#and then you grow up and find out the widow down the street had her husband killed two weeks before their daughters wedding. nobody believed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astarlow · 10 months

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hello! would love to see widow, mercy, moira, and ashe reacting to their long lost female s/o who was brainwashed. thank you and stay safe!

Characters: Widowmaker, Ashe, Moira Form: Mix Warning: Character death (Ashe's part) Synopsis: After being together for quite some time, s/o disappears without leaving a trace, making their partner reacts Word Count: 2 377 A/n: Hey! I didn't include Mercy because I have done something similar and you can find it here I hope you'll like it for these characters tho! And for the anon that has requested this, sorry for the wait. The draft has been sitting for 3 years ;-; and I just had the motivation to finish it

Widowmaker

🕷️Her sudden disappearance did not concern her, at least, in the beginning

🕷️As time passes, she does get slightly worried but never will she ever admit or show it

🕷️She knows something is amiss when even Sombra can't tell her where she is

🕷️The pain and doubts never fade but she is trained to be a stone-cold killer, she is a fool to believe she could love again

🕷️The next time she meets her, she's in a reclused village in France.

🕷️The place where she met her for the first time and decided to spare her. To this day she still doesn't understand why she did it

She walks in the street, strolling down the path she used to take with her lover. It is only memories now, fading where it belongs, in a void deprived of any emotions. She hides her face with a scarf, her blue skin with gloves and not an inch of her body is visible. Only her face is. She stops in front of a church, next to it is a crèche. Her body halts for a millisecond, recognizing the face leaving the building right away.

She watches her go to the centre of the village, to the garden. She follows her from afar, just like a shadow looming in the dark, like the assassin she is.

She sats on a bench surrounded by children. She takes a book out of her bag, reads it to them and entertains them. A smile graces her face but it is quickly replaced by a frown.

'What is she doing here? After all this time, why is she suddenly appearing before her?'

"Watcha doing love?" This voice belongs to someone she personally knows and not in a good way. She curses internally for allowing herself to grow dull. She didn't notice them coming up nor did she expect Overwatch agents to be in such a small and calm city. Although as a Talon agent, she should be on her guard every time.

She inspects all of her options, weighing each one of them. Tracer shakes her head, pointing at the people posted behind her. "Nu-uh you're not escaping this time love. What are you doing here?" She stays calm, face stoic as she watches her fading into the distance, ushering the kids to go away. She scoffs, what else should she expect?

"This doesn't concern you-" she raises her eyebrows. "-and I am not here to cause trouble."

"I'm not believing in a lie, come on, what would a renowned Talon assassin be here, in a small town like that?" That is indeed a question she couldn't counter. If she did, she would show her weakness. She is surprised when someone links their arms with her own.

"Sorry, sorry. I was so caught up in my storytelling with the kids I forgot about my meeting with her." That is a voice she longed to hear, even if she denies it now. She surprised herself when she stays, arms still linked with hers.

"Uhm- are you sure about that?"

"Yes, you must have confused her with someone else. We'll be taking our leaves, sorry for bothering you." She drags her away under a confused-looking Tracer and a furious soldier. Once they are in a calmer area, she scratches the back of her head with a sheepish smile. A pink hue dusts her cheeks.

"Sorry, I don't know why I did this but you seemed quite uncomfortable in this situation and... It might be silly but it feels like I know you from somewhere." So she has forgotten about her. At least, she got out of this tricky situation thanks to her. Should she pursue their conversation? Mingling her with Talon once again? It is a selfish wish. She already had gone through this one time, why should she a second time?

"You must have made a mistake." And with that, she walks away. She doesn't expect her to block her way.

"Then how about I invite you to drink in a little café? That way, I could get to know you truly."

Ignorance is bliss, she shakes her head, convincing herself she wouldn't drag her one more time through this hell.

"I need to go," she says hastily, voice turning ice cold. If she stays any longer, she won't be able to say no to her. She stares at her form, deflated a bit but a grin on her face nonetheless.

"I'll see you around then Amé!" She almost whips her head around at the mention of her name but she knows better than to do so. It would make her hope, make them hope.

"Such a foolish girl," she mutters through an imperceptible smile.

She doesn't know why she chose this name. Maybe it was those scarce visions appearing before her. Maybe it was because of this little voice in her head repeating the same name, again and again. Once it does pass her lips, it feels natural to her.

Her first love was free and an experiment, the second time was a punishment. She wouldn't allow herself to love a third time. Who knows what unfathomable thing would happen to her? She already lost her memories and it was already enough.

Ashe

🧨she isn't worried when she disappears, not one bit

🧨they are used to living apart, without any info about the others for months

🧨she starts to have her doubts when even members of her gang don't know where she is. She tells her crew to keep an eye out for any info they could gather about her

🧨she curses herself when they don't find her after intensive searches

🧨she'll keep up her job as the boss of the Deadlock gang but she is worried about her s/o, BOB can tell it and soon, the members of the gang notice it too

🧨She doesn't expect her at all, in front of her, stopping to pull out another heist

Ashe always has a backup plan. She always expects something to go wrong during her mission, that’s why she is prepared for everything and anything. Although this time, she has to admit nothing could prepare her for this situation.

"What's all this about?" She shouts to know what is causing so much trouble to her men. They shout over each other and it becomes a mess to understand what they are trying to say. At some point, she became used to this.

Shots are being fired and she hears the sirens of the police. She reloads her rifle, whistling to get the attention of BOB. She takes a bag filled with loot but drops it when someone shoots at it.

"Boss... we have a problem," one of them mutters and she rolls her eyes.

"No shit."

They are surrounded by police officers and if she could see clearly, even some Overwatch agents. What on Earth are they doing here? She restrains herself to spit at the face of an old comrade.

"Of course, I had to find you here," she spat out with animosity laced in every word. He shrugs smugly, puffing out a cloud of smoke from his cigar. No one is shooting yet, but they all know it'll start soon.

"Don't blame me, Ashe, just trying to figure out why on Earth she joined us." He points at something behind her and she tilts her head to look at it. Her eyes widen before they are filled with anger. She throws herself at her, ready to punch her but she avoids her blow easily. Cassidy stares at them for a moment before leaving them alone. He'd better help his friends.

"So there you were, hiding all this time and working with the law, I should've known you were just like him!" She aims, shooting at her. She takes cover and the rain of bullets starts. "BOB, shoot!" He wakes up from his slumber, attacking all of his targets one after another. Those who escaped the first round of bullets are hit by successive waves of bullets until BOB had to reload. Ashe lets him take care of them while she pursues her once lover and partner in crime.

She finally catches up with her, taking her down with a bullet in the leg. She tumbles to the ground, her weapon falling from her hand. She stomps on it, glaring at her with her teeth gritting each other. She didn't expect her to cry when she finally faces her.

"Now why would you traitor want to cry? I should be the one upset right now, you betrayed us!" She doesn't struggle, she just keeps crying uncontrollably.

"I-I don't even k-know you-" she lifts her by grabbing her collar, staring at her right in the eyes.

"Tell me this once again, in the eyes." She keeps her eyes on her, tears flowing freely on her face.

"I don’t know you! I don't know who you are, yet-" she brings a hand to her face to wipe them to get a clear look at her. "-yet why am I crying over a stranger? Why is my heart hurting me in the worst way possible? Why is it that my chest hurt so much when I look at you?" She drops her to the ground, examining everything about her. It hurts her to admit that she doesn't lie. What has she gone through to not remember a single thing about her? After everything they have been through. Their heists together, planning them in the dead of the night when no one else was awake besides the two of them, their love...

"I can't recall a thing, but those feelings... Why won't they go away?! I am supposed to hate you, you're breaking the law but- why is this sentence haunting me everywhere I go? Why can't I remember anything else but this: 'Don't work with the law and always punish betrayal'" She walks away, taking her rifle in her hands.

"And I will. You betrayed us, you betrayed the Deadlock Gang... You betrayed me. I'm not gonna let this slide." There is only one way to get rid of this feeling. She turns around, ready to aim before she changes her decision. Although the pool of blood on the ground makes her aware of things she hasn't acknowledged yet.

"What?" She coughed blood and following her instincts, she placed her hands on her wound and put some pressure on it. Ashe rushes to her side, feelings clashing with her logic. Her eyes quickly scan her surrounding, falling on B.O.B.

"Damn it..." The shot came from him but it's too late anyways.

"I'm sorry... I can't remember your face and the things that we went through. If I could- I know I'd be more than sorry-" "Shut it. You have no right to apologize after disappearing like that!" Tears are flooding from s/o's eyes, smiling apologetically while her consciousness slowly slips away.

"I know but I feel like apologizing for all the unknown hurt I've caused you... Sorry, Ashe, for everything." Ashe grips her by the collar.

"Don't you dare die on me like this s/o!" B.O.B comes in, scooping Ashe away as the police officers finally caught up to them.

"Shoot at them!!" Ashe struggles against B.O.B's grip but he carries her away from her once lover. The last thing she sees was s/o lying on the ground, bleeding to her death.

Moira

🧪Moira doesn't even notice in the first few weeks, being busy with her experiments and field research

🧪Sombra being her coworker do tell her her s/o has been missing for a few weeks

🧪She's not going to search for her intensively, rather, she'll ask Sombra do to the search for her

🧪When she comes back empty-handed, she knows she's not going to have much luck with her search as well

🧪So she gives up on the search but will look out for any pieces of information related to her s/o. She asks Sombra as well to be on the lookout

🧪When she comes face to face with her, it's a rather interesting conversation that ensues

Moira rarely leaves the talon base. Whenever she does, it's to gather data for her research or to pick up test subjects. So for her to be outside the base at this hour of the day, it's rather a curious decision. News of s/o has been spreading. Thanks to Sombra's research, she has been seen around Talon's base. With no memories of her life. Moira doesn't fully believe those rumours, but they couldn't have appeared out of nowhere.

She has a book with her, to read while she sits in a cafe. Her mind on her book while her eyes scan the people walking in front of her. She doesn't try to be discreet, she doesn't care about people's judgement. She flips another page of her book and she raises one of her eyebrows when someone approaches her.

"Oh! I read this book not long ago, someone recommended it to me but I can't recall their name. How are you founding it so far?"

"Fascinating. Truly fascinating..." she mutters to herself as s/o stands in front of her. Seemingly not recalling she's the one who recommended this book to her.

"Right? Ah- sorry, I hope I did not interrupt your reading." Moira observes her every move and words. Anything that could hint why s/o doesn't recognize her. Amnesia, brain tumor, dementia? What could possibly cause this sudden memory loss?

"Of course, not. It is always more entertaining to discuss a book with someone else rather alone. Take a seat. Let's discuss further."

"Oh, alright." As the discussion progresses, Moira notes some elements. S/o doesn't remember much. She lost most of her memories. She started to keep her memories one month ago. That coincides with when she disappeared. For the moment, it makes sense.

She still has to figure out why it happened. Or how. She doesn't want to rush this. After all, it'll be suspicious for her if she keeps insisting on knowing her past. She's willing to expand the time of her experiment if it means she's going to have an answer in the end. How fascinating, truly.

"Today has been interesting. Would you like to meet up again?"

#overwatch x reader #widowmaker x reader #ashe x reader #moira x reader #ow writing #asked and answered #amélie lacroix x reader #elizabeth caledonia x reader #moira o'deorain x reader #amélie x reader #elizabeth x reader #overwatch mix

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brbzonedout · 10 months

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Earth 42 Miles Headcanons/Observations??

-Before the death of his dad, Mr. Morales would take Miles on patrols and the occasional pursuit when something suddenly went down, and watching that he learned how cops operate so now he uses that information to avoid them while doing prowler work.

-I know some of y’all think he’s a hood nigga but in my mind, I just can’t see it all that much. Like yeah, he knows the streets very well he has no choice but to but, he's still Miles, and EVERY Miles is some form of a nerd and lowkey sensitive.

-Speaking of being a complete nerd every little nerdy black boy got their anime to start with Naruto so he's no different. He could probably also get behind death note because it's dramatic and suspenseful.

-He's not straight-up disrespectful. Although sometime the way he words things or his tone could come off as rude he doesn't necessarily mean for it to come out that way…usually. He was raised by a widowed single mom Rio Morales to be specific and just from her minimal screen time in both movies we know she doesn't play.

-But don't get it twisted if he has to pop a mfer in the mouth he will no doubt.

-I feel like he's into different music genres that somehow fall under the category of calm/chill ness(???). His life is chaotic and dramatic enough as it is so the things that he can control, he keeps chill. For instance, the song “Fantasy” by Bazzi seems like his vibe. (I'm not self-projecting I promise!!).

-Definitely feels like he has to grow up and be more mature than his peers due to all of his responsibility. I imagine one day he's just in his room thinking and contemplating life then looks around at how his room is decorated with toys, action figures, and old drawings.

-So he gathers it up getting ready to give everything away until Rio sees and stops him reminding Miles that even during all of this he’s still a kid and deserves to be able to enjoy life like one.

-With that being said, Mrs.Morales tries to get Miles to put himself out there again, asking him to join different clubs and things of the sort, and after a while, he finally lands on two robotics/computer club and baseball (I had to add this because of that one piece of fanart ITS SO GOOD). He even makes some acquaintances in these. Once he gets comfortable with speaking semi-freely people find him likable.

-I would love to say he joined the art club but I feel like he keeps his art private.

-He’s 100% a mamas’ boy but not a toxic weird incesty type, he just really loves her and looks up to the way she operates. The way she's able to hold herself together and support his needs and even Aarons’ if he needs it.

-He looks up to Aaron in the same way too just doesn't express it as much, not saying that he verbally expressed love all that much with Rio but they both know he loves them and accepts his nonchalantness knowing he's just scared to really express his feelings casually.

Ok that's it!! Thank you for reading I enjoyed making this and I do want to write more things so if y'all have any request feel free to submit!!<3

#into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miles molares #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales headcanons #earth 42 miles morales headcanons #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman accross the spiderverse #42 miles is my bf fr

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boliv-jenta · 1 year

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Nico x f!reader x OMC

Part of the Kitten series.

Warnings: swearing. Smut. P iv V sex. Male maturbation. Dirty thoughts. A little angst. Idiots in love.

WC:3.5k

Summary: Nico and Angelo find a new way of supporting you. Angelo introduces you to his boyfriend.

The Dinner Date

The sun had been up for hours. Your day would have usually started ages ago, yet you were still in bed. Head firmly beneath the covers, hoping whoever just knocked at your door would leave. A shadow passed your window before it started to slide open.

"What the…?!" The baseball bat you kept under your bed was aimed at the intruder as they poked their head in through the window.

"Lo siento. I didn't mean to scare you." Angelo smiled sweetly and fluttered his thick eyelashes before scrambling through your now open window like an uncoordinated cat.

"Angelo, why are you here?" You huffed climbing back into bed.

"I could ask you the same thing." He climbed on the bed spooning your cocooned form from behind.

