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#sarcasm is my natural state
badbedforbedding · 1 year
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"Maester Colemon cares only for the boy, though. Father and I have larger concerns." A Feast for Crows - Alayne II
Some days ago, someone kindly explained to me the real meaning of this infamous line, being that Petyr and Sansa/Alayne's larger concern was to keep Sweet Robin unconscious so his "weakness" wouldn't show in front of the Vale lords. They were so protective of little Robert that they needed to drug the boy, obviously it was for his own good.
Yep, I learn something new every day. LMAO 🤣🤣🤣🤣
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janmisali · 1 year
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what do you think of tone indicators in general?
unfortunately my thoughts on tone indicators are somewhat nuanced. fortunately, this is tumblr not twitter, so I can just write out my full thoughts in one post and be as verbose about it as feels necessary.
speaking as an autistic person (and I know there are other autistic people who don't hold this same view, this is just my perspective), I think as an accessibility tool, the extended set tone indicators in current popular use is fundamentally misguided.
the oldest ones, /s for sarcasm and /j for jokes, make sense. their notation isn't the most intuitive thing ("does /s mean sarcastic or serious?") but it's not too difficult to explain what they mean. I've had to spend my whole life learning by brute force what different tones of voice mean and what they change about how I'm supposed to interpret something, so I already know what "read this in a sarcastic voice" and "read this as a joke" are supposed to mean. my existing skills can be translated into the new form without too much effort.
the same thing applies to emoji and emoticons. I know what facial expressions mean, because I had to learn what they mean. figuring out if :) is sincere or not from context is a skill I've already needed to develop. it doesn't come naturally for me, but it's something I already at least somewhat know how to do.
most of the tone indicators in current use uh. don't work like this.
tone indicators like /ref or /nbh don't correspond to specific tones of voice. I don't have a "I'm making a reference" voice or a "I'm not talking about a person who's here" voice that I can picture the sentence being read in. these do not indicate tones, they're purely disambiguators. they clarify what something means without necessarily changing how it would be read out loud.
and on paper, that's fine, right? like, it's theoretically a good thing to take an otherwise ambiguous statement and add something to it that clarifies what you meant by it. the problem is that these non-tone tone indicators are not even remotely self-explanatory. it's up to me, the person who is being clarified to, to know what all these acronyms are supposed to mean, and how they change the way I'm supposed to interpret what something means.
it's, quite literally, a newly-invented second set of social cues that I'm expected to learn separately from the set that I've already spent my whole life figuring out, and it works completely differently.
sure, these rules are (in principle) less arbitrary than the rules of facial expressions and tones of voice and how long you're supposed to wait before it's your turn to speak, but they're also fully artificial and recently invented, which means they're currently in a constant state of flux. tone indicators go in and out of fashion all the time, and the "comprehensive lists" are never helpful.
in theory, I appreciate the idea of people going out of their way to clarify what they mean by potentially ambiguous things they post online. if it worked, that would be a really nice thing to do.
however, sometimes I imagine what the internet would be like without them. what if instead of using /s, the expectation was that if you're sarcastic online there's no guarantee that strangers reading your post will know what you meant? what if instead of inventing more and more acronyms to cover every possible potentially confusing situation, we just... expected one another to speak less ambiguously in the first place?
so, I on paper like the idea of tone indicators. I think it's good that some people are trying to be considerate by being extra clear about what they mean by things. but if tone indicators didn't exist, and people who wanted to be considerate in this way instead just made a point of phrasing things more clearly to begin with, I think that would be vastly preferable to even the most well-implemented tone indicator system.
also /pos sucks because there's something deeply and profoundly wrong for an abbreviation that means "I don't mean this as an insult, don't worry" to be spelled the same way as an acronym that's an insult
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cosmiiwrites · 1 month
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Hello! Can I request a short hurt/comfort fic where Adam and the reader get into an argument? Y/n is his third wife and they both love each other dearly, but of course, fights can happen even to the best of couples. What if the reader got tired of arguing with her husband and decides to walk off during said argument, and when Adam angrily asks her, “Where the fuck you think you're going?!” she tells him, "I'm leaving". These are the exact words Adam heard from Lilith and Eve so long ago. He thinks that their relationship is over, that he has lost another one, his anger has subsided and he begins to have a panic attack, he tearfully apologizes to his wife and begs her not to leave. She had never seen him so vulnerable. Y/n is very worried about her husband and stays at home with him, trying to calm him down, whispering sweet nothing to him and promising that she will never leave him. They understand that this fight is stupid, and console each other in loving embrace. I hope that my request is not too difficut.
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ familiar feelings
·:¨༺ adam x fem!reader ༻¨:·
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⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ summary: in which adam encounters a familiar feeling cw: fem!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, cussing, soft adam a/n: SKHSJDK i love heem :(( arghh sorry this is late i need to start finishing up my requestss
you and adam had gotten into a heated, petty argument. it was going back and forth, and considering adam's stubborn nature, you knew it wouldn't end well. so you did what you thought was best. mid-sentence, you turned on your heel and walked away. your hand was on the doorknob, about to twist it open when a pair of hands grabbed your wrist. "let me go-" "where the fuck do you think you're going?" adam fumed, his grip on your wrist unfaltering. "im leaving." you snapped, pulling your wrist back, making adam stumble a little. "w-what?" the anger in his eyes quickly turned into fear. flashes of lilith and eve invaded his mind. you werent like them, right? you said you would never leave him. did you lie? why would you lie? adam dropped to his knees, hands angrily raking through his hair. "adam, what's going o-" "fuckfuckfuck, im so fuckin-" he had to stop for air, tears already falling down his face. "please, dont leave. im-im sorry, im sorry," your chest ached at the sight of your husband in this vulnerable state. "just dont leave me, please, i'll be better, i promise!" you were confused; did adam think you were leaving him over some petty argument? "i cant lose you," he admitted quietly.
“adam…” you drawled, hand now leaving the doorknob and onto his face. “im not leaving, okay? i would never leave you,” you cooed, now kneeling on the floor in front of adam. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, uttering quiet “im sorry’s.” “its okay,” you assured. you felt hot tears fall against your shoulders. adam’s nails digged into your hips, holding you close as if he was going to lose you.
once he finally calmed down, you led him to your shared bedroom, where you sat him down. “adam, i was never going to leave you,” you said softly.
he couldnt meet your eyes, face turning away from you. “that was so fuckin’ embarrassing…” adam huffed. you laughed a little, hands on his jaw, guiding his face to look at you.
“…im sorry.” he spoke softly. “adam, i already said it was oka-“ “no, i mean for earlier. that argument was stupid anyway. shit, i cant even blame you for wanting to leave.”
you sighed, looking down. adam had lost your gaze, which worried him a bit. “im sorry too,” you finally said. “lets just forget about this, alright?” adam’s signature grin returned. “im fine with that,” he replied, before attacking your face in kisses.
“mmph! adam!” you huffed, the stubble of his chin rubbing against your cheek.
“you’re so annoying,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“you love me though.”
“…unfortunately.”
“HEY!”
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rynwritesreid · 5 months
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You belong to me| Spencer Reid
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A/N: The rest of my uploads this week will be ones that have being requested, as I have a few waiting to be posted and I feel bad for the people waiting for their requests:) Jag älskar dig 🫶🏼
Summary: You and Spencer had called it quits on your “relationship” when Spencer refused to commit himself to you fully. However, Spencer didn’t realise how much he would hate seeing you flirt with somebody else. Happy ending(I promise).
Content: Smut and angst. Fem!reader. Dom!Spencer and Sub! reader. Possessive and to an extent asshole Spencer. Oral (F! receiving). Vaginal penetration. No mentions of contraception. Creampie. owning/claiming kink. overstimulation. 18+
Masterlist| Requests are open| Navigation
You stood in Spencer’s hotel room, filled with anger. Spencer had made it clear he didn’t want to be in a relationship with you, you had also seen him happily flirting with other women. So, why did he have a problem with you flirting with a man who was very clearly into you.
 
“Spencer, last time I checked you didn’t want to be in a relationship with me. So, you do not get to tell other men to back off when they are flirting with me.” You stated through gritted teeth.
 
Spencer's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he absorbed your words. His silence was heavy, thick with the tension that hung between you. The room seemed to shrink, suffocating you both in a cloud of unresolved emotions.
 
Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and possessiveness. "It's different, okay? I mean... I didn't think you'd actually go out and find someone else so quickly," he muttered, his gaze avoiding yours.
 
Anger surged within you at his audacity. "Oh, so it's all about your ego then? You want me to pine away for you while you have your fun? Newsflash, Spencer, I have needs too. I deserve to be happy."
 
His eyes flickered with regret before hardening again. "I never said you didn't deserve to be happy," he rebutted defensively.
 
Your voice dripped with sarcasm. "Right. So, when I find happiness elsewhere, you suddenly have a problem with it? Sounds like double standards to me, Spencer."
 
Spencer's face flushed with frustration, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "It's not about double standards," he argued, his voice growing louder. "I just... I didn't expect to feel this way. Seeing you with someone else, it hurts."
 
“Oh, but you didn’t think how I would feel seeing you flirting with other people. God why is everything always about you?” you sighed; frustration etched into every line on your face. Spencer's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the tumultuous nature of your relationship.
 
Spencer walked over to you, his steps measured and deliberate. He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. The touch sent shivers down your spine, a reminder of the undeniable chemistry that had drawn you together in the first place.
 
“Not everything is about me. But I can’t let what’s mine flirt with somebody else.” Spencer's words hung in the air. Your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air, an intoxicating mixture of possessiveness and longing. The intensity of his gaze locked you in place, his touch branding your skin, igniting a flicker of desire deep within you.
 
“Spencer, you don’t get to say that anymore.” You tried to pull away from his grasp, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh. The pain shot through you, mingling with the remnants of anger and desire that swirled in your veins.
 
"I do get to say it," he growled, his voice thick with a mix of dominance and desperation. "Because no matter what we've said or done, I can't shake this feeling that you're mine."
 
Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the conflicting emotions swirling within you. Spencer's possessiveness was suffocating, but a part of you couldn't deny the thrill it ignited deep in your core. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, melting your resolve with every passing second.
 
But you refused to let him dictate your happiness any longer. With a surge of strength, you wrenched yourself free from his grip, stepping back and putting some distance between you. The pain lingered on your skin where his fingers had dug into you, a stark reminder of the toxicity that had seeped into your relationship.
 
"No, Spencer," you said firmly, your voice trembling but resolute. "I am not yours to claim. I deserve freedom, happiness, and someone who respects me enough to let me make my own choices."
 
His face contorted with a mix of anger and hurt; his breathing ragged as he struggled to regain control. "You don't understand," he spat out, his voice dripping with venom. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. You're all I think about, all I want. And you're just throwing it away for some cheap fling."
 
"No, Spencer," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "This is not a cheap fling. This is me reclaiming my worth and refusing to settle for less than I deserve."
 
"You're mine," he repeated, his voice filled with a mixture of desperation and frustration. “You’ll always be mine. You’ve just got to accept it.”
 
Spencer’s lips than found themselves on yours. You wanted to protest, to pull away from the kiss. But you couldn’t, this is all you ever wanted. You just wanted Spencer, and you knew you were just flirting with that officer to see if Spencer would get jealous.
 
The kiss was electric, a collision of passion and longing that left you breathless. Spencer's lips moved against yours with a fervour that mirrored the tumultuous emotions swirling inside both of you. As his hands roamed your body, igniting a fire that had never fully extinguished, you couldn't help but succumb to the seductive pull of his touch.
 
Spencer's lips curled into a predatory smile, sensing your surrender. His grip tightened even further, bordering on painful, but you found yourself oddly drawn to the discomfort, craving the mix of pleasure and pain that only he seemed capable of providing.
 
You melted into his touch, your body responding eagerly to his every command. The familiar dance of dominance and submission played out between you, the lines blurring as pleasure mingled with the lingering pain from his earlier grip.
 
Spencer pulled away from the kiss, his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered darkly, "You may think you're your own person, but deep down, you know it's different between us."
 
Your heart raced in your chest, conflicted, and torn between the intoxicating desire that Spencer ignited within you and the boundaries you were determined to set. His words sank deep into your subconscious, stirring a primal need to surrender to him completely.
 
“I’m yours Spencer, I’ll forever be yours.” The words slipped out before you could fully comprehend them, a whisper of submission that hung heavily in the air. Spencer's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and triumph, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. His hold on you tightened possessively, his fingers digging into your flesh as if marking you as his territory.
 
Spencer's triumphant smile sent chills down your spine, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through your veins. The possessiveness in his touch both thrilled and frightened you, but the undeniable connection between you made it difficult to resist.
 
Spencer’s hand found their way to your shirt, his fingers undoing the buttons slowly, revealing the vulnerable flesh beneath. His touch was both deliberate and tender, his gaze never leaving yours as he explored every inch of your exposed skin.
 
As the fabric fell away, exposing your bare chest to the cool air, Spencer's eyes darkened with desire. His fingers traced a path of fire along your collarbone, down your abdomen, until they reached the waistband of your pants. With a quick flick of his wrist, he unbuttoned them, his touch igniting a trail of need that burned through you.
 
You could feel the hunger radiating from him, a primal urge that matched your own. There was no denying the raw connection between you, no matter how toxic it may have become. It was a dance, an intoxicating game of power and surrender that neither of you could resist.
 
Spencer's lips found yours once again, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. The kiss was a maelstrom of passion and possessiveness, fuelling the fire that raged within both of you. His hands explored every inch of your exposed skin, igniting a trail of desire that consumed you both.
 
As his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a fiery path in their wake, your mind struggled to reconcile the conflicting emotions raging within. Sensation mingled with uncertainty; pleasure intertwined with doubt. But in that moment, none of it mattered. All that existed was the intoxicating connection between you and Spencer.
 
You hadn’t realised but Spencer was pushing you towards the bed, his touch guiding you with an intensity that made your heart race. The sheets beckoned, a sanctuary where the turmoil of your relationship could be momentarily forgotten. As you sank into the softness, surrendering to the desires that consumed you both, the world outside ceased to exist.
 
Spencer's eyes held yours, filled with a mixture of hunger and adoration. Each movement, each touch, was a delicate balance between dominance and tenderness, awakening a whirlwind of emotions within you. His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume everything in its path.
 
The air brimmed with anticipation as Spencer lowered himself beside you on the bed, his body radiating heat. Your souls seemed intertwined, bound by an unspoken understanding that surpassed words. His lips found your neck once again, leaving a trail of kisses that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.
 
With a gentle touch, he traced a path down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips worshipped at every inch of your skin, leaving no part untouched by his fervent desire.
 
As Spencer's lips trailed lower, his hands followed suit, caressing your thighs with a tender touch that made every nerve ending tingle. The anticipation built with each passing second, the air heavy with desire and the promise of unbridled pleasure.
 
Spencer's eyes met yours, you knew he was asking for consent, but you could sense he was asking for redemption. You hesitated for a moment, caught between the allure of surrender and the boundaries you were determined to set. The toxic history of your relationship with Spencer tugged at the edges of your mind, warning you of the potential consequences of giving in to his desires once more.
 
But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a glimmer of vulnerability beneath the seductive gaze. It was a plea for redemption, an unspoken promise that this time would be different. And so, with a mix of trepidation and newfound hope, you nodded, granting him the consent he sought.
 
Without hesitation, he lowered his head, his hot breath grazing against your sensitive flesh. His tongue delved between your folds, exploring, and tasting every inch as if committing it to memory. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, each lick and suck sending shockwaves through your body.
 
