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prael · 9 days

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A Bargain To Remember

Kinktember Day 13: Car sex

(G)I-DLE Miyeon x male reader smut

words: 4,950 Kinktember Masterlist

"Finally, a face to the name."

You know all about Miyeon, of course. She's the type of girl whose face is plastered on every screen and every street in every corner of the galaxy, a darling of the interplanetary conglomerates. From the spaceports to even the most downtrodden of back-alleys, you can probably find her face on some poster or flyer or some massive digital billboard high above you—those corporate powers that be sure want to squeeze as much out of her as possible.

The surprise is that she knows you.

Of course, it's on those screens, or the ones at home, or the ones in their pockets, that most people become acquainted with a girl like Miyeon. Those glossy eyes, her effervescent smile, her delicate but fierce features, of course, they leave an impression. They sell you dreams, products and promises. That's why you can find her all over the place—but the versions of her you can interact with— ones to purchase and enjoy—are another beast altogether.

"Can I help you, miss?" you feign ignorance of her identity as she takes the chair at the other end of your desk.

"I would like to make a purchase."

"A purchase? From me? What could I possibly offer to someone like you? I sell scrap electronics to junkies and fix the broken implants of low-life thugs. How could that possibly interest you?"

She crosses her legs, and says, "Don't play with me. I have seen your work, quite the artist you are, though I wouldn't say you exactly have my mannerisms down. The curve of my mouth, the cadence of my voice—not exactly up to par with the real deal. But as fakes go, you do well with what you have."

You scratch at the back of your head and then catch a bead of sweat forming at your temple, "Think you have the wrong guy, miss. You're talking AI and Virts here. Not my thing, definitely not my forte."

She's quiet as you look around at anything but her face. The grey concrete walls and steel beam of the roof are awfully fascinating suddenly, and then the holos playing on loop above the screens of your makeshift booth—really anything than to have to admit that your life's work consists of making and selling forgeries of people like her. She knows why she's here—the least you could do is be brave and admit to your craft.

"I tried your work myself. Quite the experience. Can't say I ever planned on fucking myself—but well, there's a first time for everything I guess."

There's enough power across your desk to not only shut you down and make it so the only tech you would ever touch again is a pair of electrified cuffs at best, and at worst she could have you put down and silently disposed.

Miyeon continues, "As I say, it wasn't entirely accurate, I'm not actually that loud or aggressive, for the record. But it was fun, so if you're thinking I'm about to expose you, not the case—I'm actually here to invest in your skill. Your art is fun, and I dare say your tastes in women, are spot on."

You let out a small nervous laugh and then say, "I don't usually take requests."

Her pink-painted lips, the gloss shimmering slightly from the bright fluorescent overhead light, form into a delicate, mischievous grin. "I'm willing to make you an offer, one you won't refuse. You get me what I want, and I'll license your work. Think about it. An official Miyeon VirtueX™, think of how lucrative an asset that could be. The whole galaxy's lining up to get a taste—and you would be the only real supply."

You lean forward in your chair to peer at her and ask, "Let's say I was who you think I am, what is it that you want from me?"

"What I want from you," she pauses and tilts her head, her eyes glance across your features briefly and her tongue traces the edges of her teeth. "Is to show me the past." She places a drive on the desk—old-tech, the kind that would never run on any kind of systems that are sold today. "You can get this working, right?"

"Is that a government stamp?" You point to the symbol on the drive. "I plug that in and I'll have execution squads here in under a minute."

"It's all above board. Officially disposed and untracked. I just need to live it, once." Her voice is quiet and pensive.

"Alright. Deal. But those two lumps of metal you call bodyguards have to stay out there, and you're coming through to my studio. If I'm gonna help, you have to play by my rules."

She flashes you a winning smile. You thought you had her pegged down but all this has proved you wrong—there was more to Miyeon than the flashy clothes and the blinding lights, a lot more. And your curiosity is getting the better of you now.

"You know, you're only the third person to ever step in here," you open up the secret passage into the back room, and gesture for Miyeon to step in.

You close the door behind you both and feel the heavy metal slide lock with a hiss.

"The first was me, naturally, and the second left it in a body bag a few years ago."

She doesn't flinch, just brushes past you and sits on the edge of your desk, running a finger along the steel as if surveying the conditions of your equipment. "Hard to imagine you make the stuff you do from a place like this," she says.

"The drive," you say as you hold out a hand.

She passes it over and you examine the shape and material. Most drives these days are designed to interface with neural implant ports or organic docks directly—this is true vintage work. It might have been what some would have called groundbreaking tech a hundred or so years ago. You hook the little device up to your primary work machine and start running tests.

She slides off the table, her hands resting on your shoulders. She bends down, her body pressed into yours as she murmurs near your ear. "How is it?"

"A mess. But a fixable mess. Should have something you can use soon enough."

Miyeon breathes gently in your ear before placing a hand on your arm, "Please, whatever you do, do not look at the contents. It's personal, just let me view it, and live it, one last time. Then you can lock it away again for all eternity and erase the copy from your server. And then you get exactly what you want from me."

You breathe in deeply, a mixture of her perfume and the thick oily scent of hot electronics flooding your brain. "Whatever, it's none of my business anyway. Now take a seat will you." You nod to the chair on the other side of the room.

The drive whirrs softly and a data scan runs to gather all the fragmented encryptions left behind on the device. Miyeon lies flat back on your chair and waits for you to connect her—she holds out her forearm expectantly.

"Come on then," she smiles sweetly and pulls a loose curl behind her ear.

You clamp your eyes tight and inhale. "Here goes nothing." You run the system at the push of a button and all the data you scraped compiles in a memory, one for Miyeon and Miyeon alone to relive. You walk over, drawing the connection from the chair and readying to insert it into her arm. "Connections like these, they can hurt, okay? Are you ready?"

"Do it." She's insistent.

A quick stab of your fingers later and the tiny prongs slide into the barely visible organic slot on her skin. Her head tosses violently and for the first time, there's fear on her face. But as soon as you have her connected, her eyelids begin to flutter. You sit a while, watching her as a million synapses all spark to life behind rolling eyes—whatever the moment is, she is in it. You leave her in peace and sit back at your workstation, waiting.

There's an artificial sensation of the atmosphere becoming slightly humid all around, the lights are a soft pastel blue, and the world is swathed in cotton wool. Silent. You find yourself completely frozen in time. It drags and yet somehow comes to a finish just as you're still adjusting to the quietude.

Miyeon's connection beeps and you turn around, removing the port from your system. She pulls the connection from her arm.

"So, tell me, was it worth the trip down memory lane? You get everything you wanted?" You unplug the old-school hardware and await the confirmation that all the corrupted data's safely expunged from your hard drives.

"Almost everything. But most things, in the end, never get a happy ending, do they?"

"Sounds heavy. The stuff that happened on there, pretty rough, huh."

Her pupils are dilated, the whites of her eyes flooded red. "Like you wouldn't believe." Miyeon climbs from the chair, finding her feet back in the real world after living in another for a precious few minutes. She blinks twice and there's a distinct film over her corneas.

"So that's it? My end of the bargain was fulfilled. And I get my licensed content?"

Miyeon turns and you wonder if that's a tear that's been cast down her cheek. "Sealed and guaranteed. Now let's give you some real data to work with. The right anatomical model, an authentic Miyeon behavioural pattern, every single unique vocal calibration, every erogenous spot, every subtle expression in real-time—have it all. One more condition. I have another memory, a real one in my head, if you make me relive that, you can record it and scrub every detail you need. Are we agreed?"

You nod. "Done. Sit there and we'll connect."

"You're going to manually record?"

"How do you think I get it all so accurate?" you tell her with a smug smile.

She sits and gives a nod. "If it's got to be done." You take a seat behind her, and you both reach over your shoulder to pull the neural connector into your napes and slot them in.

A brief flash of many realities as you slip into her consciousness and she welcomes you to her memory.

A calm setting, sitting in a car, you were driving and she's in the passenger seat. You're parked beside a winding hillside road and looking out over a city. A city you don't recognise. Miyeon's fingers dancing across your thigh with a suggestive gentleness, a sly smile.

"Where are we?" you ask.

"Seoul." Miyeon smiles.

"When are we?"

"2024."

"2024? That's over seventy years ago!"

She laughs. "Yeah? You wanted the real authentic Miyeon, didn't you?"

"Sure, but in 2024? That's just unbelievable. You look the same. How are you so—"

She leans close and traces a finger across the line of your jaw. She stares directly into your eyes and says, "We'll worry about the details later. Right now, you want what I've promised, and you've come this far, so you know what has to be done. We're already where we need to be."

Your senses are engulfed in an emotion and memories that are not your own. All a simulation and all a vivid and overwhelming experience. You're in love with her, that's the overriding feeling—the feeling of whoever she was really with at this time.

"This is the memory of the best sex of my life." She leans close to whisper to you. "So do try your best."

"This is just..." You don't get to finish, she's grabbed your shirt and pulled you close. She kisses you deeply. There is nothing of the daintiness or composure that you're used to, you've lost all your will and she is dragging you out of control. You find yourself consumed with an overwhelming and perplexing ecstasy and the idea of restraint or of reason seems unimportant now. You're driven purely by passion and by instinct—she has to have you and you have to have her, it's almost a compulsion. She's yanking off her seatbelt and reaching for your trousers, clawing at them desperately.