"I'm done. I just…it's been a lot. I just need to be done with everything for a while."

"Oh, Cariño. Do you want some company?"

"Please."

Angelo's heart clenched at how small your voice sounded. He immediately kicked off his shoes and lifted the covers to cuddle you properly. When a little sob left you, he pulled you closer, as if he could hold back the tide of sorrow threatening to wash over you.

"I'm sorry." Shame rose on your cheeks. You were a grown woman, you should be able to deal with your own problems. Problems that you created for yourself. This was never part of your arrangement, yet you weren't strong enough to pull yourself from Angelo's arms.

The last three months had been one hit after another. Your husband had announced that he was leaving you for the overly flirty widow down the street. It turns out all those days he was on the road working, he was actually at her beach house. That would have been fine, it would have been a relief to be able to get out of your marriage. It was the way he went about it that was the problem. When he applied for divorce he blamed your cheating. He told your family you'd been spending your time with 'a couple of gays doing God knows what'. That got you cut off financially, despite the massive contribution your skills made to the family business. The house was only yours until the end of the month then your soon to be ex-husband was going to sell it for his half of the money.

Angelo had moved in with his boyfriend, Owen, so he was around less. Nico's walls slide back into place and some walls of your own went up. You didn't want him to see you broken, pathetic and lost. You'd only been over there a few times, during which you completely disassociated. Your body went through the motions while your mind was somewhere else.

"Hey. You don't have to be sorry. This is what friends are for." Angelo soothed.

Another layer of hurt. It was Robert's idea to move out here to the suburbs, in a city you had never lived in before. Your friends were on another coast. You had no one here. No one close anyway. Just Angelo and Nico. Two people that you didn't want to see you as your family saw you, weak.

Tears fell freely from your eyes now, the pillow below you was growing damper by the second.

Another knock on your door sounded.

"I'll see who it is." Angelo left before you could think of the consequences. It wasn't very likely that it was Robert at the door, plus he still had a key.

Angelo was on his way back as you made your way to the door. Nico was right behind him. Instinctively, you tried to wipe the tears from your face on your sleeve. For some reason, Nico seeing you in this state bothered you even more. As Angelo stepped closer he moved out of Nico's eyeline. Nico's face visibly fell when he saw you. An air of discomfort built. Being tender still wasn't his strong suit, and there you were in need of so much tenderness. Luckily, he had Angelo to step in.

"You can go take a long bath. Nico and I will cook lunch and take care of the house." He looked past you to the dishes piled in the sink.

"It's okay, I can do them." Embarrassment laced your tone.

"I didn't say you couldn't." Angelo ushered you off towards your ensuite.

After a bath, they sat you down at the table. Angelo had laid it, he'd even brought a few flowers in from the garden and set them in water in the middle of the table. Nico had cooked one of your favourites, his vegetable quesadillas with pico de gallo. After a bath and some food you felt more human.

Angelo kept the conversation going, dragging both you and Nico along. "I love your colour scheme. What do you think Nico?"

It was strange to think that neither one of them had set foot in your house before. You knew both these men, intimately, in ways you'd never know anyone before yet the didn't know what your home looked like.

"It's very..er..chic. Calming. I like the colour pallet" Nico replied. Some more pained, polite conversation followed until Angelo's phone rang.

"Hi, Bebé." Angelo positively glowed as he spoke to his boyfriend. It took all you had to to reach over, cradle his beautiful face and press kisses all over it.

The relationship you had with Angelo was kind of funny. If you took away the sex, he was like a best friend. The two of you spent time gossiping and joking. When you let him in, he was an amazing listener. He knew just the right thing to say. He'd often ask "Do you want answers or just someone to listen?" That single thoughtful phrase set him apart from the rest of the men in your life. Sometimes you just needed to rant about something to get it out of your system. You didn't need someone pointing out that you were over reacting. Or suggesting ways to deal with the problem that under your immediate flash of emotion you knew. It was just something you had to go through to make peace with the situation. He understood that.

It was one of the many reasons you adored him. The fact that he had a tongue like a whirlwind was also a bonus. His longer than average cock, that sparked electricity as it struck your cervix, was also a bonus. It was funny how you adored him, loved him even and he was near perfect, yet you weren't in love with him. Watching him happily finish his call, you wondered what it said about you that you hadn't fallen for him.

"Owen is here to pick me up. Are you ready to meet him?" It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you.

"Meet him? Now?" You self consciously touched your hair, that had been swept up into a bun hurriedly.

"Yes. You look beautiful as always." Gently, he pushed your arm back down. His hand ran down your arm to take your hand as the doorbell rang.

"We can't stop so you just can just say 'hi' for now. Hey, Babe." Angelo flung the door open to greet Owen.

"Hello, my love." Owen leaned down to kiss Angelo on the cheek. Turning to you he said your name before adding "I'm so glad to finally meet you. I heard so many things. All of them good."

"Really? Oh." A blush bloomed on your cheeks. "It's so nice to meet you too. I've heard lovely things about you too."

"I'm sure it was all very flattering. My Angelo has such a lovely outlook on life." Owen smiled, tucking Angelo into his side.

"Hi, Nico." Owen held up a well manicured hand adored with a couple of elegant rings, in a wave.

"Hi, Owen." Nico's arm settled around your waist as he joined you at the door. There was an odd energy in his actions. At first the move seemed like a protective gesture. As his fingers squeezed your hip, it seemed more like he was the one seeking protection in the comfort of your touch.

Nico's arm lingered until Angelo and Owen said their goodbyes. Owen left with a promise of you all having dinner soon.

"That's Owen?!" You gasped at the door shut.

Nico simply quirked an eyebrow at you in response.

"I mean, I know it's Owen. I just wasn't expecting….he's a little…not that there's anything wrong with… I just wasn't expecting...sorry. I sound super judgy." You rushed out breathlessly.

"You sound super confused, Sweetheart. What were you expecting?" They way his brow furrowed and his lips made a perfect little O made you want to kiss him. It'd been over two weeks since you had touched him. The thought broke free before you could cage it.

You crave him.

Turning from him to break the spell of your gaze, you muttered. "Someone more our age."

"Our age? We're all different ages." The amusement was apparent in his voice.

"You're trying to make me say it aren't you?" A grin of your own was audible.

"Maybe."

"Okay. I was expecting someone younger. He's like, what, twenty years older?"

"Twenty five."

"That's like a whole person older."

"Even if he was only a day older that could could count as a whole person older. Just a baby person older."

"What?"

The two of you burst out laughing. It was nice to be so happy in his company again. As the laughter subsided, you sunk into the sofa next to where he had taken a seat.

"How are you?" He eventually asked.

"I…I don't want to talk about it."

"What do you want to do?"

The answer was on your tongue as it slid against his. The two of you touched each other with a sense of urgency that had been missing for a long while. Unlike the usual urgency, born out of needing to satisfy an urge, this was something else. This was to fill a different need. You both needed each other. You needed to feel anything other than pressing sadness. He would never admit it but he needed you. He needed to be the man you brought out in him. The one that let himself feel. The one that wasn't terrified and only living half a life. He'd been that version of him, that night in the hotel. He'd held you in his arms. He'd entertained the thought of never letting you leave them.

Now, buried between your legs, he was convinced that's where he belonged. While he put all his energy into pleasing you, he didn't have enough to keep his walls up. The thoughts crept up on him. Thoughts of how he loved you. How he might even be in love with you, if he still thought himself capable. Maybe he could try, maybe he could learn by doing. He could fake it until he made it. Until he could love without any reservations again. The risk of losing you was too great for him to try. He could have you like this, and that was that.

"Oh, Nico!" Your nails scrapped against the silken cushions behind you as you clawed for purchase, trying to anchor yourself as your orgasm threatened to send you somewhere else completely. There was no where in the world you'd rather be than with Nico.

The phone on the end table rang. No one ever calls the landline.

"Shit. Sorry." You paused Nico in his motions as he chased his own end. "That might be important."

He lifted off of you as you reached back for the handset.

"Hello? Yes, speaking. Oh. That's a shame. Thank you anyway. Yes. Of course. Goodbye." Nico felt his erection wither as your face dropped. Before you, it would take a freight train hitting him to calm him down. Now he connected sex with more than just the physical again. His physical needs bowed to your emotion needs.

"Sorry. That was the apartment I was hoping to rent. They chose someone else. Who knew 'unemployed divorcee' wasn't a big selling point." You offered him a smile.

"What about the other apartments?"

"That was the last one."

"What will you do now?"

"I'll have to move back home. A friend of mine said I can stay with her until I find a job. Which might be longer than she realised because I'll have to drop out of college…."

"You can stay with me. I have room."

That was a stupid suggestion. Angelo was the only thing keeping you two on an even keel. With him around less, things were already weird. He was already shutting down. You weren't going to stay around just to fuck him. You were caring, funny, smart, beautiful. Now that you were single, someone who could give you what he couldn't would snap you up. His thoughts spiralled again. Thankfully, after years of having to remain detached with his patients, he could keep his thoughts from showing on his face.

"Are you sure? I mean it would help. I could finish college, get a job, I'd have enough from my half of the house for a deposit. It would help a lot."

If your smile got any bigger, Nico's heart would burst. He loved being the one to bring that smile to your face. Your brightest smiles were usually drawn out by Angelo, will all his sweetness.

"Sure. We'll get you moved over at the weekend." He sounded so nonchalant, he almost convinced himself it was no big deal.

The weight of how big a deal it was settled on his shoulders along with your arms as you squeezed him tight. "Thank you, Nico. Thank you so much." In your excitemen, you peppered kisses all over his face until you got to his lips. Without thinking, you captured them in a soft kiss. Neither of you made a move to deepen it. The two of you settled into each other's arms. The voice in your head told you to stop being stupid. Even if it warmed your heart, it was stupid to indulge your feelings. It would only lead to heartbreak for both of you. It wasn't fair for you to act on feelings that you weren't even sure about. Before the divorce, you felt like you were in flux. Living between who you were and who you wanted to be. You had no idea who you were now. Could you be someone Nico could fall for? Were you compatible beyond the odd dynamic you'd formed? He was teaching you how to take what you wanted in the bedroom. About the power you held. Skills that you were taking out of the bedroom. Could his support and care be extended beyond it, too?

There was an awkward silence when your lips parted. A silence that Nico broke just as awkwardly. "I better go."

"Oh, okay." Suddenly, you were painfully aware of the panties dangling from your ankle and the damp between your legs.

Nico was busy fastening doing up his fly. "I better get moving on getting your room ready, right? I have a whole chest of sex toys to find a home for. I'll see you later."

Nico felt how much of a brush off that sounded like. He was brushing you off but for his own broken reasons. It had nothing to do with you. To try and get that across he pressed a kiss to the top of your head that just seemed to make everything more awkward.

As always you provided a saving grace for him. "Maybe don't find new homes for all the sex toys? I really like the purple one."

As the kindness you threw him warmed his heart, the sun warmed his face when he stepped out of your house.

Angelo called around an hour later with an invitation for dinner. With Owen. A man that you knew little about. That apparently knew about you. Possibly that you cheated on your husband. Definitely that you were still having sex with his boyfriend. You did not want any part of that, but then Angelo peppered in some Spanish terms of endearment and pleas. The next thing you knew, you were picking out a dress.

After Nico settled on just dragging the chest into his room, his phone rang. After a brief, one sided discussion with Angelo he ended the call resisting the urge to throw his cellphone. Apparantly, you were all having dinner tonight.

Luckily, the chest was in here now. He needed to finish what he had started earlier, and there was no way he could face Owen frustrated. Stripping down, he rooted through the wooden box. He settled on a long, thin, curved toy. Laying spread out on the bed, he thought of you as he inserted the tip. The way you'd taken to pegging him with ease. The new found confidence you had in your ability to please him. His cock jumped in his hand as he hit that spot inside of him. Twisting the base the toy came to life, vibrating against his prostate. Between that and him steadily pumping his cock he was close in no time. He thought about what you might wear tonight. He also thought about fucking ruining it. Ripping it down so he could get his mouth on your fabulous tits. Ragging it up over your hips to devour your sweet cunt or bury his throbbing cock in it. Or just jerking his load all over your outfit, marking you for everyone to see. Claiming you as his. That thought had his balls tightening. He worked his hand as he thought of you beneath him, getting covered in his release rather than him splattering his own chest with it. The clarity that came with his orgasm was unwelcome. How was he going to live with you? He'd fucked this whole thing up even while not doing the things he thought would fuck it all up. Fuck.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet but not uncomfortable. Nico had offered to take you as he wouldn't be drinking tonight. That struck you as odd. Nico enjoyed a drink with his meals. You wonder if he had plans for tomorrow that he needs to keep a clear head for. You thought about asking but it seemed like prying. Wow, soon you'd know more about him without asking. You'd just be there to witness his day to day life. The thought thrilled you a little.

The restaurant had a classic feel with a modern twist. The decor was plush with clean, crisp lines. The smells from the kitchen were to die for. They twisted your stomach in a different way from the fear currently rooted there. Seeing Angelo so happy eased the fear a little. He was always so happy and relaxed in your company. This was different. This was love. It poured from him. It was reflected in his eyes when he looked at Owen. Owen clearly saw what you saw in Angelo yet he fell in love. You were happy for the two of them.

Greetings exchanged, you sat down for dinner. Owen was strikingly handsome. His soft grey beard complimented his sharp features. His hair was also grey. It was thick and brushed back from his face. He was tall and broad shouldered. He carried himself with such poise. His English accent was melodious to you. He was effortlessly charming. Smart. Articulate. Kind with his words. You could see how Angelo had fallen head over heels. For a moment, you thought about the arrangement between you, Nico, and Angelo. Nico and Owen both shared admiring glances. There was a palpable tension between them. It didn't seem hostile. It didn't feel like jealousy or envy. If anything, it felt like the moment before Nico switched in bed. When he snapped from obedient sub to a dom. The calm before the storm when the air crackled with the potential of raw, unbridled energy. If the tension was sexual, and Owen was open to arrangements like yours, you wondered why they hadn't come to one of their own.

As the night progressed, Nico's hands found their way to your body more and more. Not in a sexual way more like the comforting away he had reached for you earlier, when you first met Owen.

"....so that's why you should always observe trainee doctors from afar!" Owen had the whole table laughing with his story. Even Nico, who hadn't been steadily growing more tense as the night wore on, relaxed and laughed along.

"Is that how you met Angelo? You're a doctor too?" You asked, taking a sip of your wine.

Nico's shoulders tensed in your peripheral.

Owen took a sip of his own wine. Swallowing, he answered. "Sort of, we met at a talk. Again, sort of, I'm a psychiatrist."

Suddenly, you shared Nico's tension. "Oh."