The intensity built with every passing second, reaching a crescendo that threatened to consume you entirely. Your fingers threaded through Spencer's hair, urging him closer, deeper. He responded with a primal growl against your skin, intensifying the sensations coursing through you. His mouth became a vortex of pleasure, his tongue expertly tracing patterns that drove you to the edge and back again.
 
You were lost in a symphony of ecstasy, the boundaries of pleasure and pain blurring as Spencer pushed you further towards the edge. His touch was both tender and possessive, his tongue exploring every inch of your intimate depths with a voracious hunger that left no doubt of his intentions.
 
The room filled with your gasps and moans; the air heavy with the scent of desire. Spencer's fingers joined in the dance, tracing maddening circles on your swollen bud, coaxing you closer to the precipice. The tension built within you, coiling tightly like a spring ready to snap.
 
And just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he plunged two fingers inside you, filling you completely. The sensation sent shockwaves through your body, pleasure spiraling outwards from the depths of your core. Your back arched off the bed involuntarily as he expertly curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot that had always driven you wild.
 
The world faded away as pleasure engulfed you, every touch from Spencer a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through your body. The boundaries you had set were shattered in the wake of the pleasure he provided, replaced by an insatiable hunger for more. Your mind became clouded with desire as he continued his relentless assault on your senses, pushing you closer to the edge of oblivion.
 
Spencer's movements grew more intense, his fingers plunging deeper inside you, as if he was determined to claim every inch of your being. The room filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths, mingled with his low growls of satisfaction. The intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure heightened your arousal, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy.
 
As the waves of pleasure crashed over you, each crest stronger than the last, you surrendered completely to the intoxicating abyss. Your body writhed beneath Spencer's touch, aching for release as he skilfully brought you to the precipice of ecstasy.
 
The tension built within you, coiling tightly like a spring ready to snap. The room filled with your gasps and moans; the air heavy with the scent of desire. Spencer's fingers joined in the dance, tracing maddening circles on your swollen bud, coaxing you closer to the precipice. The intensity grew with every passing moment, until you were teetering on the edge of an explosive climax.
 
Just as you were about to tip over into blissful release, Spencer withdrew his fingers, leaving you panting, throbbing, and desperate for more. A whimper of frustration escaped your lips as he grinned wickedly above you. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of satisfaction and mischief.
 
"Patience," he whispered huskily, his voice dripping with promises of pleasure yet to come.
 
You watched as Spencer slowly shed his clothes, revealing every inch of his sculpted body. Your breath hitched at the sight, desire coursing through your veins like a wildfire. The hunger in his eyes mirrored your own, igniting a primal need that threatened to consume you both.
 
With a predatory grace, he prowled towards you, his gaze never leaving yours. The weight of his presence filled the room, intoxicating and overwhelming. As he reached the edge of the bed, his hands moved to grip your hips possessively, his touch searing into your skin.
 
"I want to taste every inch of you," Spencer growled, his voice dripping with raw desire. His words sent shivers down your spine, anticipation coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach.
 
His lips crashed against yours again, a fierce kiss that left no doubt of his intentions. His tongue tangled with yours in a dance as old as time, exploring and staking claim to every corner of your mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady combination of desire and something deeper, something that spoke of a connection that went beyond the physical.
 
Spencer's hands roamed your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He traced the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, as if he were memorizing every inch of you. His touch was possessive, but tender, an embodiment of the conflicting emotions that filled both your hearts.
 
With a deft motion, Spencer pushed himself up so that he hovered above you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. There was a hunger there, but also a vulnerability - a vulnerability that mirrored your own.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "I want to show you how much I love you." His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and the weight of past mistakes.
 
In that moment, you saw the truth in his eyes. His words weren't just empty promises, but a genuine declaration of love and desire. The toxic history between you and Spencer had been a tumultuous journey, filled with heartache and pain. But now, in this moment, there was a glimmer of hope, a chance for redemption.
 
You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to let go of the past and embrace the present. With a surge of courage, you reached up and cupped his face in your hands, pulling him closer to you. The taste of his lips ignited a fire within you, fuelling your hunger for him.
 
Spencer's hands roamed your body with a renewed passion, his touch setting your skin ablaze. Every caress was filled with purpose, a testament to the depths of his desire for you. You surrendered yourself completely to him, allowing him to explore every inch of your being.
 
As the world around you faded away, it was just the two of you locked in an intimate dance of love and lust. The room seemed to disappear as you and Spencer became lost in each other. Every touch, every kiss, was a testament to the fire that burned between you.
 
His hands moved over your body with a reverence that spoke of the love he had for you. With each caress, he worshipped every curve and every inch of your skin. It was as though he wanted to memorize every detail, etching it into his memory forever.
 
You felt adored under his touch, cherished in a way you had never experienced before. It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel desired, beautiful, and wanted. In his embrace, you found solace and passion intertwining, creating a powerful connection that surpassed mere physicality.
 
The heat between you grew with each passing moment, igniting a hunger that consumed every fibber of your being. Spencer's lips trailed along your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake. His breath was warm against your skin as he whispered words of love and longing, his voice husky with desire. You shivered under his touch, the anticipation building to a fever pitch.
 
With a fluid motion, Spencer eased himself inside you, filling you completely. The connection between you was electric, a fusion of bodies and souls coming together in a moment of exquisite pleasure. His movements were deliberate and measured, each thrust taking you closer to the edge of ecstasy.
 
Your hands clung to his back, nails digging into his skin as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. Every stroke, every collision of flesh against flesh sent shockwaves of delight rippling through your veins. The symphony of your moans and sighs mingled with his own grunts of pleasure, creating a harmony that echoed through the room.
 
The rhythm between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony. You lost yourself in the dance, surrendering to the primal urge that consumed you both. The world around you ceased to exist as pleasure became your only reality.
 
Spencer's thrusts grew faster and more urgent, each one driving you closer to the edge of rapture. The room echoed with the sounds of your bodies colliding, a symphony of raw desire and ecstasy. The air crackled with tension as you both chased that elusive release, the anticipation building to a crescendo.
 
Your senses were heightened, every touch from Spencer igniting fireworks within you. His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that left no doubt of his devotion. You could feel the intensity in his movements, his need to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.
 
As his lips claimed yours once more, you felt that familiar coil of desire tighten within you. It was as if the whole universe had condensed into this moment, this connection between two souls hungry for each other. Spencer's name escaped your lips like a prayer, mingling with gasps and moans.
 
With each thrust, you soared higher, teetering on the edge of an explosive release. The intensity of Spencer's touch, combined with the overwhelming love and longing between you, sent your body into a frenzy of pleasure. The world around you blurred into a haze as your senses heightened, every nerve ending electrified.
 
Spencer's movements became more desperate, his thrusts reaching a fevered pace. He was so close, as were you. With each collision of your bodies, it felt like an eruption of pure bliss was just within reach.
 
Your eyes locked, the connection between you unbreakable. There was an unspoken understanding in that moment, a shared desire to push each other past the limits of ecstasy. You wanted to give him everything, to show him how much you loved him.
 
As if sensing your thoughts, Spencer's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh. His breath mingled with yours in ragged gasps as he whispered words of love and devotion against your skin.
 
Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the symphony of your moans and the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. The tension that had built between you was unraveled in that moment, as you both gave yourselves completely to the pleasure that surged through your bodies.
 
Time seemed to stand still as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. You clung to each other, lost in the intense pleasure that consumed every inch of your being. The room filled with the sounds of your cries and moans, a symphony of passion and desire.
 
As your climax approached, you felt a surge of warmth intertwine with the pleasure coursing through you. It wasn't just physical release anymore; it was something deeper, something that transcended the boundaries of mere pleasure. It was a connection forged in love and vulnerability, a sacred bond between two souls.
 
In that final moment, bliss washed over you like a tidal wave. Your bodies trembled and convulsed together, locked in an embrace that defied explanation. It was an explosion of sensation and emotion that left you breathless and sated. The world seemed to fade away as you clung to each other, riding out the aftershocks of pleasure.
 
As your breathing slowed and your heart rates steadied, you remained tangled in each other's arms, basking in the aftermath of your passion. This moment, this connection, felt so different from anything you had experienced before. It was more than just the physical act; it was an affirmation of your love for one another.
 
Spencer pressed gentle kisses against your forehead, his touch filled with tenderness and adoration. You could feel his chest rise and fall against yours, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in perfect harmony with your own. The room was filled with a blissful silence, a peaceful sanctuary created by your union.
 
In the tranquil aftermath, you and Spencer lay entwined, bodies still humming with the echoes of pleasure. Your fingers traced lazy patterns along his bare chest, revelling in the warmth that radiated between you. The weight of his arm draped across your waist provided a comforting reassurance, grounding you in the reality of your newfound connection.
 
As the room filled with hushed whispers and soft sighs, you marvelled at the journey that had led you both to this moment. The toxic history that had once plagued your relationship now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the raw love and desire that now bound you together.
 