And just like that, you're scrambling at each other's clothes, almost frantic. You have the sensation of her breath across your face, the heat of her lips against your skin. Hands, everywhere. Exploring the curves of her body. A hungry desperation to peel back every layer of fabric to feel more, and more of her. She bites your bottom lip and looks at you with pleading eyes.

"I want you and I want you now." Her lips move like liquid lust and her hand like electricity, the energy tingles when she wraps her fingers around your cock and pulls it free from your pants.

She gasps and then giggles as if pleasantly surprised, a cute and kittenish squeal, she hums with her own approval of her actions.

"I'll be gentle," she whispers, her eyes shining with mischief. She rubs you from tip to base, taking the full length, slowly and teasingly over and again until the blood's pumping and you're at full salute. She's on her knees in the passenger seat and leaning over you. A smirk on her lips, she goes lower and lower still, her tongue warm and wet. Taking your crown into her mouth and enveloping you, her pace slow but sure.

Your hand in her hair, not to control or pressure, just to feel her in the moment. Encourage her, caress the back of her neck and appreciate every moment of pleasure. She takes you deep, deeper into her throat, the heat of her lungs, the power in her movements as she comes off and plunges again and again. It's effortless and instinct, and not for anything other than her own desire to please, and that itself is thrilling, you have to admit.

It's a strange new world for you to have sex without the enhancements of technology. It's so raw.

You sigh and whimper at every suckling pull, your nerve endings raw and singing. Her palms firmly pressing down onto the tops of your thighs, her movements grow slower, more sensual but she sucks harder, the vibrations from the moans of her enjoyment humming through the root of your shaft—fuck, it feels so fucking good, too good. She releases you with a slight gasp for air and a drooling line of spit.

She wipes her lips with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Outside, now." Miyeon doesn't hesitate. Her shirt pulled off and tossed into your face and she's leapt over to the rear passenger door, flinging it open wide, the warm night air rushes in to greet you, along with the sound of crickets. She slams the door shut and you open yours.

You climb out and head to meet her at the front of the car, she's already leaning against the metal hood. The car is one of those muscle cars from back at the time, a real classic ride that suits a woman like her. "Hey you," she rubs her hands against the metal as she leans forward and sprawls herself over it. "Get behind me already," her tongue dancing across her red-stained lips, her chest heaving in excitement, you're as hot and as hard as you'll ever be.

Miyeon tilts her head, watching you closely with half-opened eyes, her pretty pink tongue sticks out between her perfect teeth, and a teasing wink follows. She wiggles her hips, an inviting gesture, her skirt raised to reveal the gentle wobble of her cheeks—she doesn't have underwear, what a perfect minx she is—all bare for you.

She runs a hand down over the hem of her skirt and then raises it fully up over the top of her ass. As glorious as the very stars overhead. You have an overwhelming urge to run your hands across her bare flesh and as you take the first steps towards her, you find your arms reaching and touching and tracing every inch of skin that's exposed.

You run your hands over her cheeks, spreading them, kneading them, Miyeon's letting out soft little noises, encouraging you, inciting you—but fuck, this view... it's exquisite. It's so clear now, that all those fakes, the painstaking hours of recreation, simply did not live up to the real deal, and not just the view, everything is magnitudes superior.

You smooth your palm between her thighs and you part them, pulling her ass to the edge, sliding her legs open, watching as her wetness shines. "Just how badly do you want me?" you ask her.

"Look at me, how can you say something like that? Of course, I fucking want you. I hate having to wait. Come and fuck me."

You guide your cock to sit between her cheeks and rock into it gently, enjoying how those perky cheeks cradle your length and the way her whole body rocks with every movement. "Is it wrong that I love watching you squirm?" you ask, running the palm of your hand over the bare skin, digging your fingers in, grasping a handful and appreciating how it yields under your fingertips.

"Only wrong if I mind, and I don't," Miyeon groans, lifting her hips against you and smothering your dick in her deliciously juicy flesh. She is irresistible. "So what are you waiting for," her voice soft and suggestive. "Go on, you know you want to. You know how much I need it."

You grit your teeth and trace her lips with the tip of your cock, and it's like lightning flashing between you both. Fuck. Her lips are so wet and hot—they're so tantalisingly puffy. She wiggles and gyrates against you as you rest inside her opening. She groans and you're shuddering.

You slide the first few inches and gasp. You both moan softly together as you glide in, she's so much tighter than you had imagined she might feel—every inch that slides inside makes her clench you more.

"Yes," Miyeon is urgent and breathy, her muscles are contracting as though attempting to swallow your entire length. And she's hungry for it. "That's it baby, nice and deep," her words as electrifying as the sensation of her snug walls quivering as she clings on with greed.

"Like this?" you whisper in her ear as you lean over and pin her petite frame against the metal, letting her feel you, all of you. Every inch. And as she moans and shivers under the weight of your body. Your hands reach her shoulders and your fingertips find her neck, circling and caressing and massaging in all the right places—she turns her head as far round as she's able to gaze at you as she hums and gasps with each rolling movement of your hips.

Her teeth biting her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed pink, a complete dream in motion. Her body arches as she urges and wills herself back on you. You groan in return. Everything about her feels unreal in its perfection. She's squeezing against your cock, and her most hidden recesses begin to melt for you.

Miyeon cums like this, and it's without warning. She tenses, her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open—her silky tunnel clamps tight as a vice grip. And the way she gushes all over you, covering you, she can barely breathe, she can barely let out a cry or a single noise, only ragged breathing as you hold her firmly in place and fuck her through it.

You fuck her without shame or inhibition. She whimpers, a feeble cry, every thrust powerful and deliberate. Miyeon moans what feels like your name and you give another forceful snap of your hips, both hands firmly on her slim and shaking waist. There are no words that can possibly encapsulate her.

"That's it," her breath erratic and shaky. She grinds her ass into you with every forward push, working into a perfect rhythm and going balls-deep with each pump. "Hard." You slam against her ass, the clapping sound of skin against skin—it fills the warm and humid air.

Miyeon cums again. So fucking easy to make her cum. Her beautiful brown eyes are desperate with desire. She shakes, she is panting, "Just like that, keep doing exactly that and I'll lose my damn mind. God, you feel so fucking big."

She's limp now, just taking rough, powerful and blissful strokes—her cries a series of hoarse grunts and weak moans.

You grab her by the waist, hard, she lets out a yelp, and then you're manhandling her, throwing her delicate figure over onto her back. There they are, those perfect little tits, grown red being forced against the metal of the car. Her soppy mess drips out from her thoroughly fucked hole.

"This, is all you wanted right?" You gather her legs and thrust them roughly up and over your shoulders, sliding easily back inside. Her pussy gushing and absolutely soaking. "A good rough fucking. You just love to be used don't you, baby. This is the side of you I've been missing, seeing how you have always been so prim and proper in front of everyone."

"That was your problem, all those homemade VirtueXs made me all commanding when I really just love to be taken." Her breaths are ragged.

"Maybe that's just how I'll be selling you in future then," you say.

She gives a throaty chuckle. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but for now," Miyeon takes a tight hold of her knees, and draws them against her chest. "Make me cum again, please."

You have her absolutely filled with every inch of cock and stretched tight with every savage drive of your hips, again, and again, and again. Sweat forms a light film over every curve and groove of her form. She's gorgeous, she's taking it, and she's loving it. "Let me feel you cum," she breathes between pumps and thrusts, her fingers kneading the flesh of her thighs as she spreads herself as open as is physically possible.

A combination of pressure and adrenaline, you're hammering deep. Miyeon is groaning and pleading. A loud moan, a series of short sharp exhales and whimpers. Those narrow hips are trembling, her slim thighs shake, toes are curled. Her orgasm and invitation for you to join her come as a surge.

You explode. Locked, sheathed so deep and full, you fill her. "Cum so much..." Miyeon sighs in awe. Your climax is euphoria.

Both a sweating, quaking mass of interlocked limbs, you pull away and your drenched cock slips out. "How are you real," you exhale. "Never felt anything like you."

"I am one of a kind." Miyeon laughs gently to herself. "Now let's get back in there and you can fuck me some more."

You're in the backseat now, Miyeon's slender body climbing all over you. She leans in and takes your lips, her sticky lip gloss and the sweet taste of her mouth as she invades with her tongue and leads yours into a frenzy. Her fingertips drag down across your chest. She's positioning herself over your cock.

The beauty of simulation is there's no recovery, only the chasing of the next orgasm, and she's keen to provide the means. She takes you with her eyes closed, a small, grateful moan and she slides herself slowly up and down. Your head arches back with a cry as she holds onto your shoulders and glides her lips down over your shaft.

"Gonna ride you," she whispers as she rocks herself in time with the rise and fall of your breaths. "Ride you until you explode again." Your fingertips squeeze into the supple curves and muscles of her torso.

It is a euphoric ecstasy. Miyeon looks perfect riding a dick. She sinks down low, grinding back and forth. She moves like waves, her hair stuck against her cheek. You take hold and move the strands out of the way, before trailing down the bare skin of her neck and to her tits, groping them firmly.

"Been so long since I last got to do this. Missed how big you are." She grasps the headrest as the speed and intensity of her motions increase. "Yeah, that's it, baby."

Her eyes flutter and her head starts to fall further and further back. Erratic, out of control, wild—she starts slamming her ass down hard. Fucked-slack and oozing, her juices dripping down. She's growing quiet and you watch her expression transform, her eyes turn glassy. You watch her face strain in her pleasure, it's a wonderful sight—pure bliss. Then she erupts into moans as her body convulses and spasms, and all you can do is hold her steady, her hole throbbing tight around you. She gasps, desperate for oxygen, every fibre and nerve singing in harmony.