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #nico house comes with a bird #nico x f!reader x omc #nico x f!reader

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cyanide-latte · 2 years

Text

Sunshine [A Fear Street drabble]

Written for Fear Street Appreciation Week 2022

Day 1 (June 26): Pre Canon or “Hide”

Originally posted to AO3 here (if you’re interested in my author’s notes, that’s where you’ll find them; please consider leaving a comment and kudos, even if you’re a guest!)

Rating: Teen (playing it safe)

Word count: 1717

Characters: Solomon Goode, Sarah Fier

Warnings: not a ship but hints at the beginning of fixation and obsession, hints of grief spiraling, Solomon is his own warning

At what point does change become something to taunt a man with? When is it that offers of hope and a better life ahead stop sounding like a promise and grow akin to mocking cruelty?

Your faith is lacking, Solomon, he chided himself automatically, but even that private admonition was beginning to ring hollow. What good had faith done his wife and child, now nothing more than marked, raised earth? Less good than even the widow Mary, who had at least tried to use her knowledge to save Cecelia after the babe died.

He rubbed at his face, pushing the heels of his palms against his eyes before his gaze could go to the graves not far from the front of the house. They were a month gone now, and he’d already wept plenty. Even had he been willing to listen to his brothers’ persistent belief that trying to tame the land here was a wasted effort, he could never leave now. Even if time ate him away to nothing, he would die in this house if he had his way, for it was death that bound him here.

Faith has given me nothing, he thought, not for the first time nor the last. And at this point hope is just something to throw in someone’s face for the chance of a cruel laugh at their hurt.

They’d come here because they wanted better things. Their fortunes were supposed to have improved, not worsened. They were going to live off the land, trade with their neighbors in the settlement, grow and build a home for their family for generations to come. And now…

Well, now it wasn’t likely that there would be any future generation of Goodes, not from him.

Dappled, gentle sunshine was lighting up the world outside. He watched out the window, unwilling to weep, but unable to shake the melancholy. The beauty of the day outside did nothing for the dull, dark-gray shadow that crept over his heart and mind. What was a man in pieces, that he could still walk and work and feel?

Should I give up? Perhaps my brothers have their wisdom as well…

“Solomon!”

He blinked, trying to shake himself out of his gloomy contemplation at the sound of the voice calling his name. How much time had passed? He should have gone out and at least begun the work by now. Instead another of these spells had come over him once more.

“Solomon!” the voice yelled again, its owner closer now as she approached the house. “Solomon Goode! Are you home?”

His legs were heavy, the weight like stones dragging at him and trying to hold him in place, but he pushed himself up to stand regardless. His eyes finally registered her now, walking carefully through the trees into the little clearing before the house, hauling a heavy, woven satchel near to overflowing with goods. Blinking, he forced himself into action, throwing the door open and half-stumbling out onto the threshold.

“What on this green Earth?” he said, looking agape as the young woman lugged the sack along, despite it being nearly the same size she was. “Did you bring me half the town in that, Sarah Fier?”

Her mouth twisted in a crooked smile that many people in Union found to be unladylike as she answered him, “Just about.”

The stones that made up his legs grew lighter and lighter with each step as he walked towards Sarah, reaching out his arms to take the burden from her. She accepted with a whooshing exhale of breath, her shoulders sagging once she was free of the sack.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully, moving her forearms up and down as she breathed hard a moment. “I’m amazed I got this far, it's so heavy.”

She wasn’t exaggerating; he lifted it easily enough, but he could tell from the weight that it was difficult enough to carry over the course of a long walk, and the path to his home from Union wasn’t the easiest to begin with. And since she’d come alone, he could only assume Sarah had had to stop and set the sack down more than once. She was far too stubborn a girl to have gone back and asked for help when she was determined to see something through.

“It’s I who should be thanking you,” he said, shifting the weight of the gift so he could turn back to the house. He looked at her and nodded. “You didn’t have to do this, Sarah.”

“Aye, but would you have come over to Union to get yourself any supplies, to trade anything, to see anyone?” she replied.

He pulled a face at that, turning his gaze away. “You must have woken early, to see right through me,” he remarked, trudging back to the open door.

“Wakin’ early has nothing to do with it,” Sarah replied, letting out a good-natured chuckle as she followed along behind him. “I can always see through you, Solomon. You make it so easy, you know.”

He crossed the threshold, walked a few paces, and set the sack down on the floor with a thud that rattled the boards beneath it as he shook his head.

“I suppose I must,” he said, managing a very small laugh in return. “I won’t lie, I have been hurting more than I should like anyone to know. Sometimes I wonder if being so alone out here doesn’t make missing them any worse. I feel their absence all around me, every day.”

He glanced to Sarah. She’d stopped in the door and now she was looking back over her shoulder at the small markers over the graves. Her expression slipped into a frown, and she was slow to return his gaze.

“Is it true?” she asked, and when he continued to stare, wondering what she was on about, she clarified. “The rumors that you took Cecy to the widow Mary.”

He inhaled deeply, pushing strands of his hair away from his face in a rough motion, then exhaled all at once. “It is true I took her to the widow to ask for her help once the child died,” he said, grabbing one of the chairs by the table and seating himself in it, motioning an offer for her to sit in one of the other chairs. “If there are rumors flying about Union, I don’t know of them or what they claim.”

Sarah took the other chair, watching him carefully.

“They speak of witchcraft,” Sarah answered. “Many of them think the widow cursed your wife instead of helping you, made her pass.”

He shook his head vigorously at that, agitation bubbling up like boiling water. “No,” he said. “I don’t know who is saying that, but I swear on both Cecy and the baby that the widow was only ever trying to help. She was the only one who had a chance at making a difference. The medicine she learned from the Shawnee was the best chance we had at saving Cecy.”

The tears were lingering there, behind his eyes. One moment they hadn’t been there, the next they were ready to fall if he wasn’t careful.

“But we were too late,” he said, voice thick as his throat threatened to close up on him. “Mary did what she could, but…” He inhaled, bitterness in his mouth, and shut his eyes, unwilling and unable to look at Sarah. “But I suppose my family were called home, weren’t they?”

“Solomon, I’m sorry,” Sarah said quietly. He could hear the thickness in her voice too; despite being several years younger, she had been good friends with Cecy, and to a degree himself as well. The Fiers and the Goodes had largely been on amicable terms, and when Solomon had wanted to build a home for his future family outside of the settlement, Sarah had remained one of the few who still happily ventured out to visit them. Often, Solomon had felt that Cecy adored Sarah as a younger sister, however wild and strange she was, and over time her visits had become commonplace.

And now… Well, now, she came around less. Not due to any desire to adhere to the way Union saw the outcast Goode, but because she had become essential to the Fier family household running smoothly, after the death of her mother. She’d been out a couple of times since Cecy died as well, many in Union had. But she was perhaps the only one outside of his brothers Solomon felt truly understood his loss and mourned with him.

He opened his eyes and looked at her again, saddened by the look of stricken hurt and compassion on her face. It warmed him, gave him something to feel better about.

She wasn’t like the rest of Union. She never had been. She didn’t attribute any sense of religious righteousness or doggerel to his loss; she simply knew it and felt it with him and shared in his mourning.

Sarah Fier would be wasted on Union’s people, wasted on any of the young men there who might seek to court her. They would try to tame her, break her like a spirited yearling.

Does she know that? he wondered, only to then immediately decide, Whether she does or doesn’t, I won’t let that happen to her. Whatever wildness burns in her mustn’t be snuffed out. It’s too beautiful to let suffocate and wither.

It was a strange thought to have. But then, was it, really? Sarah was growing into a woman. Perhaps her beauty was as different to Cecy’s as night was to day, but it was undeniable all the same.

“Thank you,” he said at last. “You’re a blessing and a gift to me, Sarah. Sometimes I don’t know how I’d go on without you coming around.”

She worked up a smile, her eyes still tender. “Oh, now, Solomon. I know you’d manage somehow! You’re grieving, but I still think you’d manage without me.”

“Kind of you to say,” he murmured.

Because the truth was, he wasn’t sure he would manage without her. Not anymore. He was succumbing to a slow, slow death in the dark, and Sarah Fier always brought the light with her wherever she went.

His entire being was starved for it.

#fsweek22 #fear street appreciation week #Netflix Fear Street #Fear Street film trilogy #fsweek22 day 1 writing prompt #my writing and fics #crossposted from AO3 #oneshot fic #Solomon Goode #Sarah Fier

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cathygeha · 4 months

Text

REVIEW

Nature of the Crime by Cara Devlin

Bow Street Duchess Mystery #6

Excellent addition to the series ~ Couldn’t put it down!

What I liked:

* Audrey: dowager duchess of Fournier, has been traveling in Europe for five months with her sister-in-law Cassie, in love with Hugh, enjoys solving mysteries, intelligent, impulsive, possesses paranormal psychometric abilities, is accused of a murder she did not commit, her life is in danger

* Hugh Marsden, Viscount Neath: ex-principal Bow Street officer, scandal in his past, good friend of Dr. Thornton, well-educated and eloquent, protective, intelligent, accepting, intriguing, in love with Audrey and plans to marry her when she is finished with the mourning period

* Sir: born with the name Davy Given, a young man from the streets befriended and employed by Hugh as his assistant, savvy, capable, resourceful, intelligent, growing up quickly, stays away from his abusive father

* Thornton: physician, Hugh’s friend, compassionate, capable, supportive, widow that loved his wife, intriguing, might be interested in Cassie * Cassie: Audrey’s sister-in-law, had a misfortunate situation to deal with in a previous book that has left her less than willing to trust men, looking forward to seeing what her future holds in store for her, she may be interested in Thornton

* The mystery of who actually killed three men and how it tied into previous books in the series

* The romance developing between Audrey’s lady’s maid and her driver

* The plot, pacing, setting, and writing

* That all the threads of the story were tied up neatly by the end of the book

* Looking forward to the next and possibly final book in the series that will be published later this year

What I didn’t like: * Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about how evil and selfish the bad guys were

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Definitely

Thank you to BookSirens and the author for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

The Bow Street Duchess Mystery series continues in January 2024 with the sixth Audrey Sinclair and Hugh Marsden investigation... When a fellow passenger is found dead on Audrey’s packet ship from France, a mysterious note on the body points to her as the killer. Detained in Dover for an inquest that is being led by a prejudiced magistrate, she is joined by trusted friends and family—and the newly minted viscount, Hugh Marsden—to prove her innocence. But when it’s discovered the murdered man was a private inquiry agent, hired to follow the duchess while she traveled the Continent, they enter a race to find out who hired him and why—and what secrets the true killer intends to expose before sending Audrey to an early grave.

#Cara Devlin #Bow Street Duchess 6 #BookSirens #Historical fiction #Mystery #Murder #Crime #romance

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moniify · 1 year

Text

Perception Of Time

The clock on the wall keeps ticking, it's the only sound in the one-room apartment she lives in, alone, by herself.

One day, a day that is as nondescript as any other day, she sits at the table to have dinner.

Suddenly, as the memory of her beloved one, who left her as a widow, brings her his scent back, she forgets the smell of the apple pie. Forgets to eat.

The clock ticks.

And where could the same two people who brought her into this world and used to be responsible for her life now live? The same ones who left her feeling like an abandoned child?

Tick.

She gets up and decides to leave the living-dining room but when she walks past the mirrored book shelf, she stops.

The mirror reflects her light-rounded body with saggy skin on the stomach – one that is empty with no fruit inside that could grow into another human being. She can see the stomach because she has pulled her sweater up just far enough.

Tick.

Abruptly she takes down the on-going clock from the wall in impulsivity, in an anger that gives her whole body a hot rush. She lets it drop to the floor where it shatters.

And although the clock can not disturb her anymore, she still follows the hands of the clock passing by before her inner eye. She sees them in a blurry world, where time still passes, but so slowly.

The woman walks down the same street every single Sunday.

Every single Sunday she would buy baked goods from the bakery. And newspapers from the gas station.

Each time she walks back, she would per usual meet the same old, nice woman, seated on a bench.

'You have got news for me yet?', so the elder woman.

'Yes!', so the woman proceeds to share the news of the front page.

The next Sunday the woman walks down the same street again.

She buys baked goods from the bakery. And newspapers from the gas station.

'You have got news for me yet?', so the elder woman.

'Yes!', so the woman proceeds to share the news of the front page.

The next Sunday the woman walks down the same street again.

She buys baked goods from the bakery. And newspapers from the gas station.

'You have got news for me yet?', so the elder woman.

'Yes!', so the woman proceeds to share the news of the front page.

When she finishes, a silence spreads out.

Perhaps, she thinks, the elder woman would find a different topic more interesting.

When she starts again, the elder woman stops her: 'O dearest, this world will have news to offer every single day. After all the hours we have spent together, I still don't know a gem about you.'

Then a silence spreads out again.

The next Sunday the woman walks down the same street again.

She buys baked goods from the bakery.

'You have got news for me yet?', so the elder woman.

Then the woman, for the first time in their previous history, says 'No'.

So they stay silent together.

One day the old, nice woman wasn't to be found on the bench anymore. Sometimes the woman still sat on the bench, thinking: 'What in my life is worth sharing?'.

One day, she took a chair to the bedroom window and sat by the window to watch cars drive by quickly. Who knew, if it had been the 31st or 53rd one already ... They just kept passing.

Something was passing, that was good.

One day, she filled the kitchen sink with water to the brim. Then she pulled the plug from the kitchen sink and watched the water flow down the drain, also quickly. What else could she do to make herself forget about time?

One day -

#short story #original art #black literature

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christinebloodwrittings · 2 years

Note

Hi again my amazing mutual ❤️✨️ May I request a story with Loki and a female y/n who is a werecat, a werepanther to be precise. Loki has a fascination with cats (he is 1000% a cat person) he's always attempting to make y/n purr or exhibit other cat like behaviors. And he knew she was a werecat but he though she was a domestic cat and is quite suprised to find out she's a panther. Idk I just think his shock would be very funny!!

You ask I write! Thank you so much honey 💖

Another Loki x beast! Are we having a phase?

*My requests are open*

Pairing: Loki x Fem!PantherReader

Summary: Loki's fascination for cats only grows when he meets the new member of the Avengers, a werecat named Y/n.

Warnings: (Again, it's not bestiality!) Fluff.

Loki taglist: @lokisprettygirl22 @lucky-foxface @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @high-functioning-lokipath @thereadinggeek @el-zef @apine7 @beakami @lokiprompts @llaufeysondggerxx @ilovefanfictions

Kitten

Loki has been obsessed with cats ever since he got to meet them on earth. He found a stray on the street, a black cat with green eyes meowing for food or attention. He made sure no one was looking then he knelt down and gave the little animal a piece of the kebab he got at the market.

It meowed and emitted a vibration unknowingly pleasant to him, that’s how he fell for cats.

Often, he would sneak back from a walk with two to three cats hidden in his coat, to later play with inside his room. He loved the softness of the fur, the purrs they emitted when he petted them, their tiny meowing, even the biting, although mostly were playful bites, they didn’t hurt at all. He was in love with those little animals.