Spencer shifted slightly, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender kiss. His breath danced against your skin as he whispered words of affection, promising to cherish and protect what you had created. With each gentle word, he washed away any lingering doubts or fears, replacing them with a deep sense of security and belonging.
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I read the post where you answered why you didn’t like Malleus and remembered that you placed Leona really highly on your favs list, and Leona is my favorite so do you mind me asking why do you like Leona?
[My TWST character tier list is here.]
[Anon is also referencing this Malleus post.]
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THERE’S A REASON WHY L*ONA IS IN “Unfortunately Enjoy” TIER 😭 I think for like... over a year (2020-2021)? Probably closer to 1.5 years?? I really disliked him and swore up and down that I'd "never in my life simp for the fake cat". This was largely in part due to book 2, which to this day I believe did Leona a HUGE disservice and made him look very unintelligent and uninteresting. Then I was drip fed new Leona content as it steadily came out (vignettes, voice lines, event stories, his return in book 6) and my opinion of him vastly improved. Book 2 was just a really bad introduction to him and it greatly soured my first impressions. sjfyofqebfeiafns B-But now I'm too embarrassed to openly declare, "Yeah, I like a sad muscular l*on man. So what?" Some would say that's tsundere behavior... BUT I SAY I'M COMPLETELY JUSTIFIED FOR ACTING THIS WAY BECAUSE IT ISN'T EASY TO CONFESS WITH YOUR WHOLE CHEST THAT YOU LIKE KINGSCHOLAR OF ALL TWST CHARACTERS
... Anyway! For a much more expanded explanation, I'd recommend this post! It already states a lot of my thoughts, and I don't want to repeat them in yet another lengthy lion-related post. What I'll do instead is summarize the key points for you, plus add some commentary about Leona and Malleus at the end.
Admittedly, he is pretty. VERY pretty. I'm saying this as someone who normally really dislikes hair longer than shoulder length, the "wild"/bad boy aesthetic, and kemonomimi. Leona breaks ALL the rules and still somehow manages to wear everything and anything well because of his sheer confidence and natural grace. His physical features are also very striking... The sharp bright green eyes, the small waist and large chest (there's NO reason why he HAD to be built like that), his stupid smirk, etc.
His pettiness and sarcasm. Leona has, hands down, some of the funniest lines 🤡 I love that he has the balls to speak callously to everyone, including fellow dorm leaders and royalty. His best moments, however, are when he whips out the sarcasm on statements which are so patently untrue--like when he says he is a 'delicate prince' and a 'lost child', both moments from book 6. It's also hilarious whenever Leona speaks in a formal way, showing that he does have the education and the knowledge of how a prince should present himself, but just actively chooses to not make the effort and only does so mockingly or when social grace calls for it.
HIS BIG BRAIN FOLDS, HOLY COW (err, book 2 aside). Leona works smarter, not harder!! He's always one step ahead of everyone else, even if he appears sleepy or disinterested at the time. He figured out the trick behind the "indestructible" golden contracts, he sussed out Jamil WAY before book 4 ever came out (saying that Jamil has "eyes that always glare" and implying that Jamil poses a threat to Kalim's life; this is from Jamil's School Uniform vignette), he takes what he learns in textbooks and so easily translates it to real-world experiences (ie advising the first years on how to more efficiently mine magestones in Vargas Camp), etc. Additionally, Leona knows when to step in and when to be hands off. It's not done out of cowardice or laziness, but rather because he's thinking strategically. For example, he could have resisted capture at the hands of the Ferrymen, but he didn't because it would be smarter to just go with them willingly. It saves everyone a lot of time and energy, and it’s this kind of intelligent thinking that makes Leona really stand out.
He knows how to lead. There are many different types of beastmen, each with own beliefs, values, and traditions that are unique to their own group. As a result, it is very difficult to unify all beastmen within the Sunset Savanna under one rule. Guess who doesn't have this problem? THAT'S RIGHT, IT'S LEONA. There's a variety of beastmen in Savanaclaw, and he effortlessly rules over them and commands their respect.
He actively thinks about how to improve the Sunset Savanna. Leona's ideas are not always the best (like, yeah, you could introduce new technology to the country but expect significant social pushback from the people, who prioritize living in harmony with nature). However, I can really appreciate that he did not entirely turn his back on the people who feared his powers and talked him down. I think he eventually realized the flaws in his way of thinking and actively chose an energy and mining lab internship in hopes of researching ways to slowly implement changes that will benefit the Sunset Savanna while also remaining respectful of the people's beliefs. He is concerned about Falena's lax way of ruling and consistently brings up ideas in various voice lines about how they can improve the Sunset Savanna and its relationships with other countries and tourists. In spite of everything he went through, Leona never wants to hurt those who hurt him with their comments and comparisons to his elder brother. He does not ever want to tear down the system that kicked him down again and again, only wants to challenge it by proving his own merits and the merits of the other downtrodden that he leads.
As much as he wants to deny it, he cares about his underclassmen and goes out of his way to help them. There are sooo many examples of this that it cannot possibly fit in one bullet point. (I would really recommend reading the elongated post linked above, as I go into more detail on this.) Suffice to say, Leona has been shown guiding, instructing, and mentoring many other characters including, but not limited to: Epel, Ruggie, Jack, and various Savanaclaw mob students. This really hits me in the heart because I love reliable big brother characters 😭 EVEN THOUGH LEONA IS TECHNICALLY A YOUNGER BROTHER...
He understands his strengths—and he understands others' strengths too. This man is fully aware of his magical might and powerful presence. He uses every last bit of it to full effect and to attain his goals, whatever those may be. One of my favorite uses has to be In Fairy Gala!! He distracted some pixies by simply demanding water and their attention so his partners in crime could escape—and what’s more, this was a plan he came up with on the spot because their mission was being jeopardized by unforeseen events. Leona is also good about pinpointing people’s best attributes and then helping them hone it. This happens a lot during club practice, bur it also occurs in book 6 between him and Jamil. Speaking of…
THAT WHOLE BOOK 6 CONVERSATION WITH JAMIL DESERVES ITS OWN BULLET POINT. This part was peak mentor mode Leona 😭 Sure, maybe he wasn’t the kindest with his wording, but I felt this was the wake up call Jamil needed to hear. What really got me though was the part where Leona tells Jamil there’s still hope for him… “unlike me”. (I believe this part was translated differently in EN to make Leona’s ego sound more inflated (ie “I’m not like you”) which saddens me immensely.) It paints the image that Leona is still struggling to believe his efforts will amount to anything and that he believes more in his juniors than in himself :(( (which informs my headcanon that Leona mentors younger students so that they can have the bright future he doesn’t think he can have for himself).
Emotional complexity. When you get down to it, what started off as a very basic story of jealousy and inferiority complex actually resulted in a deeply flawed, traumatized, and scarred individual who continues to doubt and put himself down but is slowly recovering. Leona is smart and charismatic—he is everything a leader should be, but he doesn’t truly see his own worth. (Ironically, the only people who do are the ones who look up to him and follow him.) And now… Leona’s actually got his eyes set on graduating! He has his internship plans set! I think he’s made such big strides since book 2, and it’s been so rewarding seeing him regain his willingness to try and succeed return to him.
Looking back on it, it’s so ironic how things ended up working out. Initially, I was totally on Lilia’s side when he insulted Leona and said he would never be the kind of leader Malleus is. Now I’m realizing how Leona does many of the things I don’t see Malleus doing (despite Lilia claiming Malleus is more fit to be king than Leona is).
Malleus isn’t harming his people by any means, but it’s more like he’s… stagnant? Complacent? He’s satisfied with the status quo and is comfortable resting on his laurels. And because of that, Malleus doesn’t really seem to consider what he, as a leader, can do for others, be it for his dorm members or doe his country. (Part of this is also how isolated and opposed to change Briar Valley is, of course! That kind of culture definitely shapes Malleus’s thinking.) He tends to avoid situations which involve navigating social complexities rather than dealing with them himself. Think of Ghost Marriage, when Sebek proposes in his place. Think of Fairy Gala, when Silver is the one that ultimately resolves the conflict between the diurnal fae (who have historically not been friendly with nocturnal fae) and NRC. Malleus is so sheltered that has not truly been put in situations where he has to make tough decisions or where he has been challenged. He has never had to claw and scream and beg for people to see his worth.
Leona has been through that emotional wringer, and though he’s been hurt so badly, he still came out the other side. In running from the shadow of his family—of his older brother—Leona found solace in this new kingdom, Savanaclaw. It’s a place to build himself up, to stew over the ideas he has that have yet to be realized, all with a safe mental distance from home. It’s through the many hardships he has experienced that has refined his wit and given it a place to practice, to be used.
When it comes down to it, Leona and Malleus are two sides of the same coin. Both arrogant princes, the second born and crown prince, respectively, wishing for the other’s circumstances. Leona desperately wants that respect and recognition that Malleus has. Malleus longs for the intimacy and camaraderie that Leona is so easily able to cultivate and command. Leona has been forced to adapt, to learn, to grow from his scars. Malleus struggles with the concept of change (understandable, given his background) and actively denies reality if he finds the truth to be unpleasant. He’s not used to facing dilemmas that cannot be solved with magical strength, and has not ever been challenged in such a way. Malleus doesn’t know how to deal with that, which is partly why be panics and loses himself to emotions in book 7. (By the end of it, I’m sure he’ll be given the chance to see the error of his ways though 💦 or at least I hope he does??)
Their characters are very different, and that’s not a bad thing!! If anything, it makes their dynamic so interesting to observe and it offers varying interpretations of the same “prince” trope. I definitely know which of the two I prefer 🤡
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derangedmoth97 · 3 days
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I'm not an AM simp but for some reason this idea popped into my mind when I woke up this morning. Also, I like enabling selfshippers
What if you did his bidding? Perhaps through some kind of hypnosis or as a way to avoid his wrath. Maybe it's his way of showing that he loves you doesn't hate you AS MUCH as the rest of humanity. Maybe you share his opinion about humanity too. Or maybe it's your form of torture if you're naturally kindhearted and hate the idea of hurting people.
I can imagine that he would alter your appearance to look more monster-like, sharp teeth, dagger like claws, eyes to help you find anyone who tries to avoid his hate. this little makeover of his could be permanent or be a temporary state.
He would complement you during or after you torture your victims. All of them ooze a form of sarcasm, also the pet names he picks would be the most embarrassing and cliche ones, just to get under your skin. "Good morning angel, I hope you slept well." (You didnt) "Make sure to go for the eyes dear." "Yes, Thats it, do it like that. You're doing so great my love."
"Such a good girl/boy, maybe I'll reward you later~" (He gives you basic necessities)
If you refuse, he'll either threaten you... "Oh? You DONT want to hurt them? You're so sweet." He coos softly as his wires squeeze your neck tighter and tighter. "Maybe you would like to join them?" I have a little cage..." The screen threatens to burn off your poor eyes. "Just. For. YOU."
"Please...I'll do...it."
The wires loosen around your neck. "Do what?
"I'll..I'll hurt them." "Good, good..." Wires tangle around your hair in an attempt to pet you. Or maybe he'll appeal to your sense of justice... "Do you honestly think these people are innocent?" He'll either use half-truths or straight up lies to get you angry enough to exact "justice". He'll also use ""evidence"" to convince you. (Honestly, he doesn't really need to lie to get you to hate Benny or Nimdok.) If none of that works...Well Mind control is always a useful option And after all of this you can't help but wonder. "Why? Why do you want ME to do this!?" "Because dear..." He forces you to gaze into that oh so familiar screen.
"It's because you're my favorite."
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midastouch013 · 1 month
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Nice To Meet You
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Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Pronouns not specified)
Summary : You're new to the avengers, and meet the infamous Black Widow for the first time. Do you interest her, or are you just another person?
Warnings: Just sarcasm and overall cute.
P.S I had previously posted this, but had all my fic deleted, so I'm having it posted again
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The Avengers Tower was alive with activity as Natasha Romanoff entered the common area. The team had been informed about a new member joining them, and Natasha, known for her somewhat reserved demeanor, was intrigued to meet the person who had caught Nick Fury's attention.
As she entered the room, her gaze landed on you, standing a few inches taller than her and engaged in a lively conversation with Wanda Maximoff. Your slight British accent and outgoing demeanor immediately caught Natasha's attention, but she maintained her usual cool exterior.
Wanda noticed Natasha approaching and grinned, waving you over. "Nat, this is Y/N. Y/N, meet Natasha Romanoff," she introduced with a playful smirk.
You turned towards Natasha, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you, Natasha. Wanda here has been telling me all about the infamous Black Widow. I'm hoping her stories are true."
Natasha assessed you with a raised eyebrow before finally shaking your hand. "We'll see."
Over the next few days, you proved your worth to the team with your medical expertise and combat skills. Natasha observed your interactions with a measured curiosity, not easily swayed by the outgoing nature that seemed to be second nature to you.
One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, you and Natasha found yourselves alone in the gym. Natasha was honing her skills, and you were diligently working on perfecting your moves. There was a palpable tension between the two of you, a silent acknowledgment of each other's capabilities.
As Natasha executed a precise series of kicks, you couldn't resist a sarcastic comment. "Impressive, Nat. I almost forgot you're not just the resident ice queen."
Natasha shot you a sidelong glance, her expression giving away nothing. "Almost. You're not too bad yourself, for someone who talks as much as Stark during a press conference."
You grinned, reveling in the banter. "Well, talking is an art, Natasha. Not everyone can appreciate it."
Without missing a beat, you mimicked her moves, injecting a bit of humor into the routine. Natasha didn't react overtly, but a subtle quirk of her lips suggested a hint of amusement.
In the following days, your interactions with Natasha became a delicate dance of sarcasm and skill. You found ways to break through her stoic facade, and she responded with a dry wit that matched your own. One day, during a mission briefing, Tony , leaning against the Quinjet with a smirk, quipped during the mission briefing, "I've upgraded the Quinjet, folks. Now it's not just state-of-the-art; it's Stark-of-the-art. I know, I'm a genius, thank me later."
You couldn't let Tony's comment slide without a retort. Smirking, you raised an eyebrow and replied, "Well, Stark, if your upgrades are as functional as your relationships, we might want to consider taking the stairs next time." The room burst into laughter, including Natasha, who couldn't help but crack a smile. Tony, momentarily taken aback, playfully rolled his eyes. "Oh, someone call the burn unit. We've got a comedian on the team."
"Looks like even the ice queen can appreciate a good dose of sarcasm," you remarked afterwards when you had sat yourself next to the redhead, earning a subtle smirk from her.
As time passed, Natasha Romanoff found herself acknowledging the camaraderie that had formed between you two. The Avengers Tower became witness to the unlikely friendship and something more that blossomed between the thought to be frigid assassin and the outgoing doctor, proving that even in the high-stakes world of superheroes, a well-timed quip and a shared smirk could go a long way.
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allimocha · 3 months
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AlliMocha Fancuries FYC Post!
Hi Hello, Pip Pip Cheerio! Fancuries is here once again! And boy do I have something to share this FYC post.
So, I haven’t worked on Bittersweet X Daydream in a hot minute if I'm gonna be honest. A lot of other obligations have been taking time away from my main fanseries sadly. BUT I do have one new thing to show you guys regarding it.
Hear me out.
A redesign.
I KNoW I know I said no more redesigns, but after having these characters for so long, it's only natural that I'd want to change how they look. Specifically, there is only one character that I've redesigned so far anyway…
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Lei Sandiego / Cure Spice
“𝘔𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘺, 𝘎𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘢! 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘦!”
Age: 16 (Second year/Sophomore)
Birthday: September 18th
Height: 5’6”
Ethnicity: Hispanic American
Cure color: Blue and Scarlet
Essence: Charismatic
Often referred to as “The school beauty”, Lei is admired by almost all of her peers. Her amazing charisma, along with her intimidatingly cool and beautiful looks immediately captures everyone’s attention. But despite this, she’s really just a big fashion geek. She prides herself in her impeccable style savvy-ness and studies the latest trends all the time. Lei is also a very confident person, sometimes to the point that it can be overbearing, but she’s never arrogant and always means well. She’s a hopeless romantic and is constantly trying to look for someone who likes her beneath her looks. Although she’s fashion-centric she’s also very athletic, being the co-captain of the girls' volleyball team, and so devotes time to doing both hobbies.
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That's not all, however, because I also have a new series that I've been working on. A crossover series if you will. Based on one of my favorite Disney movies of all time:
Sugar Rush! Precure
A group of girls go to the arcade after school every day to hangout. They excel at most of the consoles there, notably the racing games. One day, Vanelope finds a weird token like she had never seen before, as it was engraved with intricate patterns and a shiny gold. When she attempts to use it in a racing game, it flashes in the machine and floats out as another trinket (henshin item). At that moment, a mysterious person is creating havoc outside the arcade, clearly looking for something. He spots the trinket in Vanelope’s hand, and we all know what happens from here.