From one, right into chasing the next, Miyeon lifts herself, turns, presents her ass to you and sits back on your cock. You watch it slip up between her cheeks and disappear inside her cunt once more, she hums a content sigh and leans forward. Miyeon braces herself against the window of the car, looking over her shoulder as she moves.

Her groin rocks and grinds on your shaft in a rolling motion and it's heaven itself. That cute, perky ass smacks on your groin in a sensual motion. Her hand snakes between her legs. Her moans grow in strength and volume. Wet, slippery, soft, Miyeon's fucking you and riding herself to her own orgasm. She starts to tremble. You start to tremble. She's squirming wildly, desperate for her climax, that gorgeous cunt squeezing every inch and driving you crazy.

And you lose it. Another intense explosion that makes you clasp onto her ass and hold it steady. A groan rips through your entire body, and you empty everything you have. She cums the instant she feels the heat spread through her. A unified orgasm. Pure heavenly relief. The energy seems to drift into the air and the car rattles beneath you both. It is incredible. The euphoria is otherworldly.

"Tell me that was good," she asks softly.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Again. Again. Please, one more time?"

"It's your head, sweetie. Have at it."

"Hmm, I suppose it is. Then I want to sit on you, and I want it in my ass." Miyeon giggles and slips herself off you, a mixture of your cum and hers falling down her thighs.

"Whatever the fuck you want," you groan, delirious as Miyeon pulls you up to the seat and then takes her place on your lap, she spread her legs out over yours and you take her hips, guiding her ass onto your cum-soaked cock. Everything is a fucking blur but the sensations are turned up to eleven, and there is nothing else that is comparable.

You plant kisses on her hot, sweaty back as you slide her down onto your length. She's twitching, and squirming. You hear her let out a soft gasp of delight at the invasion. The tightness, the constricting squeeze is just...

"Oh yes..." Miyeon breathes softly. "Let me... let me do the work now, let me fuck this big hard dick with my tight ass." She circles her hips, drawing on your cock with a slow, tight, merciless motion. Your world starts spinning all over again. She's slick with sweat, her cheeks grinding on your thighs, the scent and the sex drives you fucking wild. "What a perfect dick. I could do this all day."

You lean your head forward, and sink your teeth into the muscle of her shoulder—a flurry of loud moans from Miyeon as she bounces on your shaft. The sloppy sounds, the music of her pleasures, the clapping slap, it's insane and exhilarating. You lick her sweat from her flesh, tasting her.

She's slick and stretched, clamping around your cock as her pace quickens and turns ragged and urgent. It's a whole other level, it's unparalleled and all-consuming. You're just about ready to blow inside her ass.

"Hold onto me," She pants, grasping your left wrist and bringing it over to her mouth, placing your fingertips upon her tongue and sucking. It is lewd and erotic and exciting and your insides begin to churn and ache.

There's no stopping you now, you erupt again, gripping her waist as your hips buck up on instinct, jamming yourself deep and blowing. Miyeon moans around your fingertips—taking your load while still rubbing her swollen little clit.

"Yes, I love it when I make you cum like that," she murmurs, sliding herself slowly off your half-mast cock and crawling off your lap. She throws herself down on the seat in a heap, peering down at the thick mess of cum dripping out of her freshly fucked orifices, a dazed smile, satiated.

You blink and try to get her into focus but it's to no use—she blurs and vanishes before your eyes. And soon, you're back. Your workshop, in your chair, and still hooked into Miyeon. Still sitting back-to-back, your foreheads damp, breathing hard and ragged. The lights flickering a bright electric blue.

"Incredible," you breathe.

Miyeon sighs. "Yeah..." She detaches the link from behind her ear. Miyeon climbs to her feet, shakily making her way around your workspace. "I'm such a mess," She says, touching under her dress.

"Fuck, yeah me too," you sit there trying to process what just happened.

"I want a copy. The whole thing." Miyeon places a card down on the desk.

"I'll get started."

#kinktember #kpop smut #Miyeon smut #gidle smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #Miyeon x reader #Electric play #Electrophilia #Cho Miyeon smut #(g)i dle smut

1K notes · View notes

rebelwrites · 9 months

Note

IM HERE FOR THE FLASH FIC!!

I’ve been craving some Jax Teller. I need something tender and sweet, but in character. Something to make me feel safe and wanted, but not simply desired. Idc what you write or how you do it because I know it’s going to be 👌

You Aren’t Meant To Be Back Until Christmas Eve

Jax Teller x Reader

This is a flash fic so it hasn’t been edited. It’s also good to be back writing again 🥺

It was the week leading up to Christmas and to say you were rushed off your feet was a complete understatement. This was your favorite time of year, even though your stress levels were through the roof, you practically lived off coffee and energy drinks and hardly saw your boyfriend Jax. You knew he understood why you were so absent in the run up to the festive season, the small bakery had queues running down the street from mid October.

Leaning against the stainless steel counter, you took a deep breath looking at the stack of cookie trays that were cooling waiting to be iced ready for the morning rush. Your body ached to where all you wanted to do was sink into a scalding hot bath, not moving until the hot water eased your aching muscles.

The sound of your phone echoing around the industrial supplied kitchen pulled you from any thoughts, you knew it would be Jax, it always was this time of night. No matter what time you were working he would always drop you a call to see how you were getting on, even when he was on runs with the club he would always make a point of calling you. Brushing the flour on the front of your jeans you grabbed your phone, quickly answering the call before pressing the device against your ear.

“Is it a late one again Darlin’?” Your boyfriend hummed, you could hear the tiredness hanging from his words, this last run for the club must have taken more of a toll on him this time.

“I think I’m still gonna be here come opening,” you sighed, letting your gaze fall to the countertop. “Don’t get me wrong I love Christmas and the bakery but I just want to spend time with you.”

“The money is nice as well,” he chuckled, causing the corners of your lips to tug into a small smile. You knew how much the bakery meant to not only Jax but the club too. This was one of the first legitimate businesses that was set up, Jax surprised you one day by showing the vacant lot and the new sign he had designed, from that day the “From Anarchy, With Love” bakery was born.

“How was the run?” You asked, pulling the phone away from you ear, putting in on speaker so you could be free to move around the kitchen.

“Long as fuck,” he groaned, you knew he would be running he hand across his face as he spoke. “I am so fuckin’ done with the muling, it is just getting more risky with each run,” he mumbled, with each word he spoke you could hear the pain in his voice.

Before he could carry on the sound of someone pounding at the front door gained my full attention. “Hold on baby, I swear someone is trying to put their fist through the front door of the bakery,” you huffed in annoyance. It was probably one customer trying their luck to see if they could get their order early. But that didn’t stop you from reaching into the cupboard by the doorway of the kitchen, grabbing my hand gun, flicking the safety off before tucking it into the bank of my jeans. One thing was for sure when it came to being Teller’s old lady, you was never without protection, whether this was in the form of a 9mm, a member of the club or Jax.

As you moved through the building, the knocking got louder and more persistent. “Bloody hell, don’t punch my door in, it never hurt you,” you scoffed, fishing the keys out of the pocket of Jax’s hoodie.

You felt myself fumbling with all the locks, once again thanks to Jax being over protective, soon enough the door was finally unlocked and the moment you pulled the heavy wooden door you dropped the set of keys on the floor as you saw your boyfriend leaving against the brick entrance.

“Hey Darlin’,” he hummed, quickly closing the gap between the two of you, engulfing you into his arms. The feeling of his muscular arms wrapping around your body caused all the stress to dissolve. “Fuck, I missed you,” he whispered against your hair, guiding you further into the shop before kicking the door closed with his foot.

“You aren’t meant to be back until Christmas eve,” you breathed, pulling back slightly so you could take in the look of your tired man. Somehow you freed one of your arms, allowing you to reach up brushing your fingers against his cheek. “Not that I am complaining nevertheless, what happened Jaxy?”

The fact you were greeted with a moment of silence told you everything, you knew things were rocky with Clay, no one knew the toll that everything was taking on the blond nuzzling his face into your shoulder. He wouldn’t let the outside world see him like this, but with you he felt he could let the walls come crumbling down, allowing him to process all the emotions he was feeling, and he knew his feelings would be taken seriously.

“Clay is going off on one again, his hands are getting worse and he has gone behind all of our back and the club is now in a deep hole with the cartel,” he had a wobble in his tone as he spoke, he was angry about the whole situation and I couldn’t blame him, I would be to. “I just needed my girl.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, to the world he was the vice president of a violent club but behind closed doors he was just a puppy wanting love.

“I know you need to work so I can’t take you to the Christmas market I know you want to go to but I have brought take out,” he hummed, holding up the plastic carrier bag you had completely missed when he first came into the bakery, “and I thought we could spend the night icing them amazing cookie, like we did when we were getting this place ready for the opening.”

Tears threatened to spill over your lash line, you had never been with someone who would abandon everything just because they wanted to spend time with you, even if that meant that they would be working till the sun came up.

“You know I want the cookies to be edible and sellable right?” You smirked, cocking your brow at him.