One day, he had come back from a cat café, those places where you can enjoy a cup of coffee and play with cats, smelling like catnip. As he was… well, he, the waitress had put some catnip in his hands so that the cats would purr around him, -he was very happy when they actually started to purr- he had a great time.

However, when he returned to the tower, the common room was in chaos. It was not uncommon for it to happen, but there was never a black panther loose in the room.

"Loki! Brother help us!" Thor was on the dining room table while the panther looked at him as if he was going to eat him, "What the hell is that thing doing here?" he whispered to Stark, he was behind a plant. "The panther is an agent, it happens that she loses control sometimes" the panther roared taking into account Loki's presence, coincidentally the elevator doors closed behind him, leaving him with no escape.

The animal prepared to pounce on him, Loki already had a spell in mind, however in a quick turn of events the animal got close enough to his hands, and cautiously began to sniff, his pupils widened and like any other cat, it began to purr.

The stunned agents came out of their hiding places, dumbstruck watching the animal rubbing its head against Loki’s hands, “How?!” Barton loosened the cable that held him and Widow to the ceiling, “I have a way with animals it seems” he pretended to show off his talents, but he really had no idea what he was doing, much less what was going on.

“Well, stay with her until she transforms back, Dolittle” Stark left with a wink, “Were you seriously on top of the table?” Loki laughed at Thor, “Barton was on the ceiling” his smile fell and pointed with his finger at the archer, that made the trickster laugh, “You’re unbelievable, scared of an overly grown cat” he scoffed as he lead the panther to his room.

“Ok, just don’t eat my friends” the panther meowed in response, jumping on top of his bed and stretched, “Great, yes do that and scratch my bed while you’re at it, fantastic” he grumbled under his breath, “An agent that can turn herself into a cat, I saw it all now” Loki sat down on a puffy couch he had by the window.

Now that he remembered, you had the same ability. Only, he had only seen your ears and tail pop up, oh how he wanted to touch them, they looked so fluffy and soft, but never really asked because he really becomes a shy mess around you.

The panther stirred and groaned, perhaps out of tiredness, suddenly the shape of the animal shifted to a seemingly human one, "Ugh my head!" That voice, the god was far too stunned to speak. It was you.

"Y/N?!" You turned around groggily, blinking several times before getting a clear image, "Loki? Hi" your face adopted it's original shape and aspect, same to the color of your eyes and the shape of your pupils.

"You're a panther?" He said more like stating a fact, but still asking just to be sure, "Yeah, I know it's s... but you had seen my ears before, how come you didn't picked up on that?" he turned his head down to look around him, "I thought you turned into a cat, like this one" he scooped up Sammy, a black cat with white paws, it almost made you laugh.

"Oh, well now you know" you let out a nervous laugh, "Uhm, would it be too much of me to ask you to help me to my room? I can barely see" seeing you all sheepish around him made his hands stop shaking, "You can rest here, I have kittens" he handed you one of the littlest ones.

"Thank you, but I need my medication, soon the muscular pain is going to kick in and it will hurt" you tried to stand up through your knees being unresponsive, so moving wasn’t a good idea, he saw that. Moving next to you, Loki spoke, "Really? How much?" he seemed concerned, but he made it sound as if he was curious, partially true though; "Like I'm being burned alive" he caressed your hand, he had never done that, following your instinct you remained still, watching attentively all his movements.

"How does it look like? I'll get it for you" he didn't want to seem desperate, but your ears were showing and he thought there wasn’t going to be a better opportunity to ask you in the future. “It’s on my nightstand, it’s in a purple makeup bag” his hands glowed green for a second, materializing your purple bag.

“Awesome!” you gasped in awe, but as you were going to grab the bag, he put it behind his back, “I have a request” confused was an understatement, but you were intrigued too, “May I touch your ears?” while fighting a smile you tilted your head towards him, your ears twitching in anticipation.

His cold fingers reached your ears almost in the blink of an eye, the cold sensation sending electric chills down your spine. Then from the tip of your ears, she went down to the base, she had so much fun playing with how soft she was, until one of her hands cupped your face.

He had the sweetest smile, like a little boy petting a kitten, "You're so soft" came out of him unintentionally, but with such fascination that it was impossible to ignore. "Thank you" he heard your voice and the smile on his face vanished, instead a blush settled on his face.

“I-I…Uhm, I’m sorry, it…I just- I mean, words, right?” he trailed off, backing off while dying of embarrassment weirdly was a very cute look on him, it impulse you to stand up from the bed to plant a kiss on his cheek, “May I have my meds now?” Loki smiled still feeling your lips on his skin, he took advantage of the closeness he had with you to appreciate how beautiful your eyes are before answering.

"Of course" he made your medications appear in his hands, your opportunity to take the pills and his hand in the way, "Pleasure to make business with you Lokes” you brought up his hand to your face and slowly had his knuckles caress your cheek, bringing him closer and closer to a red blush panic, “By the way, next time you want to touch them” you cupped his cheek with one hand gently to keep him in place, then placed a kiss on his cheek again, this time adding a little pressure and making it longer, “Just ask” you finished with a smile and a wink as you made your way out of his room.

His knees collapsed after you left, the soft texture of your fur and his…you kissed him. Your relationship with Loki wasn’t really based on many long conversations, but in battle he knew you got his back covered. Your instincts were strong, and around him, you felt like there was no threat, like you could trust him, which allowed you to hang out in common places when he’s there.

But that was before he had your ears between his hands, one of your most sensitive areas, it felt disgusting with others, but oddly enough, not with him.

After a mission you found out you could turn into a smaller version of a panther, so as soon as you came back you jumped on his lap, knocking off the book on his hands, “Y/n? you are small” he swore he saw you wink as you settle on his legs, “I kinda want to see you Y/n, although this from is killing me, you’re so adorable” you changed back, still sitting on his lap with your arms around his neck, “Better?” you smirked while watching his cute blush grow.

“Yes. The mission went well?” his hands went to your hips to have you closer, “I’m a bit bruised, but I´m fine now” your smile grew taking notice of how his hands were placed, “Any chance I can take you to my room for a movie while I tend to your bruises?” he had been rehearsing that all day waiting for you, “In exchange of what, mischief?” “In exchange of petting you and pampering you…kitten” your eyes lit up, taking on an amber color and the pupils sharp as his daggers, “Call me kitten again mischief and I may play a trick on you” you weren’t threatening him, any cat owner could see you were just being playful, but as a wild bigger kind of cat it was hard to know. “I´m eager to see that” he smiled, getting closer to your ear, “Kitten” oh now it was on.

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writingintheshadowsforever · 2 years

Text

Natasha x Reader Magic part 4

Summary: You and Natasha start growing closer to each other

Your loft was trashed and what pissed you off the most about it being trashed was that. Nothing significant was missing which meant the intention wasn't robbery but intimidation. You knew exactly who was responsible for this it didn't take rocket science to figure out. It was the hunters who probably checked here after they lost you at the hotel. It was probably the old man's idea to destroy your place just so you would know that they were here, and knew exactly where you lived at.

You rushed to the bedroom to check your wardrobe which was filled with all your magician clothes, and it was black and charred when your eyes landed on it. Your nostrils flared and your eyes started glowing blue for just a second. But before your anger could take control your cellphone started vibrating in your pocket. You pulled out to see it was Natasha.

"Are you going to tell me where the show will be located today or what"

"Don't make me have to come and find you again ;).

You could almost hear the teasing tone in her texts, and it made you blush. You typed a quick reply telling her what street the show would be on today, and decided that it was best to just salvage what you could from this mess. And leave before the hunters did a checkup you wouldn't be surprised if the loft was bugged. You would have to stay in a hotel for the time being, until you could find a more secure place to live at.

Part of you wanted to ditch the show today, and go find those stupid hunters and deal with them for good. If your mother was here that's exactly what she would've encouraged you to do. Either that or just leave town and start a new life somewhere else. But that wasn't an option it took years to build the life you had here in New York, and no one was able to make you leave it behind. You would go down fighting before you let that happen. Which is why you decided to do the show today to show them that you weren't afraid.

Your eyes lit up with joy when Natasha came into view. The show would be starting in just a few minutes, and you were afraid that she wasn't coming. "What took you so long? I thought you weren't going to show." You told holding out your hand to her.

"I had a few things to take care but I wouldn't miss this for anything." Natasha replied taking your hand and letting you pull up onto the platform. There was a medium size crowd gathered around, and some of them started watching the two of you. This was the first time you interacted with someone before the show. While she was use to crowds the attention was a bit worrisome. Somehow you had yet to figure out her true identity, and she wanted to keep it that way for a bit longer. But if someone in the crowd noticed the Black Widow, and called out to her. Then her whole cover would be blown which is what made her turn her face away from the people.

You thought it was cute how she didn't like the attention, and brought your hand up to gently grab her chin. You turned her face back to yours giving her a small smile. "Hey its okay they don't bite I promise, and no I don't have any crazy obsessed fans yet." You said pausing for a bit before finishing. "Except you of course, and no one would be crazy enough to try to compete with you beautiful."

That last comment earned you a good smack to the shoulder making you burst out into laughter. As she went to walk away but you caught her by the waist wrapping both of your arms around her. "I was just kidding geez don't take it personal. Now how about we do something that's been on both of our minds since our eyes locked." You whispered caressing her cheek with a look of longing.

Natasha watched as your eyes closed, and she went in for the kiss but paused. Her lips were hovering over yours just a few inches away from connecting. You frowned trying to close the distance but her hand caught you by the chin. In a tight grip an evil smirk on her face as she put her lips to your ear. "If it's a kiss that you want sweetheart you're going to have to earn it impress me."

Your eyes flew open as you groaned when she managed to break free of your hold. Natasha hopped off the platform and went to take her place at the back of the crowd. She cocked an eyebrow at you daring you to take her up on the challenge. You nodded your head in return before turning away, and throwing on your hat. "Alright all my ladies and gents it's time for the show to begin." You announced throwing your hands to sky an explosion of red sparkles appearing. The crowd started cheering and clapping.

The show went on for quite a while with throwing out some outrageous tricks. Some that were more risky than others you didn't hold back anything this time. Being fueled by your wanting to impress the redhead in the crowd, and your need to show the hunters who had to be watching somewhere. How unafraid you was of their presence, and if they wanted you they could come and get you. When it was all over some people could only stand in awe, and some people clapped harder than ever before. You ended the show by disappearing into a tornado of red sparrows. The flock flying off into the sky once you were gone. Natasha was looking around a bit frantic trying to see where you off to. She cursed herself for believing that you would actually stick around this time.

You let out a light chuckle reappearing right behind her. She swung around her reflexes kicking in when you wrapped an arm around her from behind. Her fist almost slammed into your face but you were able to move your head away just in time. "Relax its just me let's get out of here" You whispered grabbing her arm to bring it down. The tension left her body as she fixed you with a soft glare but wrapped her arms around your neck. With a look of mischief in your eyes the two of vanished into thin air.

You brought her to an secluded rooftop that overlooked the entire city. A blanket was spread out along with a picnic basket the noon was just starting to turn into evening. "Wow I'm guessing you watch a lot of romance movies, or read the novels." Natasha said letting out a low whistle at the view.

"No I don't really have the time I'm just that good" You replied laying down on the blanket.

"Well you're going to have to take me back to my car." She reminded you walking over to sit down beside you stretching her legs out tangling them with yours.

"No problem Nat just lay with me for a while though. I want to rest for a bit after that." You murmured turning onto your side using your arm as a pillow. With a frown you used the last bit of your strength to conjure up a pillow big enough for two. Natasha let out a small laugh watching your eyes close. "Did you wear yourself out trying to impress me?"

You let out a hum reaching out to grab her arm, and tug her till she laid down beside you. Your hand was resting on her stomach "did I succeed?" were your last words before you fell into a peaceful slumber.

"You succeeded the second I locked eyes on you y/n" she whispered pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Three Hours Later

Natasha let you have your power nap before waking you up just as the sun was going down. You watched it with her munching on the snacks in the basket. Then it was time to take her back to her car. Her legs were a bit wobbly when the two of you reappeared on the now dark and empty street. She stumbled trying to walk to her car, but your hands were on her waist to steady her. "Sorry the teleporting can take sometime to get use too."

"Why don't you have a flying broom like in the story?"

You raised an eyebrow at her with a smirk. "Because it's cliche I refuse to indulge" the mischief in your voice told her you were up to no good.

"Y/N no don't you dare I sw- her protest was cut off as you pulled her body back against yours. She tried to flee but your hold was too tight, and she didn't want to hurt you. You teleported her inside of her car chuckling as she fell back against the driver's seat breathing hard. "I should leave you on the side of the street for that" she panted.

"What are you talking about?" You asked with grin.

Natasha had finally recovered fully and sat up pushing the start button. The car revved to life "I'm taking you home it's the least I could do."

"Aww there's no need for that and you know it." In all honesty you wouldn't have minded letting her take you home. If you were still currently living there, but you didn't want to tell her the truth. Because she would worry about you, and start asking more questions.

"No way you're letting me take you home, and you're going to deal with my crazy driving. Since I dealt with your crazy teleporting now what's your address?"

"Nat seriously it's okay we can go for a drive if you want your payback. But I can take myself home" You said a bit more serious this time looking out the window.

The seriousness didn't faze her bit as she turned too look at you. She already knew what was wrong considering the stuff she had to take care of early was checking out your loft. After you finally left and she knew by the sight of it you had lied to her about. The drugging being some random incident and that you were in serious danger. The avenger in her was saying it was time to drop the charade, and bring you in. But this whatever it was that the two of had was real, and she wasn't ready to lose you yet. But she still had to keep an close eye on you.

"Y/N what's wrong I can tell you're hiding something" Nat demanded. Placing a her hand on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze.

You turned back to look at her the lie rolling off your tongue smoothly. "I got kicked out this morning because of some damage a new spell I was working on caused."

Natasha knew it was a lie but accepted it. One day you would be honest with her until then she could protect you. "Fine you can just crash with me for tonight then." Holding up her hand as you opened your mouth to protest. "Its not a big deal you've already spent the night before okay." You settled back against the settle muttering a "thank you."

"No problem now put on your seatbelt Maltida you're going to need it." She ordered barely giving you time to get it on before speeding off.

Her driving was indeed crazy and even though the ride to her apartment was short. It still took a toll on you with all the sharp turns and abrupt stops. You weren't use to being in a car considering you used your magic to get around most of the time. Multiple times you tried to plead for her to slow down, and just let you out. But she just gave you a teasing smirk and did something else to make you pay. "I'm never getting in a car with you again." You groaned stepping out of the car holding your stomach.

"Hey you were the one who said I could get payback" Natasha insisted. Walking around to wrap an arm around your waist and began guiding you to the entrance.

"I didn't say kill me while you do it."

"Hey you're still breathing" she laughed

"Barely beautiful but vengeful" You shot back.