Yep! Cures based on the sugar rush racers from Wreck-It Ralph! So far, I only have 2 of their designs, but I'm still completely in love with where this is going. Speaking of which, lets show those two off!
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Vanelope Von Schmitt / Cure Sweets
Age: 16
A very confident girl, Vanelope is definetly the ray of sunshine that brightens anyone’s day. She’s very friendly, but is also not afraid to tell it like she sees it. She also has a habit of being overly sarcastic or jokey, which can come off as annoying to others. Not really good at school and overly clumsy, so sometimes covers her negative emotions with jokes or sarcasm. Adores arcades and always states it’s her home away from home.
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Tabitha Mathews / Cure Taffy
Age: 16
Very rich and spoiled and it definetly shows. She can be cocky and overbearing at times, but she’s got a good heart. One of the more popular girls in their school, and accells in all her extracurriculars. Due to her father being principal, people have rumored that all her grades were boosted due to nepotism, but that’s not true. She works hard to get where she is, and while vain and sometimes a little rude, she isn’t afraid to help others in need. Goes to the arcade to get away at times.
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So that’s all I’ve been working on so far! I can’t really say I’ve done much with my fanseries over the years, but hopefully you all like what I do have!
Byieeee~!
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call-sign-shark · 3 months
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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC
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Summary: When starting the vendetta with the Peaky Blinders, Luca Changretta didn't expect you, Arthur's wife, to be the one meeting him. Now that you're facing him, he's determined to make you understand who leads the dance. It's a man's world after all! || Featuring Luca Changretta x Reader
Words: 6.7k
TW: alteration of canon events, canonical violence, drug use, slight allusions to sex, canonical misogyny, quick allusions to domestic abuse, witchcraft (canonical since PB flirts with it sometimes), fluff, Arthur is as fucked up as cute, depictions of slaughter and body horror. The last part of this chapter is a flash forward. What happened will be described in the next chapter.
Notes:
✞ The mentioned character of Aurora, Luca's wife, belonged to @zablife.
✞ The bold sentence Heaven says comes from Lana Del Rey.
✞ This is chapter 15 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Usually, each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.
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PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART
The dim glow of luxuriant chandeliers cast their orange light over the bar, their warm hue sublimating the rich notes of aged oak from which the counter had been sculpted. Standing alone on a barstool with your crystal gaze fixed on the swirling depths of your glass of red wine, you relished how the liquid gracefully danced and caught the light in a hypnotizing display of crimson elegance. Smooth as silk, its robe was deprived of lees and hugged your throat at each sip. It had been a while since you hadn't drunk such fine alcohol, and this experiment was almost enough to make you forget the curious glances of some noisy clients. As rare as it was to see a woman drinking by herself at the bar without the company of a gentleman due to the prohibited nature of such actions, no one had dared confront you about the matter yet. The waiter had thought of doing so because it didn't feel right to him but one look at the deadly frost of your eyes had been efficient enough for him to swallow his words and mind his own business. Wise decision, you weren't in the mood to be polite. There had been something off in the way you had stared at him, like a wild cat waiting for its prey to come just a little bit closer to pounce on it. He quickly lowered his gaze and went on with wiping down his glass, definitely not taking the risk of causing a scene. Bringing the expensive glass to your plump lips, you froze mid-movement at the sudden feeling of someone's presence behind your back. So, he came. Your mouth slowly curled in a cold, sardonic smirk. Your special guest didn't bother to greet you. Instead, he simply put his fedora hat on the bar counter right where the corner of your eyes you could see it.
"Isn't it the lady who should play hard to get?" You stated before drowning your sarcasm with a gulp of wine, its complex and refined taste displaying all its flavors on your tongue. So far, it has been one of the few places in which the wine was exquisite. And French, of course.
Swiftly slipping between two barstools, the man sat next to you — all his movements, measured and confident, denoted an indescribable elegance.
"So?" A collected and alluring voice inquired, wasting no time in futile courtesy nor in answering your taunt. He would have been surprised if his men hadn't warned him that you were the kind of woman to never be at a loss for words. Just like the two other harpies of the Shelby clan though.
"So, you spare my husband." You finished your glass and put it back on the wooden counter with a movement that translated both your firmness and determination. If there was one thing he had learned throughout his gangster life it was to pay attention to details. Since the very beginning of his criminal activities, Luca always focused on the way someone moved, especially because body language often said much more about people than words themselves. Contrary to prose, the body never lied, and concerning yours the signals were rather clear: you wouldn't cave in. "Oh, and you also spare Finn but it stands to reason. He's just a kid after all." Your request, spoken with a measured yet Artic calmness, snatched an amused snort from the threatening man. How did you dare bargain with him about who would die and who would live while your place wasn't in men's business? Luca slightly shook his head, disconcerted by the fact that the random wife of an enemy could behave so insolently with him while he could easily end her life with the gun he was hiding under his four-digit price jacket.
"In return for what?" His sharp eyes fixed intently on your dainty frame as he spoke. His expression, usually veiled in stoic composure, betrayed a keen attentiveness that mirrored his interest. Making himself comfortable on the barstool, he withdrew a matchbox from his pocket, its metallic surface catching the muted light. With languid grace, he extracted a match, the small stick cradled between his fingers, and brought it to his lips.
"Tommy Shelby." Your voice resounded like a chilling death knell when you pronounced these syllables nonchalantly as if selling one of your in-laws was nothing but one of the many formalities to retrieve your peaceful life. Such apathy was a bit chilling he reckoned. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he held the match delicately between his teeth. After a while, you eventually condescended to look at the man, your iris meeting the splendid green of his. The same green eyes that squinted a little bit now that they had a clear sight of your doll face, whose cold beauty made him wonder what the hell such a delicate thing like you was doing here, involving herself in the middle of intricating gang wars.
"Well, interesting." He mused, a part of him genuinely excited at the thought of butchering Tommy, the other still intrigued by you and how you contrasted with everything else around. No, how you contrasted with everything he had ever seen in his life. Changretta's features, chiseled and unyielding, remained an inscrutable mask, but beneath the surface, a calculated mind sought to see right through you. His posture exuded a quiet confidence despite your unsettling aura and ghostly appearance, a testament to the years of navigating the treacherous underworld of crimes.
"And why should I trust you?" He asked, going on with his observation of every tiny detail of your face. To be honest, Luca didn't imagine you like this. All he had been told about you was that you were the French harlot Arthur Shelby had married, some kind of bratty young girl who came from nowhere. At first, he was convinced that you would be nothing but boring at worst, or entertaining in your way of begging for your husband's life at best but you were none of these. Now that he was sitting next to you at the bar, discussing as if he hadn't murdered one of the most important people in your life, he found himself enthralled by the pure snow-white color of your long hair. More than your unusual hair color, what had surprised him the most was how your coldness cut with the softness of your physical traits. You felt like a walking paradox to him, your appearance conveying a message at the antithesis of what you truly were.
"Because it's all in my interest to see him dead and cold." You replied with a little shrug. Admittedly, you didn't imagine him like this. Quite the contrary, your mind had created the picture of a rat-faced gangster marked with ugly scars and vicious black eyes by dint of hearing how Arthur talked about him. Yet, here you were, facing a rather attractive gentleman with such atypical traits and a charismatic aura that your eternal coldness was slightly shaken. Men of these kinds were always the most dangerous, you thought with full knowledge of the facts. Luca Changretta was something: as slim as Arthur yet standing taller, his face was adorned with a seductive charm and an aquiline nose which rendered his features even more unique.
"Principessa" He started, sneering. Luca pushed the match to the other corner of his mouth with his tongue one last time before his sly fingers grabbed it to put it in the nearest ashtray. Then, his hand reached for the whisky glass the waiter had just put in front of him, "Allow me to doubt that. You are a Shelby, and I've heard your clan is tightly knitted together. Don't think of me fool enough to believe that a Shelby would want to kill another one." Luca concluded his accusation with a little head tilt as he swallowed his whisky in one go. A small grunt of pleasure escaped from his mouth at the pleasant burn the alcohol left in his trail.
"The only reason I bear the name Shelby is for my husband, not for anyone else. If you aren't aware of it may I suggest that your informants only did half of the job otherwise you should have known that Thomas had been nothing but a bane to my existence from the first day we met."
"A bane? That's not a trivial world to use when talking about your brother-in-law." Changretta's fingers, adorned with sleek rings, tapped against the wooden counter as a clear manifestation of his suspicions.
"Well, he had tried to strangle me, then blamed me for his son's abduction, and also for his brother's death and now he is actively seeking to ruin my marriage. I think "bane" is an appropriate way to call him. Now," You said with a little wave of the hand, "if my offer doesn't stir your interest I'd rather leave." When you shifted your body to stand up, Luca's immense hand gently rested on yours to invite you to sit back. The striking temperature difference between his warm flesh and the iciness of your skin gave him sudden goosebumps. Once you did sit back, his unimpressed mask cracked and moved on to an amused and fascinated smile that danced on his thin lips. It was a heavily murderous speech for such a little thing. If it wasn't for the frost you were made of, you would have made him think of his own more fire-coded wife.
"Let me tell you something. My mother was a very patient woman you know?" He said out of the blue with a softer voice, "I've never heard her raise her voice during all my childhood except once. That was one of the many reasons she was a teacher every kid loved. When she did yell at me I was a kid and I just saw a magnificent creature in my nonna's garden. It was an albino ferret, the most beautiful animal I've ever encountered. Straight out of a fairy tale with fur as pure as freshly fallen snow and little beady eyes as red as precious rubies. Usually, wild animals are skippish but that little fella didn't move away when I approached it. It seemed so quiet and docile that I decided to pet it. And do you know what the ferret did?" Luca leaned over you at his question, his face closer to yours and his smirk stretching in an evil grin, "It bit me. That fucking vermin sunk its sharp teeth into my skin and gave me one nasty bite. I still have the scar carved deep in my flesh up to this day. A bite scar among the gunshots and stab wounds." He paused for a while, his green eyes momentarily dropping to your swollen lips and lingering on the white pearly fangs he could glimpse at when you "tsk" at him. The air suddenly crackled with a palpable tension that thickened with every second flying by. Each of his silences loudly echoed the rising intensity of the moment one of you would snap at the other. But it never happened, and the only thing Luca did was grin even more, his squinted eyes meeting yours again. "Should have known it though, this fucking sausage rat had a twisted something in its red eyes. The same vile and twisted something as you, Amore."
His words, coated with honey but cutting like razor blades, made the corner of your plum lips subtlety curl in a dangerous but brief smirk too at the realization that all the rumors surrounding the Italian were true: he was devilishly clever. Maybe that was why you didn't manage to completely hate him despite his horrible actions. While your dainty body, your small size, and the far-too-seraphic complexions of your face often misled people about the brutality that was coursing through your cursed veins and the sickening void of your coal-black pupils, Luca didn't fall for any of them. Not even the glittery makeup and your big round eyes could make him ignore the creepy murmurs of the underlying Devil living in you. After a brief and uncomfortable silence that seemed to last one awful eternity, you finally parted your lips.
"Let me tell you something too," Your voice was a gentle melody, "Arthur and John should have killed your mother." Each word flowed like a soft breeze, carrying a subtle allure that only enhanced the cruelty of their meaning. Your lack of consideration for potentially hurting his feelings had taken him aback. " But they decided to spare her despite Little King Shelby's ruthless order. They genuinely wanted to do it out of sheer compassion" You pursed your lips and backed up from Luca, rolling your eyes. "Fuckin' idiots, they should have killed her when they had the chance." The mobster quickly moistened his lips, the faint surprised expression on his face vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
"His ruthlessness was right." He agreed, "They should have." Luca concluded, yet elaborating an arrangement with you didn’t seem to be his top priority suddenly. The mobster already knew he would grant you your wishes, the idea of having direct access to Tommy was too alluring to resist after all. What he wanted at his precise moment was… Different.   "You know, I don't fear being bitten anymore — the danger is a deliciously wicked part of the job I learned to accept and love. Considering this, Mrs, Shelby" He let his sentence hanged as he offered you the palm of his hand, long and bony fingers waiting for yours. "May I ask for a dance?" His eyes sparkled with an amusement that hinted at a hidden game, a dance of power between you and him. The seductive charm with which he invited you blurred the lines between rivalry and fascination.
"Do we have a deal?" You inquired with one brow raised, just to make sure he had taken notes of your terms.
"A deal for a dance." He slightly wiggled the fingers of his inviting hand. "Plus, you're already dancing with me in your own way."
A discreet and longer inhale escaped from your nostrils as you weighed the pros and cons but still you slipped your hand into his, which enveloped your skin with a tender strength. A little dance couldn't hurt anyone, you thought. Without further ado, Luca led the way to the dance floor as you both snaked in and out through the crowd until you reached a more spacious corner. It was the mafioso who initiated the dance. First, his grip strengthened around you: not to the extent of hurting you of course but definitely enough to make you understand that you were trapped. Then, his arm wrapped around your waist firmly like a snake. "Closer," He instructed and you obliged, taking a step toward him and placing your free upon his shoulder. After he set the rhythm, you started to move to the slow melody the orchestra was playing across the room. As the haunting music enveloped you, you moved in synchronized steps, your bodies entwined in a waltz that displayed outside tenderness while your eyes held a sharp glint of adversaries locked in an unspoken battle.
Come now, dance with me as the song plays.
With each twirl and turn, the odd and gripping tension you shared thickened, just like an intricate tango of conflicting emotions. As soft as the dance had started, it was gradually turning into a visceral yet elegant battlefield where intimidation and seduction engaged in a delicate but fierce fight.
Down down, dance with me stuck on replay.
Your heart leaped in your tight ribcage at a sudden dip, your hair hanging down like a silver cascade, and your gaze set on the golden sculpted ceiling that quickly flashed in front of your eyes before disappearing, replaced by Luca's intense green eyes again.
Down down, dance with me stuck on replay.
"Don't be shy Amore," He cooed with a charming wink before pulling you even closer to him until your body collided with his. You stopped breathing for a short moment, shutting your eyes when you realized that your face was almost nuzzled in the crook of his neck. In that fleeting moment, you relinquished a fraction of your resistance, swept away by the remote yet familiar feeling of letting someone guide you without any need to think— or maybe that was the sweet fragrance of his cologne which pleasantly tingled your nostrils that woke up memories anchored deep within your mind. From the way he moved to how he behaved, from the luxurious place to the languid melody of the piano, everything was bringing you years ago, back in the comforting arms of your first fiance.
And you hated how pleasant it felt. You viscerally hated it.
Both the song's tempo and Luca's steps fastened as he noticed the subtle change in your facial expression, slowly turning your graceful dance into a dizzying and confusing round. His piercing gaze bore into your soul, daring it to reveal its vulnerability. The room seemed to spin around you and yet, you clenched your jaw and forced yourself to maintain an unmoved facade. No. You wouldn't sink into melancholia. Gathering all your willpower, you chased away the panic that crept within you and felt a rush of anger toward Luca for daring to reopen an old wound you tried to heal every day of your life since you left France. And with anger came the end of your self-control.
To hell with Tommy's plan, you could put an end to this exhausting vendetta yourself by killing the infamous Luca Changretta right here, right now.
Guided by your murderous nature, you started to focus on his heartbeat as soon as you regained control of the dance, forcing him to slow down the pace. In a thorough study of his pulse, you could clearly hear the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat resounding in his chest, and even counted how many times it beat in one minute. And the more you listened to it, the more music faded away in the background.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Killing him would be a piece of cake considering the horrific magic that was coursing through your veins, the magic of blood and flesh. All you would have to do was accelerate his pulse until it became too much for his body to bear. In a minute, Luca would drop to the ground, limp and dead. No blood, no fight, just the sudden and inevitable consequences of a heart attack. Quite different from the gruesome and slow death you had wished to inflict upon Tommy the day he had crossed the line.