“Shut up and get your ass in that kitchen, Darlin’”

@chibsytelford @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @withmyteeth @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @princess76179 @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @princess76179 @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @lmao-liz @babypink224221 @daddysgirl2857 @bravo-four-seal-team @garbinge @pedrohoe04 @littlekittymeow @nichia88-blog @zozebo

#sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine

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s0fter-sin · 1 month

Text

retired ghoap going on a renovation competition show

ghost takes over the budget and he's ruthless with it; tracking every paint swatch and piece of lumber down to the last cent, haggling for every purchase and making the most of their coupons. soap's in charge of design; he can visualise floor plans better than anyone, seeing the completed spaces in his mind when they’re little more than a steel shell

they run their site like a military base, treating their builders like rookies; expecting them to follow orders but also waiting for them to inevitably mess up so they can fix it

they're an immediate shock to the judges; they fully expected them to have no idea what they're doing, to have no understanding of style or trends, but they didn't sign up just for shits and giggles

they know how to hit a brief and can do physical labour faster than the actual builders. with soap's discerning eye and ghost's practically, they design gorgeous rooms and become a real threat for the prize money. they handle the stress and sleepless nights like it's second nature bc really, it is; a few all nighters painting are nothing compared to being shot at

they also take great joy in messing with the other couples

it takes a while for them to figure out they're even married; they argue like it's going out of fashion, never holding their opinions or frustrations back but it's their love language as much as their banter. you can hear them barking at each other from across the site; callsigns and “It” and “sergeant” thrown around just like in the field

the challenges are where they have the most fun

the day to day? that's work; they're strict, both with themselves and the schedule, never letting anything fall behind or go incompleted. but the challenges? that's play time. they love pushing the brief, toeing the line of the rules purely bc they can

they get to a two part art challenge and ghost's scheming before before the host even opens their mouth. part one? one half of the couple has to design some kind of art piece that will feature in their house. part two? the other person has to gather supplies and tools and make the art

there's a time limit for how long they can take to gather the supplies; once it's up, they can't go back for more and they can only use what they can carry themselves to their station. they're in a warehouse filled with scrap and paint and tools, the choices almost overwhelming

ghost politely interrupts the host to ask for a clarification; absolutely anything in the warehouse can be used so long as they can carry it?

the host confirms; anything under the roof is their's to use

ghost thanks them and steps back in line, standing at attention and waiting for round one to start

ghost volunteers to be the one to do the art, shocking everyone since soap is well known as the artist of the two of them. but soap sees the mischief in his eyes; he knows he's up to something and can't wait to see where it goes

the timer starts and ghost immediately shucks his hoodie and gets to grabbing; stuffing the impromptu bag with everything he recognises from soap's own supplies. there's seconds to go when he bolts for soap, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry

the other couples are pissed and call it cheating, trying to get them disqualified

ghost just shrugs, soap still over his shoulder, "they said we can use anything we can carry. i followed the brief"

soap just laughs like a mad man

they win the challenge by a landslide

everything's going smoothly, they've won enough room reveals that they’re in a good financial position, they’re ahead in their current room and in a great headspace

then soap gets injured

it's an honest mistake, a part of the roof they thought was stable collapsing and hitting soap

and ghost, always calm and in control, panics

he's on the other side of the site when he hears soap cry out and goes running; shoving past cameramen and builders, screaming to know what happened before he even sees him. he finds soap on the ground, blood dripping from his temple and it's too familiar; a thing he sees in his nightmares

he doesn't know what to do with all his fear so instead, he channels it into anger

he goes off on all his builders, demanding to know how they could be so useless and careless as to miss the unstable roof; screaming at them in a way he hasn't done since he was on active duty, tearing down a rookie for poor trigger management

all the while, his gentle hands tend to soap; checking the wound, if he's concussed, soothing him before he can slip into a flashback of his own. he growls at the cameras, doesn't let the onsite medics anywhere near him; he doesn't know them, doesn't trust them with his johnny. it's only soap's gentle convincing that makes him step back, that forces him to stop and breathe; glaring the medics down from soap's side as they check him and come to the same conclusion soap already reached

he'll be iust fine; a few stitches and he'll be right back in it

ghost goes with him to the hospital to get the stitches laid, abandoning the site to their terrified builders to look after. it takes a few days before he can handle them being separated again, can't even handle one of them going shopping while the other site manages

but soap doesn't begrudge him for his clinginess, not when he knows it's rooted in the fear of losing him. he just keeps him close and calls him his good luck charm when they win the room reveal that week

#new season of the block's on you know what that means! putting my blorbos in every other aspect of my life!#it was so hard writing this without using tradie instead of builder lmao #i love putting ghoap in real situations #like these guys arent normal lmao so putting them in something as typical as a reno show is hilarious #can you imagine ghost shopping for tiles? comparing feature tiles and splash backs and tapwear like its life or death #i just know production would hate him a little bc of the mask he still wears but they also know theyll bring in a different demographic #they also think they can spin the drama of these clueless soldiers who have no idea what theyre doing #just for them to be completely blown away by how skilled they actually are #i just know theyd weird people out tho even retired theyre still unsettling #theres just something about them that puts people on edge #that eases when they see how maddeningly in love with each other they are #just them using military vernacular to build a flat pack #soap still referring to ghost as his superior officer #i love them #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap cod #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod fic #save post

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sorceresssundries · 3 months

Text

The Wizard who Waited

Summary: It is time to go and face the Elder Brain, and Tav stops by Sorcerous Sundries in the hope of saying farewell to Rolan. Let's all just pretend we don't meet him at the high-hall before the battle.

Pairing: Rolan x gn Tav - SFW

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N - This work is inspired by one of George's cameos. Featuring a monologue written by @gender-in-a-blender. I loved it so much that I wanted to create a short story to wrap it in.

'Wait! Before you go, I have something I need to get off my chest. You are without a doubt the most maddening person I have ever met! You are reckless and foolhardy! You put yourself in harm’s way time and time again, and it’s enough to drive a man to insanity... because… You see, I think about you constantly. Wondering where you are, what you’re doing, whether you’re safe. I think about the brief moments of time we’ve had together and how it’s not been enough. How it will never be enough. I know I can’t convince you to stay here with me, safe in this tower, but when this is all over... I want you to come back to me. Please, will you come back to me? Don't answer me right now. Go save the Gods-damned Gate. And if you want this, if you want us... come back to me. I'll be waiting.' - Written by @gender-in-a-blender

It was time.

Night fell, as surely and steadily as it always had. The last blood-red rays of sunlight sank below the skyline of the quaking city, leaving Tav to wonder if they would ever feel its warmth on their skin again.

There was no time to dwell on it. Blades sharp and spells readied, Tav and their companions made their way through Baldur’s Gate, the night air thick with promise. Whether that promise was of victory or defeat, there was no way of knowing, but the dread Tav felt was so intense they could choke on it. Candlelight flickered in the windows of the houses they passed, and babies cried, hushed by fretful parents unable to soothe them from the now-regular tremors rumbling through the city like shockwaves.

It would all end soon.

In front of Tav stood Sorcerous Sundries, light filtering out from the stained glass of the magnificent domed roof, scattering ripples of blue and orange through the surrounding streets.

Perhaps Rolan was there...

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Tav said to their steel-faced companions. “Let me see if I can get any last-minute supplies…”

They exchanged a knowing glance as Tav headed off.

“Darling, a giant brain is about to split the city apart, is now really the time for this?” Astarion called as Tav made their way over to the wizarding shop. Tav ignored him, as they often did.

“Leave it, Istik. A warrior should be granted a final goodbye to the source of their joy before a battle.” Lae’zel’s usually sharp voice was solemn.

The source of their joy. Was it so obvious?

It was late, and the shop was empty. Only a few enchanted sets of armor clunked around, guarding the precious wares and tomes. Despite its emptiness, the air was ripe with magic, sweet and delicate, like spun sugar and silk. The disappointment of not seeing the new archmage at the front desk busying himself in books was more profound than Tav had thought it would be. He must be in his tower. Perhaps they could leave him a letter, or even a...

“Well, if it isn’t the meddling hero!” Rolan appeared at the top of the stairs. His words were a usual wry quip, but a smile played on his lips, warm and inviting. “What trouble are you in now?” He made his way across to Tav, he looked as beautiful as ever.

Tav saw his gaze rake over their freshly sharpened blade and restless hands. His smile died.

“I…” Tav hesitated, searching for the right words. “We’ve gathered what we need to destroy the Absolute. We’re leaving now.” Tav wanted to say goodbye, but the words didn’t leave their throat.

The truth was, it was more than saying goodbye. Tav had stopped by to commit his face to memory. To count and remember each freckle and burn them so deeply into them that not even death could wipe them away. They were a constellation Tav wanted to map out and carry with them, wherever they went. They wanted to hear his voice one last time, so it would be fresh and colourful in their mind as the world quieted into darkness around them.

They wanted to tell him they loved him, but couldn’t bring themselves to say it.

It wasn’t fair to offer that now, freshly uncovered and full of potential with nowhere to spread out it’s wings. It is a precious thing, deserving more than to be grasped for a fleeting moment only to be let go.

‘I love you’ was a beginning to something that Tav couldn’t offer.

“Right.” Rolan looked up through the stained dome of the ceiling, up to the stars, and squared his shoulders. “Let me leave a note for Cal and Lia. I’ll grab a few things and then…”

“No!” Tav grabbed hold of his arm in a panic before he could move away. “I need you to stay here.” His face slips further into his familiar frown.

“I can assure you I am perfectly capable of helping, despite what I may have demonstrated so far.”

“I know,” Tav said as calmly as they could, trying to keep the frayed edges of their nerves from knotting into their voice. They couldn’t let him know how frightened they were; it wouldn’t be fair.