Once the two of you were finally in her apartment you laid down on the same couch. From your last visit and rested there taking in your surroundings while she rummaged around. Getting some blankets and pillows together she would've asked if you wanted the bed. But you already looked so comfortable on the couch, and after what she put you through with the drive. She figured that you really didn't want to move at all right now. Once she returned to the living room she was surprised to find you gone off the couch. Panic seized her for just a moment until your voice appeared on the other side of the room.

"Your flowers are pretty but why haven't they bloomed?"

Natasha threw the blankets and pillows on the couch. "I don't know I think its a season thing. A florist insisted they would be worth the wait when I got them like a two months ago. It's mostly for decoration but I wish I could speed the process up."

You grew real quiet as she walked up behind you wrapping her around you, and resting her chin on your shoulder. She watched as your hand glowed green and hovered over the green stems of the flower. Your eyes were closed and you whispered a single word she didn't understand. But a second later pink flowers were fully blossoming everywhere.

You opened your eyes and turned too look her in the eyes. "Is that better." Her face softened and before she knew what she was doing her lips were on yours. Your eyes widened in surprised but it didn't take you long to kiss her back. Your lips moving in sync with hers as you turned around in her arms. Nat tightened her arms on your waist bringing your body to closer to hers. Your hands came to cup her cheeks as the two of you continued to the soft kiss that was turning into a make-out session.

You pulled away first pressing your forehead up against her's. "After everything I did today it was making a flower blossom that impressed you."

She let out a small laugh kissing the side of your mouth. "It was a sweet gesture everything else was just you showing off.

You laughed before the look in your eyes darkened. It was too bad she was too caught up in the moment to notice. You teleported her to the couch with you managing to push her back, and pin her down. As she let out a cry of frustration "seriously y/n I'm going to kill you." You let out a squeal as she pulled a hand free and her fingers dug into your side. She wrestled you off of her and after tickling you to death. Until you apologized and promised not to do it again without warning her first. Natasha ended up sleeping in the living room with you on the couch across from you. At your insistence that you were a wild sleeper, and it wouldn't be fun to share such a tiny space with you. It didn't matter to her though because you were close enough for her to see you, and keep you safe.

Taglist: @wandanatvoid @yelenabelovasgf @romanoffomixam @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @xxromanoffxx @emril-osvigne @catswag22

#marvel imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha imagine #natasha romanoff

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melis-writes · 2 years

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Moth to Flame [Michael Corleone x Reader series, 18+ Smut] Excerpt Edition!

Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

[AUTHOR’S NOTE]: Happy Valentine's Day 2022, everyone!! 🤗 To all of my beloved followers and mutuals, I hope you have an incredible day! As a special treat, I'm releasing all of the excerpts/rough draft snippets I've had for our fan favourite "Moth to Flame!" ❤ As you all know, I'm working on a Bobby Axel (The Panic in Needle Park) x Reader multichapter fic at the moment, but once you go to "Moth to Flame", your heart is kind of ensnared there forever! 😅🙏🏻 These pieces did not make the final cuts of chapters, whether I didn't like the content, thought it was unnecessary, or came up with something better. Still, I'd love to share it with you guys for those wanting a sneak peek of the rough drafts as I was still writing the fic! 🥰

[WHAT'S MENTIONED IN THE SNIPPETS?]:

1️⃣ - Some mentions of Alphonse Ricci.

2️⃣ - Our favourite gal (😂) Rita Duvall formally meeting Victoria which never happened in the fic.

3️⃣ - A brief conversation Michael has with Victoria about Don Ferrari.

4️⃣ - A descriptive piece from the chapter "Aphrodisiac" 👀.

5️⃣❗ - SPECIAL: A MAJOR plot-twist and backstory of Victoria and Alphonse Ricci that may or may not be able to heavily impact her marriage with Michael I completely scrapped!

1949. Your name is Victoria Ferrari, and you’re the only daughter of one of the most powerful mafia families in New York—the Ferrari’s. When the Ferrari family began to gain heavy influence and power, it struck a power imbalance with the Corleone’s. To bind the families together as one in an offering of peace, friendship and business, you are to be married to their youngest son, Michael Corleone. As you ensnare yourself in the life of a mob wife by Michael’s side, what you don’t know is his old ties with Kay Adams, your best friend from Dartmouth, and that he returned from Sicily a widower. A ruthless mob boss to be, you unravel Michael’s dark past and the brutality that has changed his personality. You find yourself adapting to your new life, betrayed by those you love most, and in high profile to Ferrari and Corleone family enemies. Falling deeply in love with Michael, you enter a life and marriage filled with secrets and darkness. Bearing his children, supporting his crime empire and following him into the shadows, you’re unable to deny your passion and desire to the new Don. When it comes to Michael Corleone, you are but a moth to a flame.

[ Excerpt 1 ]

Hunted down like animals one by one, Michael Corleone had tracked down each and every one of Don Alphonse Ricci’s men that had been at Antonio Ricci’s trial, adding their bodies to the streets with that of the hired photographer and chauffeur. Two shots to the head, Corleone-style corpses, sending out a clear message to the increasingly weak Don struggling to maintain legitimacy and power in front of the other families.

Don Alphonse had been growing frustrated with each and every failure his men had caused him. Having influence over street hoodlums and petty criminals looking to make quick money rather than solid, mafia-style commitments like his father had hold over decades ago.

One fuck up away from becoming nothing but a whisper in the wind, Don Ricci still clung onto the idea of using words before force, simply because you were involved. Desperate in a way to maintain his criminal enterprises and presence, if he was just able to avenge his father’s long time business partner, Virgil Sollozzo, he could have his foot in the door to the narcotics trade, taking the Corleone’s out of the equation while maintaining a hold over the Ferrari’s.

Seeing it as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, Don Alphonse Ricci’s plan to rise back to the old glory of his family seemed feasible and straightforward to get to, as long as he could provoke Michael Corleone in a way that would catch his attention, and not result in him immediately being found and killed.

Getting to you was a perfect way. He could secure a Ferrari wife, have a hold over Michael’s unborn children, and rise to the notoriety that the six families never would have seen coming. One specific rule remains unchanged—not to hurt you. Wanting you alive and unharmed, Alphonse knows he’d be a dead man if he tried to arrange a meeting with Michael Corleone at this point. But a Ferrari daughter unengaged in mafia business would be the perfect pinpoint for a hefty ultimatum to be made.

Failing to even get a decent photograph of you by the villa, Alphonse’s men were able to tell him exactly what he was hoping to hear—your visible pregnancy. His bodyguard had delivered the news just as his men went missing, gesturing to his face and explaining the bruising over your cheek.

Refusing to believe Michael would have done it to you, Alphonse’s righthand man uses Carlo Rizzi’s broken nose and badly gashed injuries as an example of Michael’s strength, having heard Carlo complain and profess it loudly in a bar with a prostitute the other night.

Don Ricci’s plan was settled once again. He wouldn’t have you remain a widow for long after Michael’s assassination, believing your father would have no choice but give your hand to him and a slice of the narcotics profit.

“She’s a Sicilian beauty, alright. That damned Michael Corleone has it all. The support of both families, the legitimacy, the men on his payroll. We won’t be able to pull a crumb of his attention without getting to his wife first.”

[ Excerpt 2 ]

“Victoria, look whose been trying to find you all evening!” You hear Sandra’s voice ring in from behind.

You turn around with a small, delighted gasp to find her escorting an esteemed guest and colleague of yours from Dartmouth—Tillie Matilda. Tillie had graduated from Dartmouth in 1941 alongside you and Kay with a business degree, and as Kay went off to become a schoolteacher, Tillie and you only grew closer as the two of you pursued graduate degrees together.

In law while she chose to do a master’s degree, campus was a little less lonely with her by your side. With your graduating and passing of the bar exam, Tilly became a professor at Dartmouth only to marry one of it’s wealthiest benefactors—retiring early as an entrepreneur and world traveller.

Due to the nature of both of your lives and her demanding social life with her husband, you were only able to keep some contact with her through letters, holidays and formal events—such as tonight. Naturally, one of the first invitations you sent out to your contacts was for Tilly and her husband to join your family in celebration of five years spent at Lake Tahoe.

Tillie had briefly met the Corleone girls after you married Michael and spent much more time at public events, but this time, it wasn’t just Sandra escorting Tillie alone; she remains next to an unfamiliar, brunette woman whose gaze appears to be insistently over Fredo.

“Tillie!” You exclaim out, pulling her into a hug as the two of you share a soft laugh.

“Victoria, there you are! So good to see you and the girls again! Oh, I thought I may have lost you in the crowd already but Sandra pulled me out!”

“And there’s someone I’d like you to meet, Victoria.” Deanna chimes in, gesturing to the unfamiliar woman by Tilly’s side. “An associate of Senator Geary’s. This is Rita Duvall, from Las Vegas herself!”

Rita Duvall is both an unfamiliar name and face to you. Unsurprised Deanna would have such contacts as she’s in the Hollywood show business herself, Rita doesn’t quite fit the picture for what you expected an “associate” of a US senator to look like.

Dressed in a rather flashy and provocative cocktail dress dipping down to expose her cleavage that wouldn’t surprise you if it was over Deanna, Rita’s body posture remains alluring and almost seductive in the way she carries herself. Her hair is curled in a tight updo with a full face covered in makeup as if she had come along to a party, but entered the wrong one.

“Hello, Miss Ferrari.” Rita smiles back at you coyly.

“Corleone.” You correct, noticing from the side that Fredo has seen her and moved to the other side of the table almost immediately.

“Corleone?” She raises a brow, looking at you as if you just told her a joke.

Connie purses her lips, and you can already tell by her expression she’s not fond of Senator Geary’s choice of an extra guest to bring along.

Picking up on the awkward air between you two, Tilly clears her throat and continues for the sake of introductions. “She and I met earlier this evening as well. Rita?”

“You may have heard of me from Moe Greene.” Rita adds as if you’re supposed to know her. She extends a hand out for you to shake. “I spent many years alongside him in the show business in Vegas.”

“Ah…” She’s a cocktail waitress. You shake her hand back loosely, unimpressed. Now it makes sense as to why Senator Geary has her alongside him, and it more than explains her eager gazes over at Fredo.

“Got a little friend over there you want to introduce us too?” Sonny grins back at Fredo, nudging his arm.

“Who is she anyway?” Tom briefly takes a glance back at Rita.

“Ah, just one of Moe Greene’s old girls from the resort, before Mikey bought it out.” Fredo brushes Sonny off, taking a seat and avoiding looking over at Rita at all costs. “A cocktail waitress, an escort—she did some work as a showgirl when I met her.”

“Was she one of the cocktail waitresses you were ‘banging two at a time’?” Sonny holds back his laughter as Tom shakes his head back in disapproval at the joke.

“Uh.” Fredo chuckles nervously, only fueling the fit of laughter Sonny now breaks into.

“Oh, okay, I get it! You’re the man, Fredo! Yeah, Tom, see—I knew he could still get it!”

“But of course, after the Corleone’s bought out Moe’s business, she came over to me in Hollywood.” Deanna boasts as if it’s something to be proud of. “We’ve been like sisters ever since. At least tonight you can meet the man who bought out your career, eh?” She gives an airy laugh. “Corleone hospitality is like none other!”

“You’re lucky to have grabbed Fredo yourself.” Rita gives Deanna a forced smile.

“Wait till you meet the other ones.” Deanna winks back at her.

“Ahem—” Theresa cuts in, gesturing to the table. “Dinner is about to start, but I’m sure if you have any questions or business related matters, then you could wait to see Mr. Corleone after.”

“And that would be my brother, Michael.” Connie shoots Rita a disapproving look. “Victoria is married to him.”

The same look of utter disbelief crosses Rita’s face as she turns her attention to the Corleone boys—now seeing Michael seated and making conversation with Vito, your father and the Senator. “Is he the…?”

“Dark, gelled back hair, dreamy one with eyes to die for?” Deanna hiccups, “yes!”

“Oh, that’s Mr. Corleone… The head of the Corleone family, is he? I know Moe mentioned he didn’t like him.” Rita muses.

“Why’s that?” Tilly raises a brow.

“Whenever he came by to the hotels, he made everyone leave. The band, the waiters, and all of us—the girls. Fredo though, he loved our company. He was something else, but now I see he’s trying to be a bit more like his brother. Settling down…” Rita lets out a laugh, nudging Deanna, “and with lucky Deanna at that, but his brother over there… So stern and serious.”

Turning back out of reaction, you notice Michael is well within earshot to listen in on the entirety of your conversation with the girls, and knowing him, he’s already heard it all. However, Michael neither budges a muscle to look or turn back, nor does he care.

You stop yourself from nibbling over your bottom lip to keep your lipstick intact, knowing it comes out of reflex from the jealousy tugging at you in your gut. You hate the very feeling itself, brushing it aside for the sake of maturity.

“Michael’s only bad habit is cigarettes.” Connie pulls open her purse, grabbing one out of her pack. “And you’ll find nothing else about my brother but that.”

If someone doesn’t say that outloud, they’re certainly thinking it. While Rita may be outspoken and promiscuous in manner towards what she wants and what she thinks, the idea of having many other women not just tonight but in general and everyday thinking the same isn’t fantasy—it’s reality.

[ Excerpt 3 ]

“I take it your father is not a man who accept apologies or takes thoughtfulness into consideration through letters and gifts.” Michael laces a hand with you as the two of you remain seated next to each other in Michael’s private vehicle.

“Never has been.” You crack a smile, giving Michael’s hand a gentle squeeze. “He’s always appreciated the sentiment, though. He can be appreciative when he wants to.”

“Your father is a good man, Victoria.” Michael glances back at you, “but the notion may be temporarily lost now with your mother’s death.”

“Michael,” you frown back at him, “I’m sure whatever the reason for him asking for us to see him is nothing hostile or the sort. He loves you like his own son and based on the circumstances, I think the two of you have more in common now than ever.”

“Such as?” Michael raises a brow at you, hardly moved.

“Both of you want Roth dead.” You nod back at him, “but he’s still alive.

[ Excerpt 4 ]

He was a different man then as he can admit to himself now, but everything fit perfectly. He knew he needed you, and he knew he wanted you. He constantly searched at your expression and body language to feel the mutual energy off of you. He wanted you to desire him, he wanted you to crave him both physically and emotionally—because all of these things he did towards you.

Physical attraction had to be set aside for the sake of considering and building a solid marriage, but it was still unavoidable. You were not an ordinary woman blending into the crowd, whether you were in downtown New York or in Vito Corleone’s office that Michael had been in a million times. You’re Sicilian, as Michael could tell from your appearance very clearly, and your facial features, your hair, down to your eyes, and even the way your lips are shaped attracted Michael.

He could not get his eyes off of you, even with his father talking. Each time he glanced at you, he wanted to look again—he wanted to see more. He confused himself in the sense that he didn’t know why he couldn’t get enough of you, no matter how he looked or for how long. He quickly came to the realization that no matter what he did or tried to do, he would simply never get enough of you. That’s when Michael Corleone knew he was falling in love with you.