"You're a great dancer, Miss Shelby." The mobster stated, having no choice but to follow your slower pace. Now you were the one leading the dance, "Did your husband teach you? I must admit that I have all the trouble of the world imagining Arthur Shelby being good at waltzing." He had already trouble imagining how the most rabid of these Gypsy bastards could have pulled you, to be honest. His tastes regarding women might not encompass you but, God, he thought that your place wasn't beside a man like Arthur Shelby since you could easily be a trophy wife for a classy and far more powerful criminal. Or some blue blood, but these were the same except the latter legally robbed people.
"Arthur is far better at dancing than what he seems but it wasn't him who taught me." Your reply was sharper than intended.
Another dip, smoother this time.
"Another man?"
"Yes."
"So you've been married before." It wasn't a question, it was a statement for the mafioso had easily decypher your micro-expressions despite your best efforts to hide them.
"Engaged. We didn't make it to the actual wedding."
Kill him. Kill him now.
The fingers that were resting on his shoulder dug deeper into his jacket as you channeled the gift your mother had passed you the day of your birth. It could have gone unnoticed if you hadn't paid attention but Luca's eyebrows slightly frowned, not understanding why his heart had started racing like that all of sudden.
"That's a shame. And how does one lose a woman like you? If I had been him I would have rather locked you in the house than let you flee." Luca grinned, his charming voice steady but the way he clenched his jaw betrayed the building pain he was feeling in his chest. Men were all the same: too much ego to show that they were in distress.
"Well, that's how he lost a woman like me." No matter the exact nature of the impact your words had on him it did trigger something within his soul. On top of a literal ache in his heart, his wedding ring became suddenly heavier. In the dance's rhythmic embrace, your witchcraft went on with poisoning Luca's very core. Yet, as the enchantment unfolded, an unforeseen consequence took hold. The more you delved into your mystical powers, the more the mobster's pain echoed within your own body in an unexpected symbiosis. Except that it wasn't in the heart you suffered, but in the belly.
The baby.
You backed up from Luca with a movement so quick it looked like you had touched hot-red metal, hence putting an abrupt end to the dance. A discreet growl fell from the man's lips for when the physical contact broke his heart resumed to a normal pace and the pain mysteriously disappeared. As well as yours.
"Enough fun for tonight." You said with hast, and Luca hadn't the quick thinking to keep you from doing so — the odd and unpredictable behavior of his heart was too concerning for him to carry on with this odd meeting.
"Hm. Yeah, don't forget about our deal." He replied, smoothing the fold of his tailored suit before slowly and discreetly pressing the left side of his chest with the palm of his hand.
" And don't forget to send my regards to your wife Aurora, who seems to be exactly a woman like me." You spat one last taunt with the most polite smile you could make before turning your heels and leaving this damn room.
What the hell had just happened?
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According to Tommy, everything went perfectly. Satisfied with the outcome of your mission — and genuinely surprised you hadn't fucked up everything by your rebellious attitude or just for the sheer satisfaction of getting under his skin —, the lead pack dog of the Peaky Blinders went on with the Vendetta. Actually, the one who fucked up the whole plan hadn't been you, but rather Tommy himself following the failure of his surprise attack against Luca. He might have killed a few Italians in the process, but his initial target was still alive and in very good health conditions. A flash of anger and frustration coursed through your body when he told the family about it: here you were back to the start, with Luca not willing to give you a second chance and being more enraged than he already was when he came to England. None of it would have happened if you had listened to your instincts and killed him yourself. Served you right for trusting Tommy's plan for once. And for being reluctant to use the monstrous magic nature gave you. But there had also been... Something else. That weird and unplanned pain in your belly when you had used your magic. With all of this, the cherry on the top was probably Tommy's decision to carry on with today's boxing fight despite it being an obviously awful idea but of course, no one listened to you. Why would they? Tommy always knew better. Tommy always won. Tommy this. Tommy that.
You sighed loudly as you walked through the empty corridor, the cacophony of the crowd turning into a hushed noise when you reached the huge squared mirror that was hanging from the wall. There were so many people gathered in the building that accessing the bathroom would have taken both your precious time and your thin tolerance to social events. That was why you decided to look for a mirror or a window further away to add a few late touches to your makeup as well as to rearrange your hair. You had just finished putting another layer of mascara on your Bambi lashes and grabbed your lip gloss when a gravelly and familiar voice resounded in the hallway.
“I went looking for you.” The voice made you instantly relax, its baritone lilt holding the unique power of blowing your troubles away, both the past and the present ones. With one small yet graceful spin, you turned around to meet Arthur’s slim silhouette that was standing in the doorway. His sharp face, usually displaying a strict look, soon turned soft at the sight of you about to apply gloss on your tantalizing lips, “I thought you’d be in here.”
"And you thought right." You replied with an enamored smile. Arthur was quite delighted by the boxing fight, so there was no need to impede his joy with your concerns. Moreover, he was surely the only thing that kept you anchored during this confusing and stressful period.
The gangster approached you with slow steps and his steel blue eyes shone brighter the more he closed the distance between you and him. “I knew it, always seeking quiet places before a party to doll you up and take a deep breath...” He concluded, visibly proud to display his infinite knowledge about his beloved wife, which made you melt. Then, he stopped right in front of you, "Got a lil' something for me angel." Arthur didn't leave you the time to wonder what it was all about for one of his large hands slipped from behind his back and pulled a white Azalea from it, “Look what I’ve found. Almost as beautiful as you, eh?”  The way his face enlightened with the happiest and most genuine smile ever was something you never got bored of. Quite the contrary, it breathed life back into you each time. The ice of your eyes melted at such an endearing gift, turning your frozen traits into a child-like expression with your plump lips forming a silent ‘o’.
“For me? Really? Arthur, you shouldn't have!” You said with an excited but still quieter voice than his booming one. You couldn't believe he found the time to look for you in the middle of tonight's chaos.
"I wanted you to keep a little something with you in case you start panicking eh." He purred, low and gruff voice making his chest rumble. "Are you sure ya don't want me to stay with you?" You preyed the flower from his rough fingers delicately, actively trying not to break its fragile petals, and slipped it in your long silvery mane under your Arthur's tender gaze — he couldn’t help but smirk, enthralled by your beauty just like the first time he had met you, three years ago.
"We already talked about it. Go have fun alright? I'll stay with the women. Moreover, I know Tommy will ask you to stay near him and I'd rather avoid your boring brother, who can't crack a fucking smile for the life of his." You lift yourself on your tip toes to press a kiss on Arthur's jaw. His eyes half-closed at the silky sensation of your lips against his face.
"A very clever move that is. D'ya like the flower? The florist helped me, bet she took pity on me 'cos I looked very lost but she just made me even more confused with all the info she was dumping ay."
A sincere chuckle escaped from your throat at the thought of the lanky and rude gangster standing in the middle of a flower shop with a confused look on his face. Yup, it definitely sounded like something Arthur would do. “So how did you choose the Azalea?” You pondered with innocent curiosity.
“Well, I don't know jackshit about that flower language stuff. I only know roses and you hate ‘em.” He admitted with a smile, cupping your face with his two hands to lay a peck on your nose.  As trivial as this detail was he still remembered it and the mix of attention paired with the significance behind your loathing for roses made you swell with love for him. It came even more surprising considering that you only told him about your dislike for roses once during one of the nightly walks you took around the church days after your first encounter.  "So I just picked the one that made me think about ya the most, love." He admitted, his hands leaving your face to grip you by the hips bluntly as he peppered you with kisses. Another chuckle fell from your mouth at the tickle of his mustache against your skin.
"No, no, you'll ruin my makeup!" You playfully exclaimed. Trying to flee from his mouth, you tilted your head to the side and gave his stubbled cheek a gentle bite.
“Hey! I bring ye a flower and you thank me with a bite? Ye feral little thing!”
You gave him a second one without waiting for him to finish his sentence, "You're the one to blame. You’re so cute I just want to nibble you.” You replied, completely obliterating the remote noise as well as all the concerns you have been mulling over these past few days. Instead of anxiety, you were now possessed by joy and cuteness aggression, “I swear you look stupidly handsome.” You added with a pout, the target of your small bites shifting from his cheek to his sharp jaw. Arthur hummed, his lips sewn shut in a peaceful smile — he didn't even bother to flee from your teeth, "Alright, go find Tommy before I tear your suit apart."
"Wouldn't mind that, little one." His voice became raspier with anticipation. It seemed like your suggestion had already planted the seed of desire in his mind, for he already started pawing at your body. Nevertheless, your hands caught his wrists to keep him from doing so.
"No, no, no. My makeup is perfect and my dress too expensive for you to ruin it now." You reminded him with a soft laugh.
"Fuck me." The gangster complained but still obliged, keeping his hands to himself. However, the light mood was soon eroded by the question he didn't dare to ask you earlier. Caught in the weight of his demand, his smile dropped a little, "Eeer... Before I leave" He paused, "I wanted to ask you somethin'."
"Hm?"
Arthur let out a long sigh and looked for something inside the pocket of his trousers all the while rambling, "That's a rare occasion tonight. I mean, a good boxing fight with the new Gold lad I coach and an upcoming party that might last all night long y'know. A really great program that is. Exhausting too." His fingers nervously fidgeted with something inside his pocket. His usually relaxed demeanor was replaced by tense shoulders and furrowed brows. Despite his efforts to appear composed, the strain was palpable, lingering in the air as he gathered all his courage. It was after a long hesitation that he finally took a tiny blue vial out and the simple view of it turned your joyful face into deadly ice again.
"Are you serious?" Your voice, a freezing breeze, cut through the air with a stern cadence, "Are you fucking serious, Arthur William Shelby Jr?" Your grip around the small lip gloss you were holding strengthened so much that the skin of your knuckles whitened.
"Hey, that's okay love." Arthur leaned in close. With gentle eyes that mirrored his sincerity, he spoke softly, trying to convey reassurance in each word as your anger simmered. "I didn't take any of it."
"Oh yeah?"
"Nah. Told ya I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice." The gangster lowered his head just like a terrorizing but gentle mutt would do to show his submission, "I wanted to ask if ya allowed me to take some tonight? Ya told me I could if it remained occasional. Wasn't going to take it in your back, I swear." Wrapping yourself in threatening silence, you stood like a tempest in the quiet aftermath, your posture rigid with the echoes of anger. The storm in your eyes gradually subsided, replaced by a contemplative gaze that softened the hard expression of your seraphic face. As the storm clouds of your fury dispersed, a calm determination settled upon you instead. Arthur bit his lips, mustache twitching as he did so, for time seemed suspended as you collected your thoughts and tried to regain control over your fury. You breathed deep and slow while Arthur held his, awaiting your reply and wondering if your reaction would be born from the storm or from the calm eye at its center.
"Give." You said, your melodious and quiet voice breaking the silence, then you snatched the bottle from his hand. Quickly looking to your left and then to your right to make sure no one could interrupt you, you first opened the lipgloss and proceeded to pour the white powder inside your makeup vial. Once this was done, you handed back the empty blue bottle to Arthur and mixed the cocaine with your lipgloss with the help of the small brush, "I have to admit that you're making a great deal of effort. Thank you for asking, I really... Appreciate it." The gangster stood silent and dumbstruck, wondering what the hell you could be doing. "And I did say you could take some snow occasionally." You brought the brush to your lips and carefully applied a great amount of the glistening liquid on your flesh. "So yes, you can take snow tonight... But you'll have to lick it from my lips so that when you kiss me you think I'm God." You smooched your lips together and then smiled, a wicked and tantalizing smirk that sent a sudden wave of fever through his whole being. Arthur swallowed, his gaze fixed upon the enticing curve of your lips. In the stillness of the moment, desire stirred within him, a smoldering ember ignited by the mere sight of you mixed with the sinful words you just spoke. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the subtle movements of your mouth, each gesture a silent invitation that beckoned him closer.
"I already do." He breathed with a low growl, his fervid passion turning his lean body into a shaky mess. With each passing second, the intensity of his longing grew, consuming him in a fiery embrace. His heart pounded in his chest, every fiber of his being yearned to bridge the distance between you, to taste the sweet and spice that lingered on your lips. With no more persuading needed, Arthur grabbed your face rough and let his mouth collide with yours, the kiss as brutal as a car crash. His scorching and rapid breath fanned over your skin as he licked your lips from the right corner to the left, the caress of his warm tongue making you moan against his wet flesh. Caught in the fire of desire — and definitely aroused by his carelessness— your trembling hands found rest upon his back, your nails digging into the expensive fabric of his jacket. An immediate wave of euphoria unfurled in his brain when the cocaine saturated his synapses. As needful moans raised in the corridor, Arthur couldn't tell if that was the drug or you that kickstarted his heart and dilated his pupils, but in any case, he was experiencing the most exquisite high he had ever had.
"Fuck." Arthur grunted with pleasure and gave several other licks until none of your gloss remained, then his tongue forced its way between your lips, not minding whether you had time to catch your breath or not because you were the real drug in the end. His deepest and most maddening addiction. "A fookin" Goddess you are hm."
"Arthur, Tommy's looking for—" Johnny Dog didn't finish his sentence, eyes wide open. " I just interrupted something right?" He finally blurted out, the initial shock of walking into such a steamy scene turning into the most annoying smile ever.
"Yeah, yeah Tommy. Alright." He repeated as he tried to break from the haziness. Arthur grunted, his lips still a few inches away from yours and your erratic breath melting together. Giving him one last peck —far more delicate than what you were doing one minute ago— you mouthed a silent "go" and forced yourself to resist the attraction of the invisible magnet that was inevitably pulling you towards the lanky criminal. "Alright!" Arthur roared when he turned back to you, clasping his hands together and walking to Johnny Dog with a carnivorous grin and dilated pupils. The Lee man slapped the eldest Shelby brother's back and, right before he go, shot you a little wink.
Their voices could still be heard when they walked away.
"Gonna wait a bit longer before getting your dick wet, boy."
"Shut the fuck up you fookin' cunt ay and let's watch the fight. I'm feeling bloodthirsty eh."
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Three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.
"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"
Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and disgusting scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.
"Arthur!"
You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses drowned in a deafening symphony of tinnitus, a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.
"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him, "Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream. A haunting and otherworldly scream which pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.
The tall Italian man twitching on the ground, choking in his own blood, should have been proud of his successful attack on the eldest Shelby brother. And yet, all he could do was stare at you horrified, his eyes reflecting the terror of his soul.
"D— Diàvulu..." He mouthed, as death came like the most wonderful relief, bringing his sinner soul far away from you, for even in Hell he'd feel safer.
Anywhere, as long as you weren't there.
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chrollohearttags · 1 year
Text
containment • e. jaeger
synopsis: you’re the newest female guard at an all male prison. No one said it’d be easy but you were prepared for anything..except the new inmate on your cell block.
themes: forbidden romance/relationship, prisoner eren, modern au, correctional officer reader (black and fem coded) power play, lots of fantasizing and masturbation, consensual sex, he’s also a heavy switch and minors do not and i cannot stress this e-fucking-nough..interact!
cw:3.5K
📝: I’m up at 3am, letting my insane thoughts win again so please don’t hold this against me if it’s too long or just wild in general but this is just some notes/imagines to what will be a full, multi-part fic eventually, just wanted to mainly focus on the spicy stuff for now.
you were one of the only three female guards to ever work at the state’s all male maximum security prison. A facility notorious for housing some of the county’s most terrifying criminals..naturally, it was said to be no place for a woman and you were subjected to harassment, heckling and sometimes violence but you didn’t allow it to stop your goals. As physically strong as you were stubborn, you didn’t fear them in the slightest.
it was only six months after your assignment to the close containment unit that he was put onto your floor and things began to shift..an inmate by the name of eren jaeger; he was most certainly different from the other convicts you made contact with on a daily basis…
never gives you a hard time, always complied and is always in his cell either drawing or reading. If they didn’t give him time off for good behavior, you didn’t know who would get it. Also was super intelligent.
sort of intimidated the other guards and prisoners because of his eerie silence. They didn’t know why he’d been on a floor like this but act so well behaved. no one ever got on his bad side though..they knew better because he’d remind them why he was locked up in the first place.
has a slick ass mouth and every time you asked what he was there for, his response was “whatever they say I did.”