“I need you to prepare the artillery. We’ll need it when the time comes.” Tav could see he was torn, clever thoughts dancing just behind his eyes, restless and painful. “Besides, the city will be in trouble and the tower will be the safest place for people looking for shelter. The safest place for Cal and Lia. For you. Please, Rolan. I’ll send a signal for when to fire.”

“Get someone else to send the damned signal! Stay here, if it’s so safe.”

“I can’t.”

“Let the others handle it!”

“Rolan.”

“Why must it be you?! Don’t be so foolish!”

“Rolan…”

“Surely there is someone else out there willing to die for this fucking city.” The air fizzled with his anger. Tav took a deep breath, steadying themselves.

“Am I allowed to say something now?”

“Not if that something is ‘goodbye’” His voice cracked against that final word.

The world had not been kind to Rolan. Tav couldn’t bear to think about the countless goodbyes he must have endured throughout his life. To Elturel, his family, his friends, and now, to them. The scars of these losses ran deep, each one carving away a piece of his heart. Another challenge was about to come his way, and Tav prayed his would be the last scar Rolan would ever have to bear. He deserved a life of joy with the ones he loved, free to settle into the peace he had fought for.

The thought of not being there to witness it almost caused Tav to crumble. They could picture it so clearly - Rolan laughing with his siblings, standing in the moonlight at the top of his tower, gazing down at the home he had finally found. It was a vision Tav yearned to be part of, but one they knew they might never see.

They had to leave now, or they would lose the strength to go at all.

“I know what needs to be done, and I have what is needed to do it.” Tav eyes shimmer. “It has to be me.”

They took a step towards him, a hand held out, but Rolan stopped them before they could get close.

“Don’t you dare hug me! I do not want our only embrace to have been as you wave me off on your way to war, leaving me behind like some weepy, heart-wrecked widow.”

A fresh ache stretched out in Tav's chest. Would he really let them leave without at least a hug goodbye? They hadn’t realised how much they had been relying on it.

“The world could end if I don’t go.” Tav said simply.

“Let it” Rolan replied.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words; the soldier who came to say goodbye and the wizard who would not let them. Another rumble shook the walls, and books tumbled from their shelves, scattering like fallen bodies across the floor, spines cracked and splayed open.

“We’re running out of time,” Tav said softly, unsure if they were referring to the world or the two of them. In this moment, it might as well be the same thing.

Rolan sighed deeply, holding his head in his hands for a few moments, his tail swaying in agitation. Tav wanted to go to him, to feel his arms wrap around them and lose themselves in the few quiet moments they had left, for their own sake as well as his.

His reaction was different from what Tav expected.

“You are without a doubt the most maddening person I have ever met!” Rolan suddenly burst out. Tav didn’t know how to respond; they hadn’t been expecting a scolding. Rolan took a step forward, coming within reaching distance. His eyes blazed and his chest heaved with angry breaths.

“You are reckless and foolhardy! You put yourself in harm’s way time and time again, and it’s enough to drive a man to insanity... because…” The bluster suddenly lessened, and the hurt and worry spilled through the cracks in his voice. “You see, I think about you constantly. Wondering where you are, what you’re doing, whether you’re safe. I think about the brief moments of time we’ve had together and how it’s not been enough. How it will never be enough. I know I can’t convince you to stay here with me, safe in this tower, but when this is all over... I want you to come back to me. Please, will you come back to me?”

He sounded gentle and afraid, and Tav wanted to say, “Of course I will. Of course, you stubborn, uptight, short-tempered, wonderful man.” But that was not an oath they could bring themselves to swear. Tav couldn’t bear the thought of dying with the pain of a breaking a promise to the man they loved.

“Don’t answer me right now,” he sighed into the hesitant silence. “Wait there.”

He began to move through the chaos of the shop, rifling through drawers, shifting clinking bottles in cabinets, and pulling down various concoctions to gather in his arms. Murmuring in Infernal as he read labels and blew off dust, he eventually brought his collection back over to Tav.

Placing them on the counter, he started to sort through them.

“Thank you, but I really don't need…”

“Shut up and take them. This one is peerless focus. Give it to Gale; it will help him maintain his concentration. Gods know that fool will need it. This one is Bloodlust, fitting for your vampire friend. There are a few oils for blades and arrows which will increase their effectiveness. Giant Strength for Karlach and Lae’zel. And this one is for you.”

He set down a small vial that glistened with a honey-like substance, viscous and molten, the same color as his eyes.

“Guileful Movement,” he declared, his fierce gaze meeting Tav’s.

“You are strong, but you lack speed, and you get so caught up in watching out for everyone else that you leave yourself vulnerable.”

Placing the vial in Tav’s palm, he wrapped his hands around theirs, the warmth and softness comforting.

“Drink it before you fight. Move fast. Focus on your own strikes, and for the love of gods, run if you need to. You never seemed to do enough running.”

Tav smiled at him. “I never needed to.”

“Yes, yes, you were very tough and brave and beautiful, but trust me, there was no shame in running.” He kissed Tav’s hand, still cradled between both of his. “Run back to me.”

There was a sudden gentleness to his voice that Tav hadn’t properly heard before. They wanted to spend entire afternoons, whole summers, a lifetime sinking into the softness of that voice. They only had a few minutes at most.

Tav smiled, for the first time since coming into the store. Rolan wanted them to come back to him, he believed he would see them again. Perhaps things weren’t so bleak after all. A warm drop of hope fell upon Tav’s poor, burnt-out heart and it was enough to let something settle and take root.

“Look at how far you’ve come.” Tav cradled his cheek with their palm. “From the chains of hell to the top of the tower. You, Cal, and Lia, all safe and together, as you should be.”

“I should be keeping you safe.” His voice was small and quiet as he fixed his eyes to the floor.

“Always the protector.” Tav said, and they tilted his chin so his gentle eyes meet theirs. “You are. Keep me safe a little longer, wait for me, and i’ll come back to you.”

They kissed then, for the first time.

When Tav had imagined their first kiss with Rolan, they had expected softness, uncertainty, maybe a little clumsiness—but there was none of that here. There was no time to be uncertain. His hands gripped the front of Tav’s robes like they were a lifeline, and his lips caressed theirs as though the taste of them could save him. Tav held onto him just as desperately in return, wishing it was enough to anchor them there.

Tav craved the luxury of an unhurried, tentative kiss. Perhaps during a leisurely stroll through the park, or after a little wine-soaked bravery from an evening spent together in the Elf-song Tavern. A slow kiss under a clear sky, savouring the joy of knowing it didn’t have to be perfect - it just had to be the first of many.

Tav thought of this now as his mouth moved against theirs, feeling the cool dampness of his tears mingling with their own. The kiss softened, their breaths steadied.

It was time to say goodbye.

Tav reluctantly pulled back, their forehead resting against Rolan's.

"That was not a last kiss," Rolan said, his voice a hushed murmur. "That was a first."

Tav nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in their throat. They didn't trust themselves to speak, afraid that any words would break the fragile dam keeping them together.

Rolan's hands lingered on Tav's cheeks for a moment before he let them fall to his sides. "Go save the Gods-damned Gate," he said, his voice steadier now, "And if you want this, if you want us... come back to me. I'll be waiting."

It was done.

Tav left more hopeful than when they arrived, their soul bright and burning and loved.

They had a battle to win, and a new future to fight for.

______________________________________________________________

Hours had now passed, and Rolan stood at the top of his tower, a solitary silhouette against the flames and cries that echoed through the city. He gripped the ledge with white-knuckled intensity, his red skin stark against the pale stone, keeping himself steady.

The cannon had been fired, its aim fierce and true, and Rolan knew he had done all he could. Below him, Baldur’s Gate burned. Nautiloids filled the night sky, their fiery payloads raining down destruction, and the air was so choked with smoke that Rolan thought even the gaze of the Gods could not pierce it. There would be no help from them now. Debris and explosions collided with the tower's defenses, dissipating into dust and smoke against invisible barriers. Cal and Lia were on the lowest level, rallying the survivors, providing aid and shelter amidst the devastation.

His eyes, accustomed to fire and loss, remained fixed on the High Hall and the looming Elder Brain above it. The city was a grim echo of a past he did not want to think about. How many war-torn, flame-licked cities would he have to watch be assaulted?

He could not think of Elturel now; that was the past, and he had a future to hope for.

The temptation to reach for a bottle, to drown his helplessness in wine as he had done at the Last Light Inn, tugged at him. But he resisted. He was not that man anymore; Tav had made sure of that. He would not succumb to ineffectuality. He was more than he was then. For Tav’s sake, for his own sake, he would wait here, steadfast and vigilant. He would watch out for the person he loved, for as long as it took.

Through the smoke and clouds, atop the brain, strobes of magic flickered. He tried to discern the signs of each spell, to picture the battle. The light was dim and soft through the smoke, like lightning blanketed by storm clouds. The flashes of battle-slung spells bloomed through the dark. Sounds of cracks and hisses followed the scattered lights, shots of reds and greens and pulsing golds.

Rolan’s heart pounded with each flare, each distant explosion. He imagined Tav amidst the fray, their blade slashing through the chaos, their determination as fierce as ever. He whispered a silent prayer to any deity who might be listening, hoping that Tav’s courage and skill would see them through this nightmare.

The minutes stretched into an eternity. Every second felt like a lifetime, the wait unbearable. But Rolan watched and he waited, the fate of Baldur’s Gate - and his heart - hanging in the balance.

And then, the elder brain fell.