The way you spoke intrigued him. The way you carried yourself caught his attention. Your behaviour, the sound of your voice, how you could have very much been the Sicilian girl he had laid eyes upon instead of Apollonia, but how you also could have been someone he’d want to search through all of New York to find if he saw you even for a moment downtown.

Michael didn’t want to get his hopes up when he first saw and met you. Apollonia’s death was not fresh, but still too soon. He knew what happened the last time he let his attraction to a woman lead him to marriage. It couldn’t be helped, at the end of the day. He could not and would not refuse his attraction to you.

You weren’t a blur or black sheep of your family. You were involved in differently ways, but not enough to use the word “directly”. You were educated, intelligent, ambitious, had a life of your own, goals of your own, were selfless and devoted to your family. You had every trait Michael was searching for in a potential wife.

[ Excerpt 5 ]

“Not the reaction I expected.” Alphonse purses his lips, reaching into his suit jacket. “Maybe this will help you remember.” He slips out a photograph, holding it up in front of you.

Your jaw falls wide open, your face stinging with sheer and utter humiliation at the image before you. Taken years back when you first started at Dartmouth in your second semester, you pose at Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity house, your arms wrapped around a younger Alphonse Ricci’s arms as he’s leaned in, kissing your cheek deeply as you give a beaming smile at the camera.

“How did…what…?” Your face burns with embarrassment, unable to believe the photograph before you.

“It was just a semester, but I know you remember me.” He places the photograph back into his pocket, grabbing onto your wrist as you attempt to reach out for it. “Ha—that helped, didn’t it? Look at you…”

“Stop…” You take a step back, “stop this.”

#the godfather #godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #moth to flame fanfic #the godfather x reader #al pacino x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #melis-writes

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sweeterthansammy · 3 years

Text

Rough Rider || Bucky Barnes

Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female [Romanoff] biker!Reader; The reader is Bucky’s love interest.

Summary: In which Bucky finds interest in a biker chick.

Genre: Smut

Written in third person point of view.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, public sex, sex on a motorbike, mild choking, fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, mild language, and Bucky’s infatuation with a woman that knows how to ride a motorbike :)

Word count: 3.1k+

A/N: Kinda proud of this one 🥲

Important notes: The reader is Nat’s cousin. The reader is at least 21. I know jackshit about motorbikes and models so bear with me. Song used in fic: R U Mine? by Arctic Monkeys. Not BETA’d - all mistakes are mine.

Bucky entered the compound with a wolf whistle, his gloved hand pointing at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows as he approached the kitchen.

“Whose Harley is that out front?” he asked, completely disregarding Y/N who sat at the island, popping a cherry into her mouth.

“Mine,” she muttered, tongue swiping out of her mouth to lick the red juice trickling down her bottom lip.

Bucky looked from Natasha to Y/N, mesmerized by her E/C eyes and the way they basically pierced right into his. He looked back at Nat, silently asking “who’s she?”

“Y/N, this is Bucky, a complete delinquent that’s best friends with Steve. Buck, meet Y/N, my cousin who serves as a sister more or less.”

Y/N stood, a little black dress clinging to her figure, a leather jacket covering her arms. She extended an arm, shaking Bucky’s hand.

“Woah, strong grip there, buddy.”

He chuckled, removing the leather glove and shoving it into the pocket of his own jacket. She looked down at his metal arm.

“Oh, that’s the…” she trailed off, motioning with her hands to make the situation any less awkward than it already was, failing miserably. “Yeah, that arm.”

Bucky was truly a saint. After Nat had given her a rundown of his story, she couldn’t help but empathize for the man. He was simply broken and all she wanted to do was give him a hug and ameliorate him, it didn't matter if she knew him or not. As Nat was called by Steve to help him with something, she and Bucky remained in the kitchen. She broke the silence, popping another cherry into her mouth.

“Hey, wanna go for a spin?” she asked, jiggling her keys in the air as a way to catch his attention.

“Uh, sure, why not?”

As they were about to leave, she stopped in her tracks, eyes ogling at his motorbike.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, admiring the all-black Yamaha YZF-R6 standing in front of her. “This is yours?”

“Been mine since...since I can remember,” he chuckled, kicking at the gravel with the tip of his boot as she continued to analyze his bike.

“Race me.”

Straightforward, isn’t she?

“What?”

“Race me. Harley versus Yamaha.”

“What does the winner get?”

She thought for quite some time, grinning as she looked down at the beauty in front of her.

“Winner gets a ride on the loser's bike until I can think of something else...unless you have any ideas.”

He eyed the black Harley, red accents screaming his name.

“Deal.”

With that, they swung their legs over their seats, saddling up to take off with their beasts. Y/N buckled her helmet on, leaning forward to rev the engine a bit.

“Ready Buck?” she asked over the roaring of both of their engines.

He pulled up next to her, watching the way she planted both feet on either side of the bike.

“Meeting point is back at the compound. Got it?”

Assertive.

She looked over at him, struggling to find his icy orbs through his tinted shield.

“Got it?”

He simply nodded his head once, both riders looking forward before Y/N gave a countdown.

“3...2...1, go!”

Bucky had heard the wildest stories of Y/N, but he always thought that Nat was exaggerating when she said Y/N was the most badass person she knew. She took off, a trail of smoke following the traces of her bike as she zipped down the road.

Bucky was simply taking his time, muttering a quick “oh shit” to himself as he realized she was already around the corner. He used his charm to his advantage, coming to a full stop. He looked ahead, Y/N already backpedaling to check on him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking back as he panted.

“I think I got a flat.”

As she jumped off her bike and walked over to his, he revved his engine, taking off.

“Nevermind, I think I’m gonna beat your ass,” he winked at her, taking off.

“Hey- that’s not fair!”

She knew he couldn’t hear her but she got back on her bike, slowly cruising down the street. Eventually, Bucky came into sight, leaning on his bike with a smug look.

“I think you owe me something, doll.”

She simply chuckled, getting off her bike.

“That was fowl.”

She hopped off of her bike, holding onto the handlebars of her bike before he took over.

“Wow,” he mumbled, revving the engine.

“Go on, take ‘er for a spin.”

She watched as he took off again, not fighting the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“And just like that, you’re in love.”

She jumped at the voice that came from behind her, turning to face a man standing at around 6”2’.

“How’d you know?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Bucky’s a pretty good friend of mine. Hated him at first but I grew to love the man as we got older.”

She turned the slightest bit to look at him.

“He’s like a brother,” he assured. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m-”

“Y/N. Heard lots about you from the Black Widow herself. What are you doing out here anyway?”

“I was just visiting for a few days. Nat wants me to move out here but I don’t know yet.”

“Well, you should. You’ll be with us for the most part. Besides, Bucky’s making you his girlfriend before you even get the chance to pack your suitcase.”

“What makes you so sure about that?”

She could feel her cheeks burning up as he slowly made his way back to the compound.

“I know when my best friend’s in love. He has this look that fails to mask the fact that he’s in love.”

“Nat, last time we did that-”

“Don’t mention it. Just put your shoes on and come downstairs.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing a random pair of black high heels before going to meet Natasha downstairs. It seemed that all eyes were on her, everyone admiring the nymph in front of them.

“As I probably mentioned numerous times before-”

“This is your cousin, Y/N. She’s beautiful beyond words and she’s got a killer personality. Nat, I’ve listened to you go on about her for the past two weeks. She’s lovely, but you sound like a broken record at this point, sweetheart,” Steve interjected, offering Y/N a smile while taking Nat’s arm in his.

“She’s got a voluptuous ass too,” she heard Sam mutter under his breath.

“Speak up, sweetie,” she baited with a giggle.

The glare that bored into the side of Sam’s face was all but amiable, his fists copying the actions of his jaw as they tightened at his sides. Sam moved up a bit with a smug, glorious smirk, walking directly next to Y/N.

“You’ve got the man whipped and you haven’t even fucked him yet.”

She nearly choked on her saliva.

“Sam, cut it out,” she scolded the younger man.

“You know it’s true,” he lifted his arms in surrender to her sass, dodging her objection.

Drinking was hardly ever a good idea when Y/N and Nat were together. Y/N had gotten better over the years, knowing her limit with alcohol, but Nat let all hell loose. Unless they weren’t in the middle of a mission, she was taking shot after shot, drink after drink, until she was struggling to stand on her own two feet. Y/N was amazed sometimes as to how she could drink that much without throwing up.

“Another one, come on,” Nat tugged on her arm, the colored lights making her head grow fuzzy as they stood at the bar.

“Two shots of silver tequila, anything’ll do!”

Y/N gagged merely at the sight of clear liquid filling the little glasses.

“Anything else?” the bartender asked over the blaring music, Nat simply scanning everyone’s glasses along the bar.

“Whatever she’s having, the pink thing.”

She bit her lip to suppress a chuckle, earning a concerned look from an obviously drunken Nat.

“What?”

“I’ll be over there with Sam and Tony.”

“But your shot-”

“Take it - I don’t know, do something with it!”

Y/N pat her back, sliding past her as she made her way to the pair sitting at the booth.

“Not up for dancing?” she queried, looking back and forth between them.

“God, no! What, you want me to look like an idiot?”

“C’mon, Tony! Pepper had to teach you something,” she surveyed the nightclub quickly, a silver arm catching her eye rather quickly. “What about you? I’d love to see the ‘Round Brown’ in action.”

“The falcon comes to life in these settings,” he informed her, winking slyly.

She tucked her straw between her lips, a smooth fruity mixture cascading down her throat to suppress the guffaw that danced at the tip of her tongue. The music changed, the lights dimming to a deep, dark purple. She looked at Tony and then Sam, both of them looking around at mounds of bodies on the dance floor.

She followed their eyes, that damn metal arm catching her eyes again. Tons of women threw themselves at him, wanting to get just a little taste of that metal arm, soon leaving solemnly as he turned them away.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be over there.”

Sam easily replaced Bucky, the ladies now feeling up on him as if he were some hunk of meat. She didn’t spare a word to Tony, only offering a lopsided smile as Pepper made her way over to the booth. Y/N slid from her seat, feeling a sudden warmth settle upon her skin as she made her way over to Bucky. He finally acknowledged her, pupils amplifying against his gunmetal irises.

She couldn’t help her lips from moving along to the lyrics, “I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be / And satisfaction feels like a distant memory / And I can't help myself, all I / Wanna hear her say is ‘Are you mine?’”

His eyes were all but sweet and bright, lust written all over his body as her fingers trailed up his chest, cupping his chin deftly.

“Well, are you mine? / Are you mine? / Are you mine?”

She cocked her head to the side, dismayed by his knowledge of the current song.

“Well, that depends, Mr. Barnes. If you want me to be yours, all you have to do is say the word,” she spoke quiet enough for only him to hear, tongue skimming along the edge of his ear.

By the way he licked his lips, she could tell that he wanted to do more than just verbally claim her.

She’s fucking dangerous.

She looked up at Bucky, fingers coyly playing with each other as if she hadn’t just given him a glimpse of a completely different side to her. His lips were on hers in an instant, hands palming her backside as they slowly inched further up her dress, eventually landing on a little strap of leather higher up her thigh.

He couldn’t help his hands from exploring every inch of her skin, nails leaving gentle burning sensations as they raked at her skin. He lost it when her back arched, her chest colliding with his as her fingers soon got lost in his hair, one leg raising to pull his body closer, if even possible. He pulled away abruptly, one hand cradling the underside of her thigh and the other right under her chin.

“I need you to fuck me, like right now, because I think I might pass out if you don’t,” she spoke gravelly, lips crashing onto his once more in a heated, sloppy kiss.

Her feet were swept from the ground in a matter of a few seconds, arms crossing against Bucky’s back as she dangled over his shoulder. Her eyes traveled over the black motorbike once they’d made it outside, squealing as he held onto her hips, pulling her down so she was seated in his lap as he laid back in his seat. Her hands were everywhere all at once, though seeming to avoid the area in which he needed her the most.

It was quite a scene, a cacophony of grunts and whimpers being evoked from the pair. Hearing the engine of his bike roar, Y/N pulled off, pupils fixated on his with her hands on either side of his face. The ride was quite something - full of lingering, teasing touches, sweet, albeit intense, kisses, and reprehensible whispers.

The faint light of a wacky gas station illuminated his silhouette, his flesh hand easily adjusting itself around her throat, the other working to slide her dress just up around her waist before pushing her underwear aside, running two fingers up her folds. She hummed at the feeling, fingernails digging into that of his arm.

“‘S that feel good, doll?” he asked incoherently, voice barely above a whisper as his tongue nudged into her mouth.

She nodded, earning a buoyant pinch to her cunt. Her insides were going feral, wanting nothing more than his cock.

“I need words, toots.”

“F-uck yes, but I-I want y-ou,” she stammered, groaning when his fingers clamped even harder around her clit, thumb stimulating her nub.

He chuckled as her legs attempted to fly shut, only being stopped by his large thighs that were parting them.

“But you already have me, doll.”

“I-I need you to fuck me,” she got out, fingers draining of color as she balled the leather of his jacket.

His fingers pumped in and out of her, curling against her g-spot once before pulling out. She mentally cursed him out for looking so hot, tongue swiveling around his digits to taste her remnants.

“Fucking delicious,” he crooned, tapping his fingers against her lips before having her own tongue pivot around his faux fingers.

She easily freed him of his bottoms, his cock springing to meet his veiled torso. Her eyes widened.

Jesus fuck-

“It’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

She looked up at him, back down to his cock, and back up to his face.

“Hey, if you don’t wan-”

“No, god no. I still want you to fuck me. You’re just…bigger than average.”

He chuckled, dog tags clanging against his rumbling chest. Her legs were thrown over his thighs in seconds, tip barely prodding at her entrance. She could feel her skin burning up, eager to have him inside of her. He was taking far too long, manipulating her legs into many different angles so it wouldn’t be as uncomfortable. She griped aloud, palms landing flat on his pecs as she pushed him back against the seat.

“Impatient, huh?” he couldn’t help the cocky grin splayed on his face.

“Taking too long,” she grumbled, sinking down onto him.

She groaned at the feeling, being stretched out beyond her limit. Her head lazed back as if she had no vertebrae, hands getting lost in his hair as his hips bucked up into her. She cried out, legs tightening around his hips as she soon began to bounce on his cock.

“Attagirl,” he praised, hands cupping either of her breasts before flicking over her nipples.

With the way he twitched inside of her and with the way her walls clamped around him, both of them could tell they wouldn’t last too long. It was far beyond erratic and the words spurring out of Bucky’s mouth helped the least bit.

“This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Bet no one has fucked you this good yet, huh doll?”

Her legs grew tired as she felt herself lurching on the edge of her climax. She fought the burn, arms holding him impossibly tight as her walls fluttered around him.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?”