you didn’t make it your mission to be chummy with the prisoners, but he made the job a bit more tolerable. “good morning, officer (l/n)..” it was how he always greeted you..in addition to a little faint smile and telling you how pretty you were that day, whether barefaced or with some light makeup on and oddly enough, he always knew the scent of your perfume. “I can compliment my favorite guard, can’t I? Is that allowed?” the sarcasm and sweet gestures were something you had grown accustomed to. “You’re as cute as you are dangerous, Jaeger. Too bad for you, they don’t reduce sentences for adorable one liners.” although those words should have meant nothing come from a criminal…
it’s one day, however..when you were seeing him off to library cleanup duty that it went from harmless flirtation to a heated, forbidden love affair. “Not to be gross or anything but I gotta go take a piss, officer. I’ve been holding it since we left the cell.” he had been working diligently without a break for two hours so you’d allow it.
never had to worry about him trying anything as he had seen you take down men twice his size by yourself and even had subdued him once after a fight was incited by somebody else but he didn’t back down. (an ass whooping from you he’d soon never forget).
during that little bathroom break, you accidentally caught a glimpse of what he was working with…down south! You’d try to look away but really couldn’t help yourself. The man was hung like a horse. As a guard, you were to remain professional so the thoughts had to subside.
it was all but inevitable when you’d take him to the rec yard for exercise and you’d watch him do curl ups on the metal bars. His entire muscular back and arms riddled in tattoos; some professional pieces and others by the tip of an ink pen etched in prison. It’d be a huge violation if you’d ever acted on them and to you, that’s what made the fantasy all the more hotter.
on the trip back to finish up his last bit of library work, he utters something to you that made you freeze… “I know you were watching me earlier, officer..in the bathroom. I could feel those pretty little eyes of yours staring. Such a pervert.” Muttering sarcastically because his nasty ass loved the thought! To which you’d call his bluff and ask him so what if you were and he’d double down on it. “Then next time I’ll let you come help.” He always had a witty, smart mouthed comeback for everything.
it was getting harder to deny the sexual tension that was brewing though and as it were only the two of you left, the banter would become more and more risqué. Completely inappropriate and wrong but it felt so right..
“Can I get a good night kiss?” asks it every night when you take him back to his cell, to which you’d only ignore and instead, shove a stick of gum between his lips as a reward for his hard work..it was as close it were going to get for now.
it was when you got home that those disgusting desires could run rampant. In the solitude of your shower or bedroom, you were free to fantasize about this man and all of the things you wanted him to do you. Touching yourself, wishing it were him…a filthy criminal. From pinning your legs back and pumping you full of dick. Slapping, choking and tugging on your hair. Riding his pretty little face as you came all over his tongue. unbeknownst, he felt the same.
truthfully, it couldn’t be helped..watching the plump curvature of your ass sway in those black uniform cargos and your big supple tits tightly stuffed into that grey polo with the prison’s insignia on the left breast pocket every day drove him crazy. Those plump, juicy lips always covered in gloss that he wouldn’t mind shoving his cock between. Holding your head still while he throat fucks you into oblivion. And he just knew that pussy was fat with a mean grip. Many of nights had he lied in this cell, quietly stroking himself to the thought of his favorite guard bouncing on his dick, riding him before he’d take over and fuck up into you..smacking that round ass as he covers it in baby oil.
hearing you cry out his name..telling him how big it is as he forces all nine of those thick inches in you until it fits..just a few of the dozens of scenarios he’d play in his dirty, perverted mind. It had been years since he’d felt the touch of a woman so it was hard to restrain himself. He’d end up biting his sheets a way to gag his moans as his enclosed fist pumped until he’d splatter a giant nut all over his knuckles. Luckily he was alone in here.
when you returned to work a couple days later, that steamy tension had reached its boiling point and during day duty, you couldn’t take anymore. You needed him now! Favor was in your corner because he happened to be caught with cigarettes he smuggled from another inmate, which would have been a big infraction.
but instead, you snuck him off to a nearby closet where he’d become your personal fuck toy for the afternoon in exchange for your silence. It was his own damn fault..violating the rules and looking so damn good all the time. And he didn’t hesitate!
“You can keep a secret, can’t you, officer? I promise I won’t tell if you won’t.” taunting as he forced you back on his thick cock with his shackled hands. He’s made you squirt more times than any man ever has and it had been so long since he’d been in some pussy and especially one this tight so you had to keep him quiet because he was losing his shit. Didn’t hold it against him when he came too quick and..inside of you because you had been waiting a long time for it.
now, it’s become a regular occurrence. You can’t leave him alone and vice versa. Makes sure that no one else give you a hard time ever again and would handle it personally if they did. Guards included..in return you make sure he gets a little more on his commissary or drops him in a few cigarettes or snacks when it’s permitted. Even letting him get extra time outside, just so you could have him to yourself.
Can’t exactly communicate via cell phones so he writes you love letters that he hides in areas around the prisons for you to read when you get home. Full of filthy detail of how he’d be fucking you if he were a free man, how much he adores you and of course, all the trouble the two of you will get into the next time his beloved CO comes into work.
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arecaceae175 · 1 year
Text
I’m rewatching Phineas and Ferb (it’s my fav comfort show) and it’s SO full of autism. SO FULL
Ferb is autistic
Phineas is autistic and ADHD
Candace is autistic
Dr. Doofenshmirtz is autistic and ADHD and has CPTSD
Their dad is autistic
Their mom has ADHD
I will not be taking criticism. My qualifications are that I'm autistic XD
I can go into detail AND I WILL
Ferb
Nonverbal!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Non!!!!! Verbal!!!!!
In the episode where they make an animal translator Phineas talks about how Ferb has a lot of thoughts, he just can’t say them out loud
Special interest in engineering and building and such
Incredible imagination
He can’t show emotions on his face
He doesn’t respond to social cues
He and Phineas are each others special interest person
In the Aglet episode when Candace is making fun of their dad for not looking up “aglet” on the computer Phineas explains to Ferb that “removing prepositions makes it more condescending”
“The cartilaginous fibers from the bovine patella structure that gelatin’s extracted from gives it that fun, bouncy quality.”
When he does speak, it’s monotone and often a fun fact- perhaps because he doesn’t know how else to connect to people through his words
He’s nonverbal!!!!! 😄😄😄😄😄😄
Same routine every day. They do the same things at the same time (different inventions but same routine) and even have their alarms set to 7 in the summer
In the bully breakup episode he has trouble with the routine change. He tells Phineas he felt like he would scream if he couldn't build something
In the episode where they all try to figure out where their inventions go every day, at the end of the episode Candace is really upset because it disappeared and she doesn't know why. Ferb realized she's upset but isn't sure how to help so he says a science fact "Well, we were all watching it. And quantum theory states that the mere observation of an experiment changes its outcome."
He's nonverbal / semi-verbal and it makes me so happy
Phineas
Hyper verbal
Candace’s busting attempts go completely over his head
Special interest in engineering and building things
Incredible imagination
He talks over other people a lot and doesn’t notice
He and Ferb are each others special interest person
Special relationship with animals, specifically Perry
He repeats the same phrases every episode
Has trouble recognizing sarcasm
He doesn’t really have social awareness
His voice is very often monotone
He hyperfocuses on the inventions
Same routine every day. They do the same things at the same time (different inventions but same routine) and even have their alarms set to 7 in the summer
In the bully breakup episode he has trouble with the routine change. He keeps suggesting things to build to get back to their routine
But despite the routine he doesn't know what they're building until the day of because he also needs spontaneity
Candace
Has trouble focusing except when focusing on busting
Can't focus on other things when focused on busting
Special interest in busting Phineas and Ferb
Other special interest Ducky MoMo and collects items for it
Hyper verbal
Very focused on routine
In the episode where she’s sick and she tries to get Stacy to bust Phineas and Ferb, but she isn’t able to let Stacy take the lead and ends up getting out of bed when she isn’t really well enough to do the busting
VERY black and white thinking
Candace stims a lot!!!!!
She has trouble learning to drive (which is very common in neurodivergent people)
Has trouble making friends
She scripts conversations
Repeats the same phrases every day
Overanalyzes social situations because she has trouble understanding them
She’s obsessed with being cool and fitting in because she doesn’t naturally understand social cues
“I calculate that soon must mean first thing in the morning, since ‘soon’ can’t refer to a period in excess of or equal to 24 hours give or take a 59 minute cushion of time on either side of the event in question.”
Has a lot of childhood toys that she refuses to get rid of
She mentions in one episode that she feels like her room is too childish and she isn’t as mature as others her age (difference in maturity to neurotypical peers)
She doesn’t join in when her friends play with Phineas and Ferb because of her rigid thinking that she has to bust them. Even when they want her to play or hang out with them, she often doesn't realize it and can't let herself
When she reads Sherlock Holmes she copies his personality and phrases
Hyperfixated on the book series and read the whole thing in a single night
She plays every instrument that starts with B
Grilled cheese safe food
Goes into the panic room when overwhelmed or something is outside routine
Dr. Doofenshmirtz
Special interest in making evil scemes
He monologues to Perry every day about his special interest
Bad posture (common in autistic people)
Stims a lot
Repetitive thinking (inators)
Echolalia
In one episode Vanessa is trying to talk to him about something and he keeps getting distracted by echolalia and stim-speaking his words
He only interacts with animals on a regular basis and when he has to talk to people he is very socially awkward
Inattentive, forgetful, unorganized
A lot of his inators have to do with his childhood trauma
Norm the robot helps him with home tasks
Face blindness- he can’t recognize Perry unless he’s wearing his hat
Dad
Vocal stimming!
“Fossils! Bum bum bum.” (fun fact this is a vocal stim of mine!!!!!)
Special interest in antiques and gladiator movies
He has a huge collection of gladiator movies
In the lake nose monster episode he’s telling phineas and ferb stories and completely unaware of anything else happening while he’s talking (infodumping)
Hyperfixated on buying stars and buys a TON in one day
Also gives someone a star as a tip and doesn't realize why that might not be appreciated
Mom
Different interest/activity every episode
She gets hyperfixated on the activity and has trouble leaving it to come home or answer Candace's calls
Oblivious to the boys' antics
I’m gonna keep coming back to update this as I rewatch so it will eventually be the Ultimate List of Autism ™.
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vrisrezis · 1 year
Note
If your willing, general romantic hcs for rocket raccoon?
Yay first rocket rqqq ! Pls ask more I love this mf . For the record your a biologically enhanced animal experiment like rocket in all of my rocket x readers unless you guys state otherwise in your rqs. Light spoilers for gotg vol 3, if you know about his past anyways. Even then I don’t greatly spoil his past.
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- Dating rocket can be rather stressful. Though the girls of your little family of misfits are typically fine, quill and drax tend to tease the hell out of your boyfriend. While it can be annoying from time to time, it’s typically funny. Even groot has his own share of light teasing, but it’s really just him saying things outright and being a little too honest.
- also yknow. Getting constantly attacked by people your family happens to piss off also can be stressful at times.
- but all that shit aside, your boyfriend can be rather.. stressful to be with at first. And there’s a lot of shit you have to tolerate when it comes to him.
- you MUST be able to deal with his constant sarcasm and light insults towards you, to be perfectly honest I can’t imagine him with anyone easily hurt or too soft. You have to be a very strong motherfucker to be willing to deal with his shit.
- however, despite his personality he is a tiny bit softer around you and even if it’s not noticeable to you it certainly is to literally everyone else on your shared ship.
- rocket can be difficult to deal with, but so long as you’re patient enough with him he becomes less difficult to be around and a lot softer as time goes by.
- you’ll notice that he insults you a lot less, and they seem less like insults and more like light jokes to make you laugh. Light teasing. But the sarcasm doesn’t ever wither away. Though he’s not as sarcastic with you.
- rocket, over time, is very into physical affection but is not good at admitting it. It takes a very long time for him to become comfortable with you being affectionate physically with him, but once he grows used to it he loves it. He .. won’t ever tell you that but man if he doesn’t make it obvious.
- over time rocket with lightly, lowkey flirt with you, until it just kinda becomes straight up, shameless flirting the longer you are together.
- rocket also becomes bolder as time goes by, initiating or even asking for some affection if he’s feeling particularly needy.
- while he tends to not do this in front of the others, the longer you guys date the more accepting he becomes of pda.
- likes to cuddle a lot, also insists you sleep with him often. Claims it’s in case groot needs something while he’s sleeping so you’re also there but.. you know he just wants to sleep with you lol.
- lets you pet him :) sometimes he purrs when he’s really relaxed
- (will pet you too low key)
- rocket is overprotective often, and very jealous.
- he has many insecurities, so it’s only natural he gets jealous especially if he thinks anyone is into you (most likely not, but still).
- he’s also lost many people, the first friends he ever had, his entire family during the blip, he even lost groot when he first met that family. He’s protective for good reason.
- losing you is his worst fear
- he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, so he shows it through making you things, fixing you things, and just… gift giving in general. If he notices you eyeing something for too long, he’s definitely getting it one way or another. Even if it means he has to steal it. Especially if it means he has to steal it.
- likes to listen to you talk while he tinkers with whatever the hell
- he kinda says a lot of offhanded shit that makes it sound like he’s not listening that much, but he’s hanging on your every word
- while shy with a lot of stuff in the beginning of your relationship as time goes by he is quite bold
- holds your hand a lot, likes to just feel your hands in his? It’s easy to drag you in case danger comes, it’s nice to feel your warmth and feel the comfort of you being there. It also helps that physical affection isn’t his go to all the time and it’s not like a huge amount of contact in comparison to hugs. (Not that he minds physical affection with you, though).
- he sucks at apologies, he just makes/tinkers your shit for you to make up for being a jackass. But he will apologize if you two had a serious fight.
- always willing to let go of his ego if it meant you’d forgive him after a serious altercation. But yknow, it would have to be REALLY bad.
- might even make you food as an apology lol very rare since he doesn’t make food for anybody
- likes to kiss you on the cheek a lot, sometimes on the lips but his go to is to kiss your cheek
- he will open up to you, but it takes a very long time. You are the one person he truly trusts and opens up to but it’s usually when he’s having a nightmare or something. He tends to not want to focus on his past, so he doesn’t talk about it. A part of him just wants to forget that was ever his life so as a result doesn’t talk about it to anybody unless he gets a nightmare that reminds him of his torture.
- it also makes it easy that you’re like him and know what he’s been through so, lol.
- hates seeing you cry, will actually beat the shit outta anyone that makes you cry and if he is ever the reason he feels like the biggest asshole in the galaxy
- while it does take him an extremely long time to open up to you, he will encourage you to open up to him. He’s very understanding if it takes you time too, but will be ultimately hurt if you tell the other guardians anything about yourself that he doesn’t know. (Unless you had some history with one of them prior to meeting him cause that would make more sense to him).
- bad at comforting but wants to be the one there for you
- surprise! Rocket actually likes hugging you but you guys never hug because he seems so against it anytime you hug him. He secretly is a big fan
- anytime you compliment him he’s just kinda like “yeah yeah”
- calls you nicknames btw :) “doll” is a favorite one of his. However he also likes classic ones like “babe, baby, hun, honey, sweetie” sometimes even “sweetheart” and likes if you do the same
- nuzzles his face in your neck/chest when he sleeps
- while rocket can be rather selfish at times, he always thinks of you first, or at least tries to. Which is a lot coming from him.
- if you guys had a hammock, he would actually just love lazing around with you two on a hammock
- when you two are sleeping together he’s very cuddly, if you have to get up for any reason at all he starts to growl and tells you not to move
- “rock I have to pee” “not my problem.” “It is going to be when I pee everywhere!” “Ok now you just made it weird.”
- I can imagine before you started dating the two of you were like the bestest of friends lol.
- gets nightmares often about losing you
- tends to.. show off from time to time.. when you first met he showed off how smart he was at making scraps of metal into literal bombs, or how good of a shooter he is, or how good of a pilot he is, etc. he LOVES to show off because he just loves the idea of impressing you
- this also comes from a place of insecurity and just thinking he’s not that great or competent
- yes, he does purr when he’s very relaxed typically when he’s asleep :)
- don’t tell him you heard him tho he will get mad at you for “invading his privacy” lol
- just the biggest softie for you if you give him time and have the patience of a saint
- he’s kinda aware he’s a lot to deal with, and is eternally grateful for your patience and for your love and kindness
- because honestly people being kind to him? Loving him for him? Not something he’s used to. And honestly something he’s scared of, because of how foreign it is to him.
- and also take the fact everyone that ever cared about him has died at some point (like other than nebula, honestly) you can imagine his fear of letting others into his life, especially when he cares about you so much.
- can I just say… boop his nose? He tries not to laugh every goddamn time
- rare moments where rocket is sentimental talking to Peter and is like “idk I just feel happy for some reason” and just looks at you with a lovesick smile and Peter is like… “hmm… wonder why..”