Time fractured into shards as the creature tumbled from the sky like a marionette with severed strings. It convulsed and spasmed, desperate waves of psychic shockwaves firing from it erratically. The dangling spinal column lashed and whipped into the city's buildings as it descended, ensuring a final barrage of destruction. With a resounding crash, it plunged into the waters of the Chionthar, its reign of terror culminating in a colossal, explosive orb of energy. The shockwave erupted outward, smashing through the city, shattering glass and hurling Rolan backward, knocking him against the wall of his tower and into unconsciousness. His last thought as he slipped away being of Tav’s fate, and the certainty that he would not see them again.

He was wrong.

When Rolan awoke, roused by Lia and dragged down to help the wounded, he felt broken. It hurt to breathe, to think. He just wanted to get out into the city, where the light of a new day spilled over the wreckage of the night before. He wanted to find Tav, whatever that meant.

The hero of Baldur’s Gate stood, leaning against the doorway to the tower, clutching their side. Bloodstained and bruised, their armor and weapon abandoned, they now wore only a sweat-soaked shirt and trousers, looking less like a mighty hero and more like a lost refugee. The second they saw Rolan amid the survivors and chaos, joy filled their chest and pulled a laugh from between cracked ribs.

It was over. They had won. And even though their legs were tired, their muscles burned, and their heart ached from saying goodbye to forged family, they had come back.

The taste of the golden, honey-thick potion Rolan had pressed into their palm still lingered sweetly on their tongue.

They had run back to him.

Rolan's eyes widened when he spotted Tav. He pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests of those around him. In moments, he was in front of them, his hands hovering uncertainly before he finally pulled them into a tight embrace. The feel of his arms around them was everything Tav had fought for.

“You idiot! I thought you were dead.” He admonished.

“Careful.” Said Tav, wincing from the enthusiasm of his hug. “Don’t be greedy.”

There would be time now, in the settling dust, for peace to be found, clutched, and cherished.

For the two heroes who had given each other hope when it had all but been extinguished.

For the soldier who came to say goodbye, and the wizard who did not let them.

#holy rolan empire #rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan fanfic #rolan fanfiction #rolan x tav #The Rolan bakery

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tornado1992 · 7 months

Text

Tails was hungry.

Chili dogs were warm, quick to make, and they lasted long. Chili dogs were the answer whenever he didn’t feel like cooking but still neeeded something to eat. Chili dogs were his comfort when Sonic spent too much time traveling without coming by to any of his live-in labs.

Chili dogs were the first warm meal he ever ate. Maybe that’s why they were his comfort food, but who could blame him? Sonic made the best chili dogs in the world!

Sonic wasn’t with him tonight though, but he still needed to eat, he had been pulling several all nighters lately and didn’t even have time to wash the grease off his hands or clean the ash on his face, so chilidogs it was.

He hadn’t found the canned chili brand they liked best, it was harder to find it lately, but he had a can a from a few weeks ago, he was planing on saving it for a special occasion, even if it wasn’t his favorite brand, it was still chilli, and he still preferred skipping a few meals to gather enough ingredients to cook his comfort food when he could finally reach his goal than just inhaling whatever he could find while working.

He hadn’t reached his goal yet, he just needed some more time, and Sonic always told him that eating properly was more important than reaching goals or deadlines.

The bread was kinda hard by now, and flattened to thin pieces for being stocked in a raggedy backpack for way too long, but it was edible, he has eaten way worse things before, he had eaten wet, passed, moldy bread scraps back when he hadn’t met Sonic yet, he could eat something like that right now, so he could eat this no problem. It wasn’t perfect, but Sonic wouldn’t be eating this, so it didn’t have to be perfect.

The hot dog wasn’t the best either, being forced to boil it on an old pot over a tiny campfire instead of frying it in a pan in his usual way to cook chili dogs, but getting a pan meant getting access to steel, and getting access to any kind of metal meant getting access to a weapon, he had to prioritize any weapon he could find, even if they were almost useless against the robot armies that appeared around him almost every hour, and even if it meant not cooking his dinner in Sonic’s favorite style of chili dog.

It was okay, campfire meals brought him the best memories anyways.

He wasn’t secure being outdoors, but almost no place in the world was populated enough to be considered safe, not at this point, not since five months ago. The only place know to not being taken yet being the one he never planned to come back to. So starting a campfire and risking himself to being tracked down by the enemy was still better than coming back to the people that turned their backs on him. Even if coming back could mean a roof over his head, three meals a day, and a warm bed, it still meant accepting he was wrong the day he left. And he wasn’t wrong, he isn’t wrong, he just needs more time, and to have more time required him to eat, and if eating out here would get him more time, It was still better than returning to those who refused to believe him.

He cooked double the amount he would usually eat on his own, back when he was home.

No one would join him for dinner that night. He had been dining alone for some time now.

It was out of habit, he knew exactly how much he should’ve cooked for himself. He could eat it all on his own, it’s not like his stomach would refuse to, hell, he could feel his tummy practically begging for a proper meal, the throbbing pain reminding him of a way worse place than the war zone he was in right now.

He already prepared it, he used all his supplies in this single meal, if he rushed he could finish it quickly and put out the fire before anyone could notice him. That would give him energy, that would give him time.

But he didn’t deserve chili dogs. Not when they were his brother’s favorite meal, not his. Not when he stole food from the resistance’s storage room before abandoning them. Not when his brother could be anywhere, alone, cold, and hungry. Not when there was even the slightest possibility of Sonic actually being dead.

And if he was, it was Tails’ fault.

So if Eggman captured him for standing still, near a campfire, just staring at some freshly cooked chili dogs in Eggman Empire territory… maybe it was for the best.

Maybe he’ll take him to Sonic.

#sonic forces #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #sonic and tails #unbreakable bond #they’re brothers your honor #haha starved tails because he wanted to dine with his brother #i sure hope he finds him

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florvaine · 1 month

Text

a moment to focus.

Even after a panic, you and Carl both have time to recalibrate again.

Genre: fluff, hurt w comfort.

Relationship: Carl Grimes x Reader (gender not mentioned)

Warnings: typical TWD related warnings, swearing, possible grammar/spelling mistakes

-— IT HAD TAKEN A WHILE FOR RICK AND MICHONNE TO ALLOW YOU AND CARL TO GO OUTSIDE OF ALEXANDRIA ALONE. Michonne was a little more open to the idea, Rick needed all three of you to try convince him before actually even considering it. Nevertheless, it's amounted to you and your boyfriend finally being permitted to go on a small, unimportant supply run into the nearest city for whatever you wanted.

The trip wasn't too long, slightly strenuous due to the lack of mobile transport, but scenic and peaceful. It seems as though Rick passed through before you two left, clearing it out all the way to the town. Clouds sprinkle the sky, a few covering the sun momentarily before the heat returns onto your backs. The leaves on the trees had started to turn orange and yellow, as if the sly chill now in the air didn't already signal the end of Summer and the introduction to Autumn.

Now, you and him are separated by the dusty shelves of a decrepit book store, Carl attempting to find a new comic book series to indulge in and you trying to find a longer book for you to distract yourself with.

Sighing, you put another paperback into it's spot before you picked it up, reading yet another unconvincing blurb. You scan the place, the sunlight filtering through the dirtied windows across the rectangular building, tiny particles of dust float in the air like miniature pixies. The floor, a dark blue carpet, it covered with debris from the falling roof tiles, showing just how old the store was.

The shuffling of boots behind you takes your attention away from the appearance of the place, instead making eye contact with Carl. He's in his monochrome flannel, a white shirt underneath and slightly baggy black jeans over his brown boots; a new bandage over his eye and his hat shading his face.

"I found one," He looks down, flicking through the colourful pages quickly before stuffing it into his canvas bag with the others, "Got the whole series as well. You found anything?"

"Nope," You reply, turning back around to the sign that read 'FICTION' in bold capitals, "It's like the same story is just titled differently and published over and over."

As you're about to take another off the shelf again you accidently knock a thickly binded one off onto the floor. A cloud of dust follows and an array of growling sounds from the back room. From where the two of you are stood it's a clear view to the door with a hanging 'EMPLOYEE'S ONLY' sign on it, the source of all the noise.

"I didn't even know they were in there." You mutter.

"Neither."

There's a moment of silence as you crouch and pick up the book, putting it back on the shelf. In the process you pick up your bag from the floor, slinging it over your shoulders and sniffling from the dust. The snarling continues, the muffled sound hanging in the air around you two.

Glancing back at Carl, you reach for the axe hanging from your belt, "Should we check it out?"

The brunette steps ahead of you, hand on the handle of his knife as he rears closer to the door. He presses his ear to the wall and listens, holding a finger up to you to tell you to be quiet. Obliging, you move to stand just behind him, awaiting his input.

"It doesn't sound like there’s a lot of them, we could go in and take them out, see if there's anything else we can take back." He looks back at you, tilting his head slightly as he gauges your reaction.

You nod, shrugging, and a second later the two of you enter the room with your blades and weapons drawn. There's no lights, as expected, only the limited natural light that fell from the small oblong windows at the very top of the large, grey-walled stock room. Steel shelf after shelf, each holding multiple boxes - opened or not - as well as packing stations for online orders and bags for those at the till in the front.

The first thing you notice is the green bag dangling from a sturdy nail in the wall to the right of the door. Unzipping it you were greeted with a collection of bandages and gauze, sanitary supplies, plasters, a tourniquet, as well as latex gloves. Showing the bag to Carl he gestures to his bag, and you quickly shove it in with his comics, carful not to damage them in the process.

