want to show you that. If you’ll let me.” He paused, his eyes frantically scanning your face for any sign of your reaction. You were staring ahead of you, entranced with the ice below as you processed his words. Despite knowing how much it could potentially hurt, Nolan said what he thought he had to, “Even if it’s just as friends, but you can’t disappear on me again.”

You made Nolan feel at peace, like when he was with you nothing else mattered. But no matter how strong his feelings were, he cared for you enough to put them aside if that’s what it took to keep you in his life.

“I don't want to be friends,” you whispered, finally breaking the silence.

As if there was some kind of magnifying force between the two of you, your body lunged towards Nolan’s, your lips crashing together instantly. He was stunned, his body frozen in shock, but within seconds he melted against your touch with one hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your hair. It felt like time stopped in that moment, the only thing making you pull away was the lack of air.

You were both breathless, your foreheads resting against one another. Nolan took both of your hands in his, intertwining his much larger fingers with yours.

“I trust you,” you breathed out.

The grin that spread on Nolan’s face was like nothing you had ever seen before. You matched him right away, smiling as you watched the pure joy and relief wash over. The same joy and relief that you were feeling.

“Does this mean I finally get to take you out?” he asked, his deep mumble making you feel right at home again.

“Maybe,” you teased, “Only if you shower,” you added, pretending to push him off of you.

Nolan couldn’t help but fall into a fit of laughter at your subtle jab. That’s what he loved about you most, the way you could earn a smile or chuckle out of him like no one else.

He stood up from his seat, extending his hand out as he stared down at you. Without even a crumb of doubt creeping its way into your mind, you took his hand. Wrapping your arms around Nolan’s and resting your head against his shoulder, you walked out and into the hallway together.

Nolan leaned down and pressed a gentle peck to your forehead, and for the first time in longer than you could remember, you felt untouchable.

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #my writing

1K notes · View notes