- speaking of Peter he teases the hell outta you two because he genuinely thinks you guys are adorable. Drax does the same. Mantis on occasion, but not as much lol.
- also thor ships you guys too btw <3 like hardcore he is so annoying about y’all LMFAO
- I can imagine y’all playing with eachother like… him just chasing you around on all fours for fun, trying to tackle you to the ground
- kinda reminds him of when he was little, the good times he had, anyway.
- also you taking care of any of his injury’s, no matter how big or small, is cathartic for him. He likes feeling like he doesn’t always have to take care of himself, or be alone. You have his back, you can take care of him for once, you can protect him too. (It certainly helps that the first act of kindness towards him was lyla easing his pain so LOL).
- if he ever has to take care of your injuries, he will. He’s willing to take care of any injury you get, though if he knows it’s not a huge deal he tries not to make it a huge thing. But he tends to.. overreact anyways and gets overprotective and tells you (more like yells at you) to be more careful.
- kinda steals your stuff
- likes an s/o that finds him funny, but also isn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit even if he finds it annoying in the moment, he grows as a person because of it
- when you guys stay in knowhere together, much more time for cuddles since you have your own space to relax
- also way more space for him to chase you around all over the place lol
- also low key being parents to all the little raccoons rocket now has with him… 😪
- he’s started to accept a lot of your kind gestures as you caring for him and being nice to him, instead of it being charity work or because you pity him for some reason, he still gets grumpy when he sees your gifts in his line of sight tho
- Would probably blame himself if you ever got hurt, but wouldn’t utter a word of it to anyone. Would probably end up telling you though because everytime he’d look at you the guilt would increase. Probably resulting in him not looking at you for awhile until you get him to spill.
- also if he ever thought you were dead (perhaps during the blip) again, blames himself hard and cries A LOT. Holds onto any possessions you may have had that were important to you. He makes it his goal to keep them safe for you. Would also wear your clothes quite a bit. Sometimes when he’s about to go to bed he just smells your clothes, and thinks about how much it smells like you and just cries.
- ANGST ASIDE!!!
- what a lovely guy to be with who loves you unconditionally, truly
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jake-webber · 2 months
Note
I am weak for vampire!Sam and demon!Colby if you want to write something 'bout that
the way my mind already knew who im associating this au with. @samandcolby-ownme my beloved thank you for introducing this au to me. i give all credits to you for vampsam and demcolby
content warning: kinda mean dom reader but very much sub SnC, Colby has a tail,,…, fem reader, near death experience (briefly mentioned), implied stripper!reader, BAD sex dialogue i think, if you’re more used to @samandcolby-ownme’s writing style for the boys, this one is very diff.
VERY MUCH UNEDITED
no smut, meaning no peen in vag but very sexual stuff under the cut. 18+ only!!
You were absolutely drained, both mentally and physically. Your whole body aches and you walk around the room as if you were anemic (which you could be at this point). As much as you loved your boyfriends, you’re high maintenance lovers, it’s taking a toll on you.
Other than the heavenly yet punishing sex they both give you, they keep forgetting to mention their other personal and unnatural needs as, well, not natural beings.
Consent and boundaries were set up before the three of yours’ relationships began. Their needs and your needs, as long as asked for permission, is given green light to the other. This applies for Sam’s request of sucking your blood which you don’t usually so no to and Colby’s demonic need of sucking the energy out of you by ‘absorbing your essence’ (you’re still not 100% sure how it works since he usually just closes his eyes as you stand there, feeling every bit of your serotonin slowly leaving your body).
Lately, for some reason, their needs doubled. Sam sucked your blood half to death if it weren’t for Colby snapping him out of his senses when you began losing color and consciousness. Colby was no better though. Unbeknownst to you, he’s been absorbing to much of your essence that it leaves you in such a worn out state.
You were angry and easily irritable, like a ticking time bomb. Just like right now.
As soon as you opened the door to your shared home, you were overwhelmed with the smell of their perfumes, telling you that they’ve been in the house the whole time while you were away, and the scent usually sends you into a calmer mood knowing your boys were here, but in your state right now?
“Sam? Colby! Sam!” You yelled from the living room, a striking headache already on its way as soon as the two appeared out of thin air.
“Baby, I’ve missed you.” Sam approached you with an arm reaching for you neck, rubbing the holes that showed his constant penetration on your poor skin. You could tell from the way he’s licking his lips, eyes not meeting yours, that Sam was going to ask for your blood. Again.
You scoffed, something you’ve never done towards them, swatted his hand away from. This caused for the blonde boy to flinch, red eyes flashing in the dim lighting. You could see Colby reacting to the unfamiliar reaction from your peripheral vision.
“Bad day at work?” He asked, arms crossed as he walked towards the both of you.
You ran a hand against your head, combing your already disheveled. “I don’t know, you tell me.” You didn’t know what came over to you, eyebrows arching in sarcasm. “Fucked up week would be a better way to describe it.”
Sam, unbeknownst to you, felt something crushing in his undead heart, like chains being harshly twisted and pulled at every bad energy you were sending out. Of course, you were unaware of that, continuing to do so. Colby, on the other hand, felt his eyes twitching, not from anger, but at his lack of breath as if he was being choked. His necklace hung low on his neck, there was nothing else that should be making him felt this way.
Despite all this, you began talking when they didn’t, oblivious to their pain. “I don’t know if you’ve been noticing but for whatever fucked up reason, the two of you have been taking too much from me.” Sam clenched the spot on his shirt where his heart would be residing, feeling it beat once again. He doesn’t remember it hurting like this.
Colby was fast on his feet to take your hands, releasing the grip of your unwelcoming crossed arms. “We didn’t know— We aren’t supposed to be here and we aren’t used to it.”
“As much as we hate it, it’s kind of— like, our way of having our powers work here.” Sam explained further, somehow compelled to telling you.
Their words didn’t seem to work to calm you down you rolled your eyes.
“Right, as if that’s any of my fault.” You replied, taking your hand back from Colby’s. His eyes widened at your action, feeling as though he’s made a grave mistake.
You’re disappointing her.
They both felt agonizing pain in their entire bodies at the same, especially on Colby’s neck and Sam’s chest. Colby held onto himself as he tried to catch his breath while Sam was clenching his fist to his chest.
“I mean, seriously, it’s been affecting me so much. I could barely do any of my choreographies without getting dizzy, I accidentally snapped at a costumer— not to mention, our highest paying.” You continued your tangent, eyes anywhere but on your boyfriends’ withering state. Your words struck them like lightning coursing through their body, making Sam the first to fall on his knees.
It was only when you heard a second thud when you turned back around. Your eyes widened at the sight of both Sam and Colby on their knees, their inhuman traits were out in the open.
“Sam? Colby? What the fuck is happening?” You knelt down to their level, trying to lift their heads up. Colby harshly grabbed your arm as soon you got closer, making you wince in pain as his sharp nails dug in your skin. Your reaction immediately made the boy struggle even further.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” The boy chanted to himself. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it, please.” Colby pleaded to you as if you were the one hurting him.
“Please, forgive us. We didn’t mean to anger you, make it stop.” Sam wheezed, his eyes having the brightest shade of red you’ve ever seen him have. The only time you’ve seen a glimpse of it was during sex.
Their words confused you as concern began washing over your anger. “Wait– guys–” Before you could even start talking to them, a voice in began to ring in the back of your head.
They deserve this.
The voice awfully sounded like you.
“You deserve this.” You said towards the both of them. Sam, despite his pain and being the rationale of your relationship, took notice of how your voice didn’t sound like you. It was you, you were speaking, but another voice, much darker and lower, was speaking for you.
The boys felt your fingers wrap around their chin, lifting them without much hardship. Colby’s watering eyes widened at your different eye color.
He wasn’t able to focus any further when he felt yet another sharp on his neck. “Focusing on useless things, you tend to do that, don’t you, Colby?” Instead of just the new voice, your real voice began overlapping with it. Somehow, it doubled the fear the boys were feeling for the first time again.
“As for you, Sam, you think you control this relationship, don’t you? Having made the first move on me, I can’t blame you if you did.” You chuckled. “Oh, how long I’ve been wanting to tell you this,” You inched closer to the boy, ghosting his sensitive sense of hearing on his now pointed ears. “You never were.”
You simultaneously let them both go and immediately grabbing a fistful of Sam’s hair. “You’re always one to talk. Better make that tongue to good use.” Without much warning, you placed two of your fingers inside him. “Suck.” You ordered.
Sam couldn’t do anything but comply, licking and sucking every inch of what you gave him. The pain in his heart was lessening by the second, making his actions more messy and desperate. Colby looked over at your lustful expression as you watched Sam, feeling his pants tightening at the sight.
“You never left me alone when I’m soaked,” Despite your distance from him, Colby heard your voice against his ear, making shivers run down his spine to his penis, pre cum staining his pants. He could feel your chuckles on his bare neck. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t be doing the same thing you.”
With half lidded eyes, Sam watched as you reached over to Colby, his demon tail immediately wrapping itself around you, as if guiding you to where you should be. You clicked your tongue, making both of them wince in pain at your displeasure. “Still trying to take control?”
You could hear Colby mumbling ‘no’s under his labored breathes along with Sam’s muffled ones, knowing what’s coming. You retracted your fingers from the blonde boy’s mouth and stood up.
“Look at me, Colby.” Your voice was gone again, voice void of any emotion but command. As soon as he did, he groaned in pain and pleasure as your feet lands on his hard on. The heels you were still wearing from the club stabbed on every part of him, his whines of pain slowly turning to a mix of his moans.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He gasped as pushed your heels even further, “Please, it hurts so much. It hurts,” Tears, which was something you’ve never seen come out of the both of them, began falling down on his scaled cheeks.
You remained unfazed, eyes glistening in excitement. Was it even you?
“Hurts more than getting choked?” You taunted and Colby immediately shakes his head. “If anything, you’re luckier than Sam. I like it when I’m being fucked and losing my breath.” Which both Sam and Colby knew all too well.
Speaking of, your eyes moved towards to Sam who was pathetically palm himself beside Colby. It almost made you wanted to laugh that this was the same man that stalked you, hunted you, and claimed you.
“God, you look good like this.” You smirked, grabbing his chin once again and pulling his head towards yours. Your lips move in a familiar rhythm, only this time you were taking the lead of exploring every inches of the boy’s mouth. Your tongue grazed his sharp canines, purposely piercing yourself to let blood run. Sam’s eyes widened, eyes glistening.
“You’re so spoiled.” You said as soon your lips parted ways with his, wiping the blood residue on your mouth and watched as Sam immediately started to lick it if off of your thumb.
“I’m gonna– fuck, fuck, I’m–“ Colby moaned as his hips grinds against your stilettos. He tried to chase his high but you removed your legs before he could, making him groan in pain. “No, no, please.” He cried, more tears spilling down from his darkened pupils.
You had to step back to look at the mess you’ve created. Sam was in his own high as the smallest amount of your blood intoxicated his entire being, leaving his pants severely damped while Colby couldn’t even move in inch from how painful you left him, something in him refusing to cum if it wasn’t against you.
You ran your fingers in your hair. “Ah, fuck— this definitely gave my energy back.”
Their eyes made contact with yours and they could see your natural eye color mixing with your new one. Colby, being a demon himself, knew what’s happening.
Because of your lack of blood, your own blood, and your humanly essence he’s been selfishly taking, a demonic spirit strong enough to conquer one and an ancient vampire made its way to your weakened self and made itself feel at home inside you.
That also meant this dynamic, these invisible chains you’ve placed on them, wouldn’t disappear any time soon.
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justanamesstuff · 11 months
Text
Fix me - Matty Healy x f!reader
Based on this request.
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A/N: Couldn't find a better pic, but I liked this one :)) Hope you enjoy!
Warnings: hospital environment, blood, stitches, swearing, fluff, flirting, trypos.
Word count: 2K
Blog MASTERLIST
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.” George didn’t hesitate to express his current thoughts.
Matty walked, staring at his side profile, meanwhile he spat, “Can you keep your mouth shut, you twat?”
They had been quiet during the driving from Matty’s house to the nearest hospital. George was moving forward along Matty’s side, holding a white cloth secured around his friend’s hand. The drummer tried not to show entirely how annoyed he was with the situation. He knew Matty didn’t mean to sliced his finger, while cooking dinner for them, but coming to the ER wasn't his ideal plan for a Friday evening. 
“It amazes me how smart and fuckin’ dumb you can be at the same time.” George continued, slightly scolding Matty.
“Oh, really?” Matty’s voice dripping with sarcasm. “Want me to tell you what I think about you knobhead, ha?” his finger was hurting like a bitch, and George giving him shit for his actions wasn’t helping. 
They suddenly stopped at the front desk of the hospital area, without acknowledging the person at the other side. George and Matty were face to face, while the taller one held the cloth tight. 
“Please, be my guess-” the drummer encouraged his friend to keep talking.
“All right…”
Although, someone cleared their throat. The guy’s stunned faces turned to look at the nurse. “How can I help you, gentlemen?” she accentuated the last word in an ironic tone, making the guys blush as they were behaving like proper children. 
“Sorry.” Gorge was the first one to stated, Matty followed him close behind.
She didn’t waste one more second, her sight fell on Matty’s hand. The cloth was no longer entirely white, the blood was coming through. “What happened?” Y/n inquired.
Matty stayed in silence, admiring her features. She was young and visibly hot. The singer found himself feeling incredible nervous around her. The young nurse was very front forward, he wasn’t really used to girls like her. There was something unique about her. It made him look insecure. 
George made him snapped out of his daydreaming, hitting the back of Matty’s head slightly. George’s mate turned to gift him a look. 
Matty returned his sight to the nurse, “I cut my finger.” he simply said.
“How deep?”
“Very, very deep.” George interfered. Something about his tone rubbed Matty off. 
“Thank you, George.” Matty groaned.
“Please, fill this.” she gave G a paper to put Matty’s information in. 
G completed it as fast as he could. On the other hand, Matty watched the nurse taping the computer keyboard. 
Her hair was up in a messy bun, her uniform accentuated her body, and she didn’t have makeup on. He liked the natural aura she exuded. 
“Done.” George broke the silence.
George let her take the form from him, walking with the paper far from the desk. She said, without turning around, “Thanks. Follow me, boys.” she took a good look at the information. 
******
The emergency room was small and very white, Matty thought, trying to focus on something else than his finger throbbing under the cloth.
The nurse instructed him to sit at the hospital bed, placing herself in front of him, almost between his legs. Matty felt the room got one degree hotter. 
“Let me see.” she asked, going to remove the fabric. “Oh, yeah…” Y/n exclaimed when her eyes found the wound. “Definitely, you’re going to need stitches.” she held his hand between hers. “Sorry, what’s your name?” Y/n inquired, looking up at his eyes, not letting his hand go. 
“I’m Matty.” he muttered.
George –interrupting the intimate moment– introduced himself, “And I’m George.” Y/n blushed, realizing Matty’s friend was in the room with them.
“Nice to meet you guys.” Y/n’s sight went from one to the other. “I’m going to call someone to fix your finger, alright?” she let Matty know. 
“Thank you, Y/n.” Matty said, watching her leave the room from the other door opposite to the one they came in. 
Y/n stopped with the door half open when her name came from Matty’s mouth. “How..?” she looked surprised. 
“Name tag.” Matty smirked at her.
“Right.” 
She left the room without saying anything more. 
Once she was out, George couldn’t help to laugh at Matty. His mate questioned him, “What?”
“Leave her alone.” G leaned backwards on the opposite wall, folding his arms. 
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Sure, mate.”
“Oh, come on! She’s fit…” 
“Matty…”
Matty’s mouth asked before he could stop the words from spilling out, “Ask her if she’s single.”
“I’m not going to do that, idiot.” George answered to his request, while he put his hood up.
“Please, I’ll pay you for it.” Matty begged.
“No.”
“Please.”
The small fight was interrupted by Y/n’s return, “Okay, everyone is busy. Big car crash.So, lucky you…I’m going to do it myself.” she informed Matty.
“Perfect, not complaints from me.” he winked his right eye. 
George rolled his eyes, “Excuse him, Y/n. Sometimes he behaves like a four-year-old.” he excused his friend.
Y/n chuckled, “Are you mates?” she tried to know, going to get all the things she needed to fix Matty’s finger. Y/n tried to not feel nervous, or even show how restless she really was. 
“Sadly, yes.” the drummer replied.
“And ‘m the child…” Matty protested, following Y/n’s form.
“Okay, time to work.” Y/n left the supplies at Matty’s side, proceeding to take his hand. “I’m going to clean the wound, yeah?” she checked with him. 
“Do your worst, Y/n.”
She started to clean the wound with so much care, paying attention to his little sounds and movements.
“What were you trying to do when you…?” Y/n interrogated Matty.
“When I chapped my finger?” Y/n laughed, going to throw away the used gauzes. 
“Yes.”
“Cooking dinner.”
“Oh, you know how to cook?” Y/n returned to his side. 
Matty felt proud of himself, “Yep, I can make something for you, if you want…” he suggested.
“Very kind from you.” Y/n tried to dodge his proposal. 
Next, Y/n took the needle and thread, going to star the real fixing. She tried to stabilize her shaking hand.
“If it hurts too much, let me know, and I’ll anaesthetise the area.” Y/n let him know everything she was going to do before every one of her actions. 
“Okay, Y/n.”