She nodded, not being able to get out one comprehensible word. She came around him with a celestial moan, legs twitching ever so gently. His pace didn’t falter once, hands coming up to her waist as he fucked her through her high. Her eyes widened as she felt herself on the verge of another orgasm, Bucky’s pace relentless as he savored the way she felt so snug around his cock.

“Buck-”

“Fuck, you’re killing me, doll.”

He wanted nothing but to fuck the soul out of her, such pleasant sounds rolling off her tongue. It was a matter of seconds before he swung both legs over his bike, not leaving her body at any point, before hoisting both legs around his torso, hips snapping into hers as if his life depended on it. She yelped, his tip grazing at her cervix. For a moment, she saw stars, vision going blurry as he fucked her into oblivion, another release washing over her.

He slowed down a second, picking his pace back up until he was close. At that point, she was hardly even conscious, walls flexing around him with his nails creating crescent-like welts on her thighs. Her legs clung onto his waist, his hips coming to a halt before spurts of cum filled her. She finally opened her eyes when he’d pulled out of her, shivering at the feeling of his cum trickling out of her.

Bucky ventured off for some water and tissues, anything for a quick fix until they got back to the compound. The flashing of red and blue lights fully alerted her now, the siren growing louder as it approached the station. She looked up at Bucky who was walking out of the gas station with a bottle of water and a box of tissues, scrambling to her feet.

“Easy there, doll. I don’t want you passing out on me now.”

“Buck, we need to leave now.”

The sudden urgency in her tone drew a look of worry on Bucky’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping once they faced directly towards one another. “Did I do so-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she assured him, pecking his lips quickly. “But, I’m afraid that someone reported us to the cops.”

They drove right up the curb, pulling up next to a pump.

“But we didn’t-”

“Public nudity, Buck.”

“We weren’t even naked!”

“To be fair, your dick was out, sweetheart. Not to mention, you did fuck me in the center of a gas station.”

He looked over his shoulder, the eyes of two middle-aged officers stuck on him. As they made their way over to the pair, Y/N hopped onto his bike, Bucky hot on her tail before tapping her thigh.

“Show me how you ride, princess.”

Taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @quxxnxfhxll @eunoia-kth @siriuslyslyslytherin @dracomalfoys-wh0re @rudypankowisdaddy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @i-love-scott-mccall - join here!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x romanoff!reader #bucky barnes x biker reader #marvel smut #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

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htfanimevocagirl02 · 3 years

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Villains Are Destined To Die agent au

-The Eckarts, the royal empire family, Verdandi and Iklie's family are a family of secret agents, assasins and spies. Derrick is an agent, Reynold is a gunman, Callisto is an agent with a useless dad as his boss, Vinter is a guy who researches and gives information, Iklies is just a rookie agent. The Duke is the boss.

-The Eckarts had Ivonne who was just a normal child and everyone loved her, until she gets lost during a festival she and her brothers snuck out then the Duke found Penelope in the streets and took in her in as usual. Due to neglect, Penelope grows into a fickle, rebelious, selfish and prissy but grows to be an spy and sniper.

-She would wear lots of luxurious jewelry and stunning dresses, while able to play the piano and act as a talent. Her uniform is a mix of black widow and scarlet witch--a tight black and teal suit with heels, gloves, a utility belt. She's a sniper with sharp cat eyes so she works with a sniper gun but can use guns and knives.

-In skills she's also good at melee hand to hand combats too, very skillful in flirting and getting things that all she wants. Derrick gets jealous and sullen bc of this while Reynold thinks she's shameless.

-Penny is feisty, fickle and cold, always complaining but she's the type of girl who would still give you something you have never felt before so you keep going to her no matter how much she gives you hell, and everyone still finds her alluring and hot, wanting to be more closer to her.

-Get this, there's a secret file documentary that's going on about some demonic creature about to destroy the world that everyone is aware of. And later some random couple that couldn't have children of their own suddenly shows up at the Eckarts saying they found Ivonne who turned out to have been raised lovingly and lived a normal teen girl.

-Ivonne looks all meek, awkward, good and unsure like those protagonist girls who suddenly have a change of life after meeting their real family for the first time or something. She's all wowed and curious about her family's secret agent life when moving into the mansion for the first time. Derrick turns to Ivonne to make Penelope jealous bc he's all sullen and petty.

-Penelope is annoyed by Ivonne with her all goody prescence and stays away, not wanting to deal with how happy everyone is and stubbornly thinks that she wasn't part of the family anyway. Meanwhile Ivonne is now a rookie agent in training wearing a dark blue cap, white tshirt, bullet proof vest, military pants and boots--and tries to keep asking Penelope to teach her, much to her annoyance.

-Like in the novel, Penelope sees her without her reflection on a water fountain and contemplates whether to do anything about it or what to do since she's known to be the manipulating girl. So she tells Callisto who trusts her and they make Ivonne reveal herself to be the demonic monster that they were all looking out for.

-Ivonne shows into her true form as a monster with tentacles out of her mouth, turning out to have brainwashed the parents into raising her and sending her to the mansion. Derrick who turned out to have been brainwashed the whole time and is shocked ofc and everyone all goes after her.

-Later there's this sort of lair inside Callisto's mansion where the dragon fangs are and Ivonne opens it to get it while using Derrick as hostage. Everyone manages to get her but bc Derrick had been around her for a long time, he can't push away the brainwashing and Ivonne makes him open the safe.

-Cue to the destruction and chaos of the golden dragon showing up, and Penelope being the badass shoots and kicks down Ivonne, stepping on the mirror to break it and saving the world. Then Ivonne has a final form and right before Penny is about to kill her, Derrick kills Ivonne while terribly injured by Ivonne.

-Afterwards everything is fine again. Penelope is sick of everyone's crap. Ivonne also wakes up as her normal self with the Leila demon casted out of her but she faces lots of trouble thanks to Leila making her a bad person and no one trusts her. Especially Derrick who is going through a lot of therapy and healing, though Reynold would know that she's the real Ivonne and be happy to see her.

-She can't use her body anymore she's crippled and wheelchair bound as well, but Ivonne and Penelope become good sisterly friends since Penny isn't going to be part of the Eckarts anymore after Callisto's family is killed by Leila and Penelope decides to move in with him to take over the family household even though the Duke and Reynold still want Penny to stay.

-Derrick tries to get Penelope to forgive him but she doesn't take it bc she's the 'selfish girl who only thought of herself and expects everyone to look at her as the Queen' that everyone knows her as, and she knows better so she leaves him anyway. In his face.

-Penny and Callisto spend years trying to rebuild his home and help him become the master of the Regulus family, with Penny not thinking about wanting to become one with him until she finally accepts his proposal. Derrick doesn't look at Penny anymore since he has learnt to move on and get close to Ivonne again, but he still misses her alot without everyone else.

-Ivonne is the only one who Penelope is close to in the Eckarts as BFFs.

#death is the only ending for the villainess #villains are destined to die #penelope eckhart #penelope eckart #ivonne eckhart #yvonne eckart #derrick eckhart #derrick eckart #reynold eckhart #reynold eckart #vinter verdandi #winter verdandi #duke eckhart #duke eckart #callisto regulus #iklies

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wandamaxim0f · 3 years

Text

Brian 'Otis' Zvonecek One-Shot - Ghost of you

Words: 1.3k

Otis x Female reader

Tw: mentions of character death, grief, very sad, mentions of Grey's Anatomy and Taylor Swift, unsupportive parent, heartbreak, mentions of wedding and kids, Reader is a widow, pet names (babe) (If I forgot any warning please let me know!)

A/N: This is the first one-shot I post here :) It's inspired by the 5 seconds of summer song "Ghost of you" so I recommend you hear it before reading this! Enjoy!

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Y/N woke up, as tired as always and sat down on bed. Those two weeks without her husband had felt like a lifetime. Maybe it had been one, a new life, a life where Brian was gone. She had seen a thousand shows and movies where someone became a widow, and now she could hear that Grey’s Anatomy line on repeat in her head, about Derek’s mother not being able to sleep on her late husband’s side of the bed. As she looked over her shoulder, she realized his side of the bed remained untouched from that last morning, in which they had woken up, rearranged the bedsheets, pillows and blankets, had breakfast together, kissed goodbye and left for work. And never met again.

There's your coffee cup

The lipstick stain fades with time

As she got to the kitchen, got the coffee maker working and opened the cabinet to grab her coffee cup, she saw his, with the Blackhawks logo on it, right next to hers, and the tears pooled once again in the eyes Otis had loved so much. Silently, she thanked him for doing the dishes instead of just leaving them on the sink for her to wash when she got back home as they usually did, since she wouldn't have been able to wash his cup. Oh, how he loved that cup.

If I can dream long enough

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

“If anything should happen to me, I’ll visit you in your dreams. I promise. But there’s no need to worry about that now, babe. We’re gonna have kids and grow old together, you know? Just like we said” he whispered to her, his hand resting in her lower belly lovingly, and Y/N got on her side, a beautiful smile on her lips as she got lost in his brown eyes “Yeah? How many?” “Two boys and a girl. I’m confident I’ll be just fine, but I wouldn’t like you to be alone if one day I don’t make it back home”

Except that two whole weeks had gone by and she never dreamt, of anything. Not even once. And she ended up alone. They had dated four years, only for him to die two weeks after their wedding.

She drank her coffee, glancing at the sugar pot that rested on the counter, close to the coffee maker. He always took his coffee with one spoonful of sugar, while she took it as bitter as possible. Otis always joked about how she was so sweet and nice while her coffee was so bitter. “It’s almost ironic, you know? You are one of the sweetest people on earth, and yet you have your coffee with no sugar and very little milk” he had grinned one day, the first morning they spent together.

After washing the cup and leaving it next to Otis’s, she went to their bedroom to grab her gun and badge and head to the 21st district for the first time since she got that damn call from chief Boden.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Voight and Platt both decided it would be best if she stayed on desk duty for a while, at least until she got completely cleared by a therapist that she was good to be back on the streets. She didn’t complain, not finding that much energy on herself. It was thankfully a quiet day, so her mind was allowed to be a bit all over the place.

She remembered, with her very first smile in weeks, how on their fifth date they had dinner at his place one night he could kick Cruz and Brett out, and after dinner, he connected his phone to the speaker to play Taylor Swift’s album Red, the one she had told him was her favorite. So they danced to All too well as if the world was ending, and his eyes had never shine so brightly as he looked at her, spinning around, laughing and giggling.

Ever since then, dancing became their thing. They’d dance whenever they had the chance. And after they moved in together, they’d dance every night he’d spend at home. They had a whole playlist for their dancing moments, though they would dance to any song, regardless of the rhythm.

Surprisingly, that last day of license she had, she found herself dancing on her own to All too well, the first time she had danced alone to that song in four years, and even though it broke her heart once again, she found a little peace and the feeling that he hadn’t left her for real. She ended up leaning onto the door frame, remembering how they’d dance to that song whenever they heard it, and almost seeing their ghosts laughing with their arms around each other.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

As she got to their apartment that terrible day, with Hailey and Kim supporting her, she had to find some kind of strength to get to their room, her room now, since it would no longer be shared with Otis. Whatever strength she had found, it left her as soon as she got to the door, his Zepplin shirt he used as a pajama resting on top of a pillow. He’d say it helped him forget anything terrible he had seen during his shift, and forget the terrible smells he had felt.

She had broken down in tears and fell to her knees, sobbing loudly. Her friends got to her and wrapped their arms around the now widow police officer. In her mind, she was still there, crying. She couldn’t remember getting up or stop crying, and wondered if her soul was still in that same position. It sure felt like that.

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

But I know better now

(Better now)

A tiny smile showed up on her lips as she remembered her mom’s words when they told her they had gotten engaged. Mrs Y/LN had said it had nothing to do with Otis, and everything to do with Y/N’s stupidity. She was way too young to know what real love felt like, Otis was her second boyfriend after all, if we consider her high school three weeks relationship a boyfriend. No. There was no way she was engaged. She was dumb when it came to love, and she was so young.

They had proved her wrong.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

As she got home that afternoon, she took a shower and dressed in his Zepplin shirt, with a sad smile. He had bought it really cheap like a decade ago and failed to realize it said Zepplin instead of Zepellin. It became a silly and loving joke between the two of them. She connected her phone to his speaker and All too well started playing once again, tears pooling in her eyes as she heard the lyrics, since she too, remembered everything all too well.

Too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Too young, too dumb

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

But this time, she tripped over the coffee table they had in the middle of the living room, and decided to stop dancing, turning off the speaker and closing the music app, realizing that maybe dancing in their living room was way too sacred to do it alone. She couldn’t dance like she did with him, so why bother? Otis was gone, and he had taken Y/N’s heart with him.

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rayshippouuchiha · 4 years

Note

naruto moves into the forest of death bc loving that place is in his blood

I see this, I love this, it begins a long time before Naruto is born and it goes a little bit like this:

Hashirama never fully recovers from the fight with Madara. Not really, not fully, not in the ways that truly matter for a man and a shinobi.

He keeps a strong presence for the village and those who would seek to do Konoha harm but to those closest to him, to those who know the man behind the titles and the legend, the differences are stark and grim.

Hashirama spends more and more time in the forest, spends days and nights out amongst the trees and the flowers and the sprawling roots, pouring more and more of himself into all of it as he goes.

Tobirama argues with him about his distraction, about his distance, about his decision to pass the mantle of Hokage onto Tobirama who never really wanted it but wears it now because he must, because Hashirama asked. Because Tobirama has always done all he could do to make whatever Hashirama wanted into a reality.

Hurt and hurting Tobirama’s words and accusations are cold and cutting, because that is what a life of too much war and too little peace has made him in moments like this, when fear and love rides him hard, and unlike Hashirama he’s never been able to slip more than a fraction of that mantle. But, most of all, Tobirama is desperate not to let his beloved elder brother slip through his fingers like so many others have in the past.

They built the village Hashirama and Madara dreamed of to stop the death and the suffering so why is Tobirama’s beautiful and lively brother seemingly so determined to fade away. To go where Tobirama cannot follow?

He doesn’t understand and if there’s one thing Tobirama truly hates in this life it is not knowing.

But Hashirama just smiles at him, reaches up to pull him down so he can press a kiss to Tobirama’s forehead, and then drifts away back into the trees.

Mito watches her husband just as closely and sees what Tobirama, her brother in all the ways that matter, sees.

Hashirama, once so vibrant and alive, is ... diminished. Fading bit by bit.

But, unlike Tobirama, Mito keeps her silence. Words have not been necessary between her and Hashirama for years now.

Instead she follows him into the forest when time and her duties will permit it, sometimes even when they do not. She watches him breathe new life into a forest that already teems with it. Watches him eradicate sickness from saplings, watches him push them to grow until they are towering monoliths with bark as hard as iron. She watches him run calloused, battle worn fingertips over flower petals and leaves with the gentle sort of reverence that he’s always touched her with in their quieter moments, in the times when passion and lust and heat were not necessary. When only love was.