Moving further in together, you covering his back and him covering yours, the two of you look down an aisle at a time. The first had two walkers which you both took out immediately before going down it, taking your time to open each box in case something was hidden. It seemed to be time wasted as you both end up with nothing afterwards.

Carl walks to the end with a huff, turning around the corner to go into the next aisle, announcing it to you in a mutter.

He squints, the room not exactly the best for him to be in. Not only does he now have a blind side, but the lack of light and ruined depth perception is really messing with him. He moves his head to try see better, counting four zombies as he gets closer to them.

It takes him a minute or two to get them all, the first and second going down easily as he had caught them by surprise. Struggling with the last two due to them crowding him, he huffs and makes quick work of driving his knife into their skulls. Their bodies fall onto the tiled floor like sacks of dirt. He could never get used to the sound when he takes his knife back never gets easier to hear, nor does the sight afterwards. Carl has to stop himself from overthinking - there's no use in spending precious time dwelling over the dead.

He pokes his head around the closest boxes, smiling as he sees you opposite him, occupied with another box on the other side of the shelving unit. Shining his light onto them, he finally catches your attention, you giving him a huff of a laugh before placing whatever you were inspecting down.

"You found anything?" You ask, glancing at a box of paperback books. You take it out, skimming over the blurb, with your interest piqued you place it in your bag.

He shakes his head whilst you do so, "Nothing, it's all branded bags, books and tissue paper, best we got was the ki-"

The brunette cuts himself off with a curse, suddenly disappearing from your limited view from the other side of the unit.

"Carl!" You shout, blinking rapidly as you try pull yourself of the frozen state you found yourself in.

The panic shoots straight to the nerves in your legs, sending you bolting the shortest way to reach the end of the unit you were on.

With your torch long forgotten you take a single moment to register what was happening in the dark - a crawler underneath another unit grappled onto his ankle like a bear trap, dragging him towards the snarling, snapping jaws of death like a ravenous piranha.

As if the surprise encounter wasn't already the worst, his gun is far from him and on his blind side, hand grasping on dust and ceramic grey as you continue to rush to his aid. Coming closer you draw your axe from where it was on your belt just as Carl plants his free foot onto a bottom shelf to try push himself away.

In a second you put all your strength into bringing the weapon into the air and down onto it skull, crushing the decaying bones and flesh underneath the force of which you did so. Blood spurts in every which way, the walkers head like a scarlet grand canyon when you remove the blade. There's droplets scattered along the material of his and your shoes, and a drop or three on your face.

You huff, looking at Carl. He's panting, eye wide and slightly hunched to remove the now loosened hand from his leg. There's a singular drop of sweat from his knitted brow which he wipes away with the sleeve of his flannel. The panic you felt filters through your veins and into the ground, dissipating as soon as relief overshadows it.

"You alright?" You ask, crouching to sit beside him.

The long-haired boy nods, "I'm good,"

"Why didn't you use your knife?"

He closes his eyes in a grimace, "I panicked."

"I thought we were way past panicking when seeing a walker, Carl," You reply, half worried, half angry.

"I thought I was too," He trails off, taking off his hat and resting his head onto the box behind him.

Sighing, you hold back the rest of your scolding to give him another once over. Your view is limited from the lack of light, however his leg is okay and his face seems fine, not a scratch in sight, just dust and grime smeared over the texture of his freckled skin from the time spent exploring. Messy brown locks from his fringe hook onto the material of his eyepatch. Now he sits back, with his eye closed you can see his lashes gently pressing against the slightly flushed skin beneath his eyes.

His own eye catches yours, but you don't look away, and neither does he. It seems he's doing his own check, light cobalt scanning every inch of your face for anything he knew was out of the ordinary. If the two of you didn't just escape the other being bitten it would've made you nervous. It takes a moment for his eyebrows to furrow and the warmth of his palm to press against your face.

Carl pulls you closer to him and for a second you believed he was going to kiss you like he did that morning, instead he hyper fixates on an area on your forehead.

"You're hurt," He mutters with slight haste in his words and takes his hand from your face, immediately taking off his bag and pulling out the kit you found earlier.

Your face fills with confusion as you raise your hand to touch your forehead for the injury you weren't even aware of. It's not a cut but a shallow gash and you hiss as you finally feel it.

"Don't touch it!" He scolds you lightly, rifling through the kit and pulling out a wide plaster and an antiseptic wipe.

You lean back into the unit behind you, mumbling, "I didn't even know I got hurt,"

Carl says nothing in reply, his only focus being the now dripping wound on your head. He gently pulls you into a golden ray of sunshine from a window, away from the now fully dead corpse and to see better with the light casting over your figure. You don't care about the stinging from the antibacterial wipes, taking advantage of his distracted state to run your eyes over him again, trying to indent his being into your mind. Cast in amber behind him, an intense yet nurturing stare directed towards you, with everything in this world today, you don't think you've ever seen this look on him before.

It's undoubtably attractive, being so important to someone that they look at you like that.

"Focus looks good on you." You say, voice low and your gaze on him.

For a second he glances back at you, eye contact sticking like dripping honey, before he looks away, shuffling slightly and licking his lips. It nearly pulls you away from the light pink fading into the tips of his ears. The sound of thin plastic tearing from paper sounds around the two of you as he opens the plaster.

He takes a sharp breath in, "You hit your head or somethin'?"

"No, I think I'd remember that."

His eye is back to the gash as he lines the plaster up perfecting with it. Before you know it he's swiping the rubbish underneath the shelf and slinging his bag onto his back again. After he gains his footing he reaches his hand out to you, and soon enough the two of you are up and moving again. The both of you agree to just scan the place quickly and get out, but before you split up again he reaches for your wrist, lightly pulling you back into him.

His lips are on yours right after. It was only a peck, but who were you to complain? The second you register it, it's gone, but it speaks volumes. It's a 'thank you', his way of displaying you the feelings he felt the moment he was in danger, and the moment you took him straight out of it, and the time he took to patch you up even if it wasn't a major lesion. He cares, and he is grateful for the things you do and are even you aren't aware of them.

The look in his eye when he pulls away speaks for him in a way so that he doesn't need to actually say anything. He's never been fond of PDA (if it even counts when you're in a warehouse alone) but it seems even Carl Grimes reaches his boiling point sometimes. Hands lingering on your shoulders, he slips them off the straps of your rucksack and to his side, where his knife and gun now rest again, before speaking again.

"Let's just go, we have everything." He declares, leaving no room for debate. You shrug and follow behind him, the two of you now on the way to exit the bookstore.

"Fine by me." You reply. wc: 2.3k

#*{ ‘. florawrites<3 #carl grimes x reader #x reader #twd x reader #fluff #fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #carl x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you

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colorbonds-roofing-suppliers · 1 year

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Roofing Supplies Brisbane - Steel Roofing Suppliers

ClickSteel boasts a wide array of steel roofing supplies, including metal sheets, roofing panels, insulation, guttering, downpipes, and much more. Whatever your roofing requirements may be, ClickSteel has you covered.

#Roofing Supplies Brisbane #Steel Roofing Suppliers #COLORBOND Roofing #Roofing & Walling #COLORBOND steel brand

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 9 months

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1956 Chrysler Norseman

The Dream Car at the Bottom of the Atlantic: 1956 Chrysler Norseman

Despite its sleek and dramatic styling, this Chrysler show car is remembered mainly for its sad fate: For decades now, it has been sleeping at the bottom of the Atlantic. Here’s the unfortunate story of the 1956 Norseman.

Throughout the 1950s, the Italian coachbuilder Ghia of Turin enjoyed a prolific partnership with Chrysler, creating many of the Motor City automaker’s most memorable show cars. Chrysler provided the designs, chassis, and running gear, while Ghia’s artisans created the hand-crafted bodies, typically at a fraction of the cost and time required in America.

However, there was at least one Chrysler-Ghia collaboration that was never officially shown to the public: the ill-fated 1956 Norseman. On its voyage to Detroit aboard the Andrea Doria, the Italian passenger liner collided with another ship, the Stockholm, and sank around 50 miles off the coast of Nantucket, claiming 51 lives. Since July of 1956, the Norseman has rested in the Andrea Doria’s hold at the bottom of the Atlantic, and a handful of photos are all that remain.

Designed under the supervision of Chrysler styling chief Virgil Exner, the Norseman showcased a number of distinctive features, but arguably the most spectacular was its fully cantilevered roof, reportedly conceived by Chrysler stylist Bill Brownlie. With no A or B pillars, the top was supported entirely by the buttress-like C pillars, aided by a pair of thin steel rods in tension at the forward edge of the panel. Other distinctive touches included hidden headlamps and floating bumpers front and rear.

The Norseman was constructed on a 129-inch wheelbase chassis—the same wheelbase as an Imperial, we note—while a 331 CID hemi V8 provided the power, coupled to a PowerFlite two-speed automatic transmission. According to Chrysler, the idea car, as the automaker called its show car prototypes, represented an investment of 50,000 man-hours and $150,000 to $200,000, while Ghia’s portion of the build consumed $15,000 and took 15 months, it’s said.

This photo of the Norseman’s cockpit, above, also provides a close look at the pillarless roof construction and the elaborate one-piece windscreen supplied by PPG Industries. Four bucket seats upholstered in two-tone metallic leather were separated by broad consoles front and rear, while the front seat backs pivoted to provide easier access for rear passengers.