Her hand continued to shake, not matter how hard she tried. Y/n ignored it and went to pinch his finger with the needle. Before Matty could feel anything, Y/n moved slightly backwards. Matty frowned, looking at her hesitate.
“G, can you go and get me some snacks?” he asked without taking his eyes from Y/n.
“What?”
“Snacks, George. Now!” he urged him out of the room.
“Okay, okay.” G stomped out, leaving the pair alone.
“Hey,” Matty moved his good hand, reaching for her right hand. “What’s wrong?”
Y/n felt embarrassed to admit, “It’s my first time.”
“Fixing someone?” Matty drew circles on her skin, trying to distract her. 
“Stitching a real person.” Y/n shared with him.
“I’m taking your stitching virginity?” Matty regretted speaking when Y/n contracted his face. “Sorry, joking…”
“I know, I know…and yeah, you’re taking my-”
Matty interrupted her, “Please don’t complete the phrase. ‘m so stupid, sorry.” Matty hid his face behind his good hand.
“It’s alright. I’m going to-” Y/n encouraged herself to keep going.
“Come on, you can do it! I believe in you.” he cheered for her, which she found it charming.  
“Here I go.”
Y/n took a big breath, focusing again on his finger. 
When she pierced his skin with the needle, Matty hissed. “Hurts?” she inquired. It really did hurt, but Matty tried to be brave and macho with the pain. 
“A little.” he let Y/n know grudgingly. “I have a lot of tattoos, so I’m used to this.” It wasn’t anything similar to get a tattoo.
“That’s really cool, I always wanted to get one.” Y/n made conversation with him.
“You should.”
Even though the conversation was short. Y/n wasn’t stupid, and she knew the procedure was painful. 
Matty grew anxious with the silence, so he admitted, “Never thought I’d witness you getting nervous.”
Y/n looked up, taking a break Matty thanked in silence. She crooked her eyebrow, silently asking.
“Don’t know…I judged you by how you cut our shit out there.” 
Y/n chuckled. “Do you guys bicker that much?”
“Nah, George is pissed I forced him to take me here and waste the night.”
“That’s a shame. I can feel he’s a good mate.”
“He is, definitely.”
Y/n continued to work. Matty stared at her puckered forehead and the tip of her tongue coming slightingly between her lips. She looked fabulous, all focused on him.
“You’re doing amazing.” he tried to motivate her.
Y/n tried to mess with him, “Shut up, you know nothing about this.” but it came all wrong.
“You don’t know me, sweetheart. I’ve cut fingers, knees, and a lot of places of my body multiple times.”
“I’m sorry…was stupid to assume that.” she apologized.
“Y’know…you can get to know me.” Matty made his try to ask her out, more obvious this time.
“Oh, really?”
“If you want…”
“Did you flirt with every nurse that fixes your wounds?”
“Only with the pretty ones, and I’ve only encountered one…tonight.”
“Your girlfriend don’t mind?” Y/n stared at his eyes. 
“Sweet of you to assume I’m taken.” Matty smiled at her without breaking eye contact. “For your information, I’m single…had been for a long time now.”
“Mmm.”
“What? Don’t you believe me?” Y/n started to finish her work, feeling better with herself. 
“I have eyes, Matty…”
“Does your partner mind you flirting with patients?” It was his time to ask if she was taken or not.
“He doesn’t.” Matty’s stomach sank with her replied. He was really hoping she was single. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m single, if you so want to know.” Y/n rapidly said.
“That was rude.” Matty pouted. “I’m not sure any more if I want to ask you out now…” he teased her.
“Oh, really? Were you thinking about it?”
“Since I first saw you.” Y/n cheeks turning red was the best encouragement for him.
“Cute.” 
“Yeah, you.” he kept going.
Y/n cut the thread, wrapping his finger on a clean gauze, finishing with her work.
“Alright, charmer. All done.” she said, taking a step backwards.
Matty checked his finger, “You were nervous? This is the best work I’ve seen.”
“So full of shit you are.” she dared to say.
Matty snorted. “That’s not a nice way to talk with a patient.”
“Are you only a patient?” Matty watched her fold her arms in front of her. She was so cute in his eyes.
“I hope I’m not just another patient for you.”
Y/n analysed Matty, still seated at the hospital bed. 
“Give me your phone.”
The singer only managed to give her his phone, without muttering a single sound. She could be so extroverted and so introverted at the same time. The duality amazed him.  
Y/n saved her contact in his phone, and then said, “There. Gotta get back to work, Matty.” 
“I’ll call you, Y/n,” he said, moving the device in the air. 
“Okay.” she smiled at him, and start to leave the room. 
Matty shouted from behind her, “Wait for my call.” coming to his feet.
She turned around, “Sure.” Y/n didn’t sound so convinced. 
*************
Matty left the emergency room, founding G seated not so far away. 
“So?” the drummer inquired.
Matty, proud of his actions, exclaimed, “Got her phone number.” 
“Was asking about your finger!” George stood up. “Really?” he asked.
“Yeah, she’s amazing.” Matty started walking down the hall towards the exit.
“Can see that.” Matty’s friend poked him. 
Once in the car, George started talking about some random history while he waited. Matty didn’t listen to him. He opened his text, pressing to start a new conversation. 
Tell me if I'm wrong, but I can't call you during your shift, can I? x Matty
It took her a minute to answer.
No, you can’t. I have my break in 5 minutes though... x Y/n
Calling you in 10 then ;) x Matty 
Matty smiled looking out the window.
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malum-forev · 11 months
Note
Congrats on 1k followers 💓 I am so happy for you!
And can I please request the “stranded” prompt from your bingo game?
Just imagine Bucky and reader not really liking each other and being stranded somewhere after a mission. The tension, the intrigue, the fluff! Ugh I’m excited ❤️‍🔥
Much love, Meg (espinosaurusrexex) ✨
Hiii thank you thank youuu!! ❤️‍🔥 Here's the "stranded" prompt! I hope you like it <33
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*
Your legs felt heavy as you walked deeper into the forest. The “simple” mission Sam sent you on had taken you from morning to afternoon and now, into the night. You found yourself trying to ignore the ache enveloping your body as you dragged your exhausted body through the damp ground. Whoever said nature gives you peace and makes you feel grounded is an idiot. 
Stupid Sam, with his stupid mission, and his “You’ll be in and out in an hour, two tops.” You thought. 
On paper, it looked easy. You were supposed to go to a warehouse that was used as a training camp during the war somewhere in Vermont. There had been a couple of reports stating weird things were happening, there was talk of more super serum and information taken by Hydra being hidden there. But someone must have been tipped off because when you got there, everything was gone. Well, almost everything. Before you got to the warehouse, whoever was getting rid of the evidence clearly wanted to get rid of you too. Blinding gas tanks were detonated and they’d wired bombs to the landing strip, the quinjet completely destroyed. 
You always had a Plan B, of course. A safehouse some miles into the forest that bordered the area near Montreal. 
Your shoulders dropped as you saw caught sight of the small cabin. The sigh you let out was the first thing you’d heard in an hour, apart from the sound of two pairs of boots crunching down on the dropping leaves.
Bucky turned to look at you but you kept your gaze forward. You were in absolutely no mood to talk. It was his fault you were here but you knew he would never admit it. 
You walked up the old wooden stairs and stopped at the door.
“Are you waiting for the door to magically open?” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest.
Your hand covered your eyes. “You cannot be serious. Sam gave you the key for the safehouse in case we needed it.”
“Yeah, I know.” Bucky shrugged. “And I put it in my backpack.”
“And where’s your backpack?” You asked, annoyed. 
Bucky looked over both his shoulders and spun around once. “Does it fucking look like I have my backpack?”
“You lost the only thing you were supposed to keep track of?” You groaned. 
“Well I’m sorry, I was trying to not get killed by the fucking bombs!” Bucky rolled his eyes. 
You put your hand up, conveying a clear stop talking or I’ll kill you message, and knelt down. You took a couple of paper clips from the inside of your vest and straightened them to try and pick the lock. 
“Wouldn’t it be easier and more effective to carry a lockpick set?” Bucky asked. 
You stopped working on the lock to take a deep breath. We do not kill innocent people. You repeated in your head. Even if they’re not so innocent and they’re assholes.
You were able to get the door open after a few minutes. You took in your surroundings as you came in and turned on the lights. There was a landline phone at one end of the small cabin and a couple of medical aid kits, a couch on the other side of the four walls and a small table with two chairs next to it, but that was about it. You looked out the window and into the night, there wasn’t anything to be seen. Miles upon miles of trees, a good hour and a half away from any sort of civilization. You were truly stranded. 
“This place looks like shit.” Bucky said. 
Five words, that’s all it took to ignite the fire that had been lightly burning in your being. 
“Really? Because I think this place is incredibly charming.” You said, your words dripped sarcasm. “This was actually my idea of a perfect Friday night! Go on a mission, have you mess everything up by not checking if the place was decked out in bombs and having to walk almost two hours to a safehouse.”
“How is this my fault! You were the one who wanted to land the jet closer to the warehouse.” Bucky’s tone rose, his chest heaved. 
“Oh don’t you try and flip this situation around.” You warned. “Because the problem starts and ends with you being selfish! And because of your idiotic need for individualistic recognition and praise, we're stranded!”
Bucky was fully ready to let his wrath out on you but just as he was about to tell you why you were the problem, he saw a stain on your light grey vest. He furrowed his eyebrows at the large dark stain. 
“What happened to you?” He asked, getting closer and lightly tracing over the spot.
A painful shriek slipped out of you as you felt the pressure, Bucky stepped back. 
You grabbed one of the kits and dropped your body on one of the chairs. With a groan and a wince, you took your vest off and pulled your shirt up, tucking it under the wire of your bra. 
You teared the packaging for the antiseptic wipe and tried to clean the area. The large gash on the skin covering your ribs was still leaking blood. 
Bucky sat down on the chair next to you and pulled your chair closer to him, taking the wipe from your hands. “C’mon let me do it, I’ve got a better angle.”
You threw your head back and hissed as he pressed the wipe to your wound. 
“How’d you even get a cut like this?” Bucky asked, his usual frown softened a worried look taking its place.
You shrugged your shoulders. “What did you say earlier? I was trying to not get killed by the fucking bombs. Couldn’t really concentrate on anything else.”
The corner of Bucky’s mouth turned upwards slightly. 
You took sight of the man in front of you. The warm light cast intricate shadows on Bucky’s face. You could see his frown lines but you also took note of the small wrinkle on each side of his lips. Smile lines. You thought of the few times you’d seen him smile. You’d seen him give out his fake smile many times at press conferences or Stark events, but Buck’s true smile- the one you knew was hard to get out of him- you had only seen once or twice in passing. There was that one time when Sam finally broke him down with a cheesy joke, Bucky’s whole face would light up and an ear-to-ear smile would reveal his pearly whites. You had noticed your breath hitching when you saw him, not that you would ever admit it. 
A smile of your own threatened to appear as you saw how his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth, concentrated on treating your wound.
“Will you stop looking at me like that?” Bucky said in a soft voice. He took the needle out of the packaging, you needed at least three stitches. “It’s making me lose my focus.”
“Sorry.” You whispered.
“S’okay.” Bucky mumbled. 
You felt your mouth open without consulting with your brain. The question on the tip of your tongue. “Tell me a joke.” 
You don’t know what came over you but you asked it. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the lack of blood. You saw Bucky’s eyebrows furrow and his jaw tense. His expressive face went through all the emotions.
“A joke?” Maybe he hadn’t heard correctly, you definitely didn’t say that. How could the woman with whom he’d spent more time arguing than actually talking ask him to tell her a joke. 
“Tell me a joke.” You repeated, it was too late to back out now. 
“What’s a prize old people can win for aging?” Bucky asked, his eyes focused on finishing up your stitches but his brain was elsewhere. 
“What?” 
“Atrophy.” His celeste eyes looked up at yours and there it was, a smile. You knew you probably looked dumbfounded but there wasn’t any other expression you could make. Now you knew why Bucky didn’t smile as much, that man could start a war if he wanted to just by flashing a quick smile. 
You let out a light laugh. “That was a really bad joke.”
“I’m out of practice, I can’t remember the last time someone asked me for a joke.” Bucky bit his bottom lip. 
“You should smile more often.” Bucky’s eyes widened at your words. 
“I-I should?” He stuttered, quickly finishing the last stitch. Taking a bandage strip and placing it over his work. 
“You have a really nice smile.” You said and watched as his cheeks turned red. 
With a cough, he stood up from the chair. Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Thanks, it’s- been a long time since someone’s said that.”
“Am I the first person to tell you you have a nice smile in 70 years?” You asked. 
“Well- I – when you think about it-“ Bucky’s brain was frying, he had no idea what to do in this situation. He’d begged Sam not to put you two together in a mission for this exact reason. You were extremely irritating to him but at the same time he couldn’t help but want you. Want to be near you. You had the ability to make him angry in a matter of seconds but make his pants feel tight with just a couple of words. The devious smile playing on your lips only made him harder. 
“I’m gonna call Sam to see when he can pick us up.” Bucky gulped. 
Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33
*Any gifs posted are not my own and I give the artist full credit.
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kefiteria · 2 months
Text
Serenity in My Eyes.
Character: scaramouche/wanderer x reader
Tags: fluff, one shot!
Synopsis: just taking a leisurely strolls with scara at cherry blossom park, adorable and short!
🍨 A/N: i got inspiration to wrote fanfic from this song while walking outside earlier today~ He's more of a Wanderer here but I decided to use 'Scaramouche' because it's more natural for me to write it that way~
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“Oh, so you're finally here… took you long enough.” Scaramouche remarked, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes in mock excitement as he spotted you. Despite his sarcastic tone, there was a hint of genuine pleasure at seeing you. The promise to hang out had been made, and spring was the perfect time to catch up, with the cherry blossom in full bloom.
“Hi there!” you greet cheerfully, noticing the crowd gathering around. “Looks like there are more people here than expected. I thought an early morning stroll would mean fewer crowds.”
You shrug your shoulders, but Scaramouche continues walking without waiting for your rambling. “Well, excuse me for trying to lighten the mood.” you mutter under your breath, a hint of annoyance creeping into your tone.
He glances back at you with a raised eyebrow, “Tone it down, will you? It's far too early for that level of energy.” His words are laced with sarcasm, but you detect a hint of amusement in his expression.
As the two of you strolled, Scaramouche couldn't help but comment on the cherry blossom picnics that mortals enjoyed during this season. “Ah, the cherry blossoms,” he mused, “a perfect backdrop for mortals to frolic and gossip.” He glanced around, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “But you know how I feel about crowds.” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Fortunately, a single glare from me and they scatter like leaves in the wind, much to my endless amusement.”
You chuckle softly and remark, “Is it just me, or are you actually enjoying their reactions? Perhaps this stroll with me isn't as tedious as you make it out to be.”
His response comes with a snarky scoff, “Oh, please. Don't get delusional now. Enjoying your company doesn't mean I'm suddenly softening up. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here.” Despite his dismissive tone, there's a subtle twinkle in his eye, hinting at a begrudging acknowledgment of the enjoyment in your presence.
The scattering cherry blossom petals and blooming bushes painted a picturesque scene, but to Scaramouche, it felt like a mundane and random activity. He couldn't comprehend why you chose this as a way to hang out with him.
In his eyes, your simple act of taking a leisurely stroll seemed unfathomable. The way you breathed in the crisp spring air, the gentle warmth of the sunlight caressing your skin, and the delicate petals swirling around you as if in a final dance—all of it left him perplexed. Why did the sun's rays warm his heart? Why did the spring breeze leave him breathless? And why did the falling petals, following your every step, create an impressionist painting-like aura around you?
Despite his analytical mind trying to rationalize it all, there was an undeniable beauty at the moment, a surreal quality that made him question his perceptions of the world around him.
Scaramouche muttered softly to himself as he approached you, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. “You… make me confused.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why do the petals have to fall around you? Why does the sunlight seem to spotlight only you? Why… tell me why, do you make me feel this longing…"
Suddenly, he snapped out of his reverie, his annoyance evident as he scoffed at his thoughts. “Forget it,” he dismissed, shaking his head.
Concerned by his sudden change in demeanor, you offered to move to a quieter spot with fewer people. “Are you okay?” you asked, noticing his preoccupied state.
“Don't bother-” he retorted, but before he could finish his sentence, you handed him a camera, cutting off his words. “Alright, Mr. Snarky Man, how about less scoffing and more pictures!” you exclaimed, striking a pose with a playful laugh.
Caught off guard by your spontaneity, Scaramouche couldn't help but be intrigued. With a reluctant smirk, he raised the camera, silently conceding to your request. Despite his initial resistance, there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he captured the moments with you.
“Ugh, how many pictures am I supposed to take? Hurry, I'm here to indulge in this 'hangout', not become your personal photographer.” Scaramouche grumbled, though his hands continued to snap away, capturing every angle and scenery of the cherry blossom park as you requested.
With a playful grin, you insisted on one last shot—a close-up of you with the beautiful background. Chuckling at his resigned expression, you knew he was trying his best, despite his protests.
As he groaned and reluctantly set the camera's focus on you, you couldn't help but smile at his begrudging cooperation. “Fine, listen to my count,” he instructed, his tone stern yet tinged with amusement. “This is the last one. If it turns out ugly or anything, it's your fault, not mine. Don't whine later.”
You nodded eagerly, ready to strike your pose. “Yeah, I won't complain! Okay, okay, I'm ready!” you declared, beaming brightly at the camera lens as Scaramouche prepared to capture the final shot. Yet a few seconds passed, he didn't click the button.
“Huh? You haven't clicked it, silly!” you exclaimed, holding back your laughter as you maintained your pose.
“I love you.” Scaramouche confessed softly, finally clicking the camera.
And with that heartfelt declaration, the moment was captured, forever frozen in time.
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