Since the Norseman went to Davy Jones’ locker before it was ever officially photographed or displayed, very few images exist. (There is even some dispute about the color of the paint.) The few available photos were all taken at Ghia in Turin, including the fascinating shot below of the wooden body buck on which the aluminum body panels were formed. The rare snapshot provides some insight into the tremendous amount of hand labor required. While the Norseman and its unfortunate history are well-remembered today, few if any of its exotic features ever made it to a Chrysler production vehicle.

#Chrysler Norseman #chrysler #norseman #car #cars #mopar #moparperformance #moparnation #moparworld

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avengerscompound · 23 days

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Shared Experience - Chapter 7

Shared Experience - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating: E

Warnings: vampire stuff, mentions of past sexual assault, sex talk, foreplay

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Rose Astor

Word Count: 2000

Summary: Rose Astor met her end in 1920, joining the ranks of the living dead two years after the birth of Steve Rogers. A century later the two meet in battle - a beacon of light clashing with a creature of the night. Despite their differences, the two bond over their shared life experiences. Can a vampire become an Avenger? Can two such different beings create a life together?

Chapter 7

The relationship between Steve and Rose progressed slowly and Rose wasn’t sure if that was due to Steve or her. Steve was extremely respectful. Sometimes to the point of frustration. Their first kiss was one of the rarer occasions of him acting without at least implied consent. It was refreshing after her past, and she appreciated that Steve wasn’t racing to the finish line, but she wondered if maybe he was so old-fashioned and such a gentleman that he would want to wait until marriage. That was something that might not work for Rose. She had always been sexual, and she didn’t even know if she could legally get married given that she was legally dead.

She wondered if he was waiting for her to take the lead. He did know her past, and if it was just a case of him waiting for her, she wasn’t quite sure how to take that next step.

The problem wasn’t so much her past experience. That always affected the way she dealt with sex and sexual advances, but she’d had sixty years to work out how to reconcile her trauma with her urges and figure out what she needed to feel okay. The issue was she’d perfected that with mortals she had no connection with. They were her food supply first and she didn’t care if she offended them by telling them what she wanted. It also meant that food and sex were now entwined in her mind and she worried that she wasn’t going to be able to pick them apart.

Of course, talking to Steve would be a simple way to work through that problem, she wasn’t exactly sure how you bring up wanting to have sex with someone and being afraid that it might make her want to eat them.

So she took it slow. She went to training and afterward, she and Steve would spend time together - sometimes as a group with the other Avengers, but most of the time just him and her alone. They spent a lot of time listening to music together, dancing, talking, and making out. Dating was difficult though, as they trained when the sun set, and by the time training was done, restaurants were closing, and even if they weren’t, it wasn’t as if she ate.

They did their best with what they had, and Rose began to realize that alienating herself from humanity had been part of the way Marcellus controlled her. Accepting her humanity had allowed true happiness to start trickling in.

Her first mission was raiding an AIM facility with Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, and Clint Barton. It was Rose’s job to break in and let them in. It was an easy job with her preternatural powers. None of the cameras were able to pick her up, and her vision meant she could see perfectly well with no lights on, and even picked up things on the infrared spectrum.

She had missed Steve while she was away and when she returned she couldn’t wait to go straight to him. Unfortunately, she’d arrived back during the day and when she’d emerged from the steel box they’d installed on the jet for her to travel in, she’d had to go to a debriefing.

By the time she was in the armory removing her body armor, she was practically itching to see Steve, but it was only an hour before dawn.

She unzipped the catsuit and was tugging it down when the door clicked open. “Rose?”

Rose startled, covering her breasts with her arms as Steve came around the corner. He stopped suddenly and his eyes went wide. “Steve!” she shouted.

“I’m sorry!” he said, his gaze flicking to the roof as he spun around.

The shock of being caught seminaked dropped off almost immediately when she saw his flustered reaction and she dropped her hands and ran to him, pulling him back around and jumping up so she could wrap her arms around his neck. She didn’t even care that her bare breasts were pressed up against his clothed chest. She had missed him and there was no time to worry about her false modesty.

Steve didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They hovered over her for a moment before his arms closed in around her, pulling her up off the ground and into a kiss. It was slow, deep, and tender. She poured every ounce of her feelings for him into that kiss and felt them returned to her tenfold. His hands splayed out on her back as he pulled her tightly against him. Hers went to his hair, carding through it as their lips moved in sync.

Steve slowly lowered her to his feet, breaking the kiss, but keeping her pressed up to him, her breasts squashed against his chest. It wasn’t clear if he was trying to keep them covered or just liked her that close. In either case, Rose was fine with it. She ran her hands down from his hair to his jaw as she looked up into his eyes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said as he looked down at her. “Sam said you did great.”

“It was a piece of cake,” she said and leaned up and kissed him softly again. When she pulled away she looked up at him and bit her bottom lip. “I don’t have much time before the sun sets.”

Steve turned away again, looking up and off to the side, making it extremely obvious that he was avoiding looking at her breasts. “There’s still the coffin here you can sleep in if you want.”

Rose ran her fingers down Steve’s arm and took hold of his hand, smiling at his reaction. “That might be a good idea,” she said. “Steve… don’t you want to see my tits?”

Steve’s face almost turned crimson as he continued to try and look everywhere but at Rose’s breasts.

“I do want to,” he said. “But I just walked in on you, and I haven’t… we haven’t…”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to look, but you can if you want to,” she said. “I want you to.”

Steve slowly lowered his head and looked at her, his eyes first resting on her face and then sliding down to her breasts. She backed away from him. “What do you think?”

His lips twitched, and his eyes flicked up to meet hers again. “Very nice.”

She hooked her fingers into her catsuit at her hips and shimmied from side to side. “You want to see more?”

“Yes,” Steve said, stumbling over the one-syllable word. “I mean - yes. Please.”

She chuckled and began to push the catsuit down, swaying her hips from side to side as she wriggled out of them.

Steve looked at her with lust-darkened eyes and licked his lips. “Uh-huh,” he said, taking a step toward her.

She moved closer, taking his hands and putting them on her breasts. He looked down at her, his chest rising and falling with each breath like he’d just been for a run. His thumbs skimmed over her nipples making them pebble. “Steve,” she whispered.

His eyes snapped up to hers and he lunged in, capturing her lips. As they kissed his hands moved to her thighs and he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pressed her against the wall and started to grind on her. Her body buzzed with stimulation. The rough fabric of his clothing scraped against her soft skin, making it break out into goose pimples, and his growing erection pushed against his pants adding even more friction.

She could hear the blood rushing through his veins as his pulse picked up and rushed down to feed his cock. She tried to focus on the wetness of her cunt and her need for him to penetrate her, but the blood called to her, making her mouth water.

She tried to fight it, but her eyes flashed red and her fangs extended, wanting more than what Steve was offering.

“Stop,” she gasped, pushing on his shoulders. “Steve, I need you to stop.”

He stopped immediately, setting her down on the ground and taking his hands off her. He took a step back to give her space but stayed ready to take her into his arms if that’s what she wanted. Her hands reflexively covered her face. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

“Honey,” Steve said, sounding like a man trying to soothe a wild beast. Not that she could blame him. That’s what she was, after all. “Rose? What happened? Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head and turned away from him. “No. It’s not you. It’s me.”

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he assured her. He grabbed a towel from her locker and held it out to her.

“You don’t understand,” she said, hunching over a little.

He carefully put the towel around her shoulders. “So help me, sweetheart.”

She turned and looked up at him. Her irises which were normally a pale blue were now blood red, the white around them, black as coal. Her lips were parted due to the length of her fangs in their extended state.

Steve blinked in surprise. He didn’t say anything and Rose felt the sudden urge to run from him. All the passion and desire she had been feeling had dissipated. She retracted her teeth and stepped back away from him, pulling the towel around herself.

“What happened?” he asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s nothing you did. I just…” she stopped speaking. She knew she needed to tell him. She knew Steve understood what she was. He’d already accepted that she was a vampire. This felt like a step too far. How could a man like Steve Rogers accept her when she wanted to eat him when they made love?

She sat down and sighed. Steve came and sat beside her. He tentatively put his arm around her. “This is the only real relationship I’ve been in, Steve. You know about Marcellus but after him, and really during my time with him too, sex was linked with feeding.” She paused again. Steve remained silent, letting Rose come to it in her own time. “When I feed it feels good. Especially for my victim. I’d often seduce someone to feed. It’s connected and now I don’t know how to break the connection. And I don’t want to see you as food. I don’t want you to think I see you as food.”

Steve pulled her a little closer to him and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Rose, this is new for both of us. Which is amazing to think about considering how old we both are. I’m not scared of what you are. I know who you are. Look at what’s happening right now. Yes, you had a reaction that scared you, and you stopped. I don’t believe you’re going to hurt me or bite me. We don’t need to rush to sex. Look at me, I was blushing even looking at you. We can take it slow because the one thing we both have is lots of time.”

A tightness wrapped itself around her chest like a snake, and she blinked back tears. It was bad enough that she’d just gone full Vampire on him, she didn’t need to start crying blood. She looked up at him and ran her hand along his jaw. “I don’t deserve you. Not at all.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think that’s how the world works. I want you. Don’t push me away because you’re scared for me. I’m not scared of you.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning in and kissing him. The kiss was soft and tender and with it, she released a little more of the anxiety she was holding. Maybe the relationship could work after all.

// NEXT

#marvel #avengers #marvel fanfic #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #captain america fanfic #steve rogers x oc #fanfic #fanfiction #ofc #smut #shared experience

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