She loves him all the more in those moments, in these moments of fading light, even when she knows that he is leaving her. Going somewhere she cannot follow, not with her duties, not with what she carries. Not yet. Likely not for decades to come.

“Mito,” Hashirama sighs to her one night when the fireflies are thick and the trees sway down to meet the both of them. “My beloved Mito.”

“Husband,” Mito murmurs back as she always does, one hand smoothing over his hair where his head is resting in her lap. “My foolish husband.”

“I cannot give you back the sea,” Hashirama whispers once the silence has grown thick and heavy around them. “I cannot return you to the whirlpools and the eddies.”

“You took neither from me so they are not yours to return,” Mito tells him sternly, lovingly. “My choices were and are my own, you wood brained idiot. They have never been yours to carry. If I wanted the ocean I would simple go to it. But Konoha is my home now.”

“My fierce fire-pearl,” Hashirama smiles then, soft and small. “My beloved ocean rose. I would bring the very sea here to meet you if I could. Or I’d pester Tobirama into doing it for me. But instead I give you this, an ocean of trees, a sea of leaves and flowers as wild and untamed as Uzushio’s itself. Here you will always be safe, here you will always find me.”

“I will never need to find you,” Mito tells him, the hand laid atop his chest clenching just a bit in the battle silk above his heart. “You will not go where I cannot follow you, you know better by now.”

“Of course, dear,” Hashirama smiles.

They both know it for the lie that it is.

They both know he’s already leaving.

And when he loves her there, pressed down onto a bed of soft clover and surrounded by trees that seem to sing, Mito tangles her hands in his hair, raises her hips to meet his own as steadily as the tide, and weeps.

~~~

Mito is a widow no more than a month later.

~~~

Tobirama does not weep but the skies do it for him, monsoon like rain washing over Konoha the moment he feels Hashirama’s living and present chakra signal fade away into nothing.

For three days and nights there is only rain, water rushing down streets and swelling the rivers and lakes.

The villagers pray for sun.

Tobirama mourns.

The trees of the forest sway and sing.

~~~

Years pass and Mito wanders the forest in her free moments, hands trailing over tree trunks and vines alike, fingertips ghosting over flower petals and slowly unfurling buds.

As she walks she whispers or rants or sometimes sings, telling the forest her days, her nights, her triumphs and her failures.

And always, always, the trees hum and sway and sing back to her in welcome, in safety.

In love.

~~~

Tobirama wanders the forest in his free moments, leaving streams and ponds in his wake as he goes. He pulls fresh water to the surface, cleanses stagnation where he finds it and ensures that it does not return.

‘Refuge,’ Tobirama thinks as he pulls water from the air and the ground as he breathes his own form of life into the forest his brother had loved and nurtured like a child. The forest he had tried and failed to hate in his grief. ‘Let this be a refuge, let this be a place of peace.’

He does not speak to the trees that feel so like his brother and yet not. Does not talk or argue or scream or rage or beg. He keeps his silence now as he had not then.

But the trees sing back regardless.

Hashirama had always known all of the things Tobirama could never bring himself to say. Had always been able to read beneath and between and around whatever Tobirama did.

His forest is no different.

~~~

Far too soon Tobirama is gone as well and Mito is alone in a way that has far too little to do with the number of people around her and everything to do with her heart.

More years pass and her isolation, her loneliness, only grows.

She is one of last of a quickly dying breed, one of the few who truly remembers life before the villages.

She aches for her husband, for her brother, for her family.

Sometimes, in her darker moments, she even aches for the burden she knows she will pass onto another.

And now she aches for the Clan she has lived long enough to see destroyed.

When Uzushio falls Mito takes to the forest as she always does these days. As she has for years and years now.

She does not rage.

She does not weep.

Instead, kunai in hand, she bleeds.

Uzumaki blood and life force flow out onto rich dark soil, is pressed onto iron bark tree trunks and splattered over flowing vines and unfurled leaves.

Seals flow from her bloody finger tips, are pressed into the ground with every whisper quiet step she takes.

“Shelter,” Mito half begs, half demands to the forest that has been her companion for so long now. “Uzushio has fallen. Hashirama, my love, my people are slaughtered and scattered and lost. You said you would give me the sea if you could, you said this forest was built for me as much as it was for the village. So let this be a shelter. Let this be a place of safety for those who truly need it. Let the Uzumaki blood find home and hope beneath these branches as I long have. Let them know your love as I do. Should they come, let them stay.”

And all around her the forest hums and sways and sings.

Mito, bloody hands pressed against the trunk of the colossal tree that Hashirama had once made love to her under, laughs.

And then, finally, she weeps.

~~~

Time passes, the village moves forward, and so many, too many, forget things that should never be forgotten.

The forest grows darker, the trees, with their tunneling roots, grow more imposing, the animals more vicious and wild.

The trees stop singing.

Instead they rattle and shake and hum in what some would swear is anger.

~~~

Naruto has always liked plants.

Has always liked the green and growing things that can be found almost everywhere around the village.

Trees and flowers and vines don’t hurt him. They don’t call him names, or throw things at him, or spit and stare and hit.

Plants are kind. Plants are safe.

And there’s far too few things or places or people in the village that Naruto can truly call safe. Not for him.

Chest aching, Naruto swipes at the mess of blood and tears smeared across his face as he pushes himself to go faster, to run harder.

He just wants to be away. Away from the name calling and the hitting. Away from the hurt.

He barely even pauses when he hits the fence littered with warning signs he can only half read, just scrambles up and over it without even breaking his stride.

Naruto might not be good at or for much of anything but he’s always been good at this. At running and climbing and finding his own way. It’s not much but it’s all he has.

The forest is dark and gets darker the deeper he runs. The trees grow thicker and taller as he goes too, grow bigger than anything Naruto has ever seen besides the Hokage Mountain.

He runs until he can’t anymore, until he collapses at the base of a tree even bigger than the others he’s seen in the forest.

Chest heaving, tears welling up in his eyes again, Naruto presses his bloody hands and face against the thick bark and cries.

Around him to forest goes still, goes quiet.

“Please,” Naruto whispers, unsure of why he feels the need to talk to trees when not even people want to listen to him. “Please help. It hurts. It hurts so much. I don’t want to go back. Please.”

And even as exhaustion rips and claws at him, forcing black in around the edges of his vision, Naruto swears that, for a split second, the tree he’s leaning against almost seems to sing.

#Naruto #Shelter AU #Anonymous #RayRambles

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jadelynlace · 2 years

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More HCs⎮Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU⎮[Ivar x F!Reader]

☞ find the masterpost here

☞ We have some things with his ex, some things with Floki, one with Dad Ivar and a whole lotta fun.

We’ve talked about Ivar’s ex before. And we’ve talked about the toll she caused in that man.

Or as Hvitserk says: “He turned into a shell of who he was.”

He craves an emotional connection, but he didn’t have it with her. In the beginning, yes, and things were going well, but there were certain red flags Ivar ignored because he thought he wasn’t worth any relationship. And with ignoring them, he let it grow, and didn’t want to lose her, so he took the abuse. In whatever form it came as. And because of that, he became impotent. Resulting in her laughing, teasing, and him giving her head to get her off. Which, is why you said “You’re really good at this” the first time he went down on you. But she never wanted to kiss afterwards. Ivar never got to give aftercare, nor did he get to receive it.

(I created this character’s AU and now even I want to kill her. Alright, focus Jade.)

And then the first time happens between you two. Remember how he scoffed at the condom? Yeah, that was because he was shocked he was hard in the first place, and he was trying to play it off. Also, how he twitched when you got on your knees for him? Yeah, because he hasn’t been that hard or that turned on in a long time. He had the emotional connection with you already, and he didn’t even know it.

And when he went down on you—really went down on you and brought you to your peak, twice? You pulled him up for a kiss, but he stopped before asking “Even though I just went down in you?” with swollen lips and your release shining in his chin. You replied: “Especially because you just went down on me.”

You and Hvitserk stop at the red light in the ambulance; radio broadcast playing in the cabin as you watch the traffic in front of you. Around the corner comes a truck, trailer attached and you immediately recognize it to be Floki’s. But Ivar’s driving it.

“That’s Ivar!” You say, lighting up like a child.

“Where?”

“Floki’s work truck!” You point.

Behind it comes a minivan, Helga’s with the two boys in the back and then finally, another pick up truck. That’s also Floki’s, but he’s driving it. As you two take off again, you watch Ivar take a right turn at the next street, totally aware you saw him. The minivan follows, and so does the last truck. Which, when you drive by, has a hand out of the widow with a wave. An untattooed, white arm and you know even Floki knows you caught them.

“Ivar is Floki’s third son,” Hvitserk says.

“There’s no doubt about that,”

“It’s like, he’s living in a universe where he’s the first born, not the last,” He points out and that makes you laugh.

“Let’s just hope my house is still standing at the end of our shift,”

“Let’s take the ambulance over that way and be on standby,”

“Oh, if I see the truck again I’m hitting it. Sorry Chief, the brakes just...failed! And I couldn’t stop in time. Has absolutely nothing to do with the fact it’s my husband!”

Ivar gets seasick. Motion sick. Nauseous on flights. Car sick. If he’s not driving, he’s likely going to get sick. He has tummy troubles. I said what I said. When you do have the opportunity to accompany him on a flight, you know he has a precise routine: taking medication for his stomach at the gate, and then something to make him tired right as you’re boarding. As the flight attendants go over safety instructions, you feel a slow burst of pressure on your shoulder, and you don’t even have to look over now to know that Ivar’s found a comfortable spot (even though it doesn’t look it), and he’s out. You do make sure you let the flight attendant know to leave his drink and snacks/meal on his tray, or he whines.

We know Ivar smoked. When you two first started getting together, he used his smoke breaks at that parlor as an excuse to talk to you. Sigurd hates the smell, and would stay far away when Ivar went around the back of the building to sit with his cigarettes and draw. And he got away with talking to you as much as he wanted, and you knew this. So, when he starts to call a few more times during the day, you know he’s smoking, you know he’s having more cigarettes than he usually does and you tell him you’re not going to answer the phone because smoking isn’t healthy for him. Even though, you were smoking a cigarette when you two first went out. If you ever try to take a drag from his he’ll go “No, it’s not healthy!” And then he frowns because he fell into that trap, again.

On more than one occasion, prior to his accident, you have come out of the store to see him leaning against your car, or his car, looking up at the stars and finishing his cigarette.

Even when he smoked on your balcony, you’d step out and he’s apologize, try to shoo you back inside but you’d climb right into his lap.

“You hate the smell,” He’d try.

“I want to be close to you,” You whisper, resting against him.

Remember how Ubbe said the brothers started to piece a few things together in regards to you two dating? Well, one of which was when you came into the station for your shift, with the smell of Ivar’s cologne still on you. A very particular brand, that’s only sold in his home country and Hvitserk could recognize it anywhere.

“She came in smelling like Ivar’s cologne, I think you’re right about the two of them!” He’ll text Ubbe. “Add it to the list!”

And Ubbe certainly adds it to the list.

There’s a spot Ivar favors in a park, much like where he used to draw as a kid, that he’ll occupy at early hours in the morning. The bench faces where he can see the sun rise, and on more than one occasion he’s sat there, drawing the sun rise and then the rays on the water.

After a particularly horrid shift, you stop at the corner coffee shop, grab a cup and walk through that park. At first, you think your exhaustion is getting the best of you: there’s no way that’s Ivar on the bench this early in the morning, but he’s there, bundled up and drawing.

“What are you doing up this early?” Ivar hears a voice float from his left and he looks up to see you, dressed in your uniform, an additional sweatshirt with the department’s logo and a steaming cup of coffee.

“Drawing,” Ivar tries and you sit down next to him. “You can see the sunrise from here,” He admits. “I like to draw it,” And you peek down to see his artwork and you may as well look at that, because it’s more lifelike than the scenery in front of you, even with no color. You suddenly pass Ivar your cup of coffee, and he takes a big sip, while you rest your head on his shoulder. “Long night?”

“Horribly long,” You whisper, closing your eyes for a moment and you don’t care if anyone sees this.

“Want to head back? We can shower and I’ll make you some breakfast?” Ivar asks and you nod.

While he puts his notebook in his backpack, you stand, lacing your fingers with his as you two reach the crosswalk, and wait for the signal. Around the corner, there’s a truck at a different light, with full view of the two of you and Ubbe can see you and Ivar holding hands.

“You’re right,” Ubbe says immediately once Hvitserk picks up.

“I was just falling asleep,” Hvitserk mumbles.

“They’re holding hands,” Ubbe says.

“How do you know?” Hvitserk asks.

“I’m looking at them right now, leaving the park,” He speaks, the car behind him honking while he remains still even after the light changes.

“Add it to the list!” Hvitserk says and the line goes dead.

Ivar has a love for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He always makes one when you’re upset, because his mom used to do that for him, when he was upset. So, there’s no doubt he can’t wait until his kid is enjoying them right alongside him. You wait until he’s home on his lunch, just because you want Ivar to be there to see it, and in case there’s an adverse reaction to the peanuts.

So, Ivar takes his seat next to the baby’s high chair, pulling the thing over to the table and cuts off a small little corner of his sandwich for the 12-month-old.

“Like this, see?” Ivar says, taking his sandwich and biting the middle. The baby watches, looks back at his little piece, and gracefully shoves the whole thing in his mouth in one quick, sideways motion. It makes Ivar suddenly laugh, which makes the little one giggle back at his Dad while you sit there and record these two.

“Is it yummy?” Ivar asks.

This is courtesy of @ivarisms and our wonderful discussion regarding Ivar and his breeding kink.

“Fed In Bed and Bred” is Ivar’s version of “Live Laugh Love” and you know damn well this dork tries, on more than one occasion, to hang a sign in the new house you two buy, with the exact logo. One that he made.

Another one he tries to hang? “Fuck and kill your way to Valhalla!” But when he’s drunk, he plasters a piece of white paper so all it reads is “Fuck your way to Valhalla!” and, while he’s at it, he writes your wife on another slip of paper. Making the final result: “Fuck your wife to Valhalla!”

Interior decorating is not his strong suit.

Ivar is 6′5″ or 198 cm.

(Ink Drinker’s Ivar, at this point, has evolved into his own character, with the likeness of his FC’s features. And historically, Ivar the Boneless was meant to be giant of a man (double thanks to @ivarisms for pointing this out to me) so you are all very welcome. That mother fucker is tall, he’s wide, he’s muscular, he’s big. Hug him.)

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine @prepare4trouble @abbiii72 @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @pixluru @93xdiagonxalley @ivarisms @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony @peakywitch @ivarsgard @ivarcansteponmeanytime

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

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wintervvidow · 3 years

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apricity

part one.

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, blood mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 2,364

A/N: hi! welcome to part one of apricity! set in mid-captain america: the winter soldier. this idea has been in my head for a very long time and I am super excited to finally get it out. in this story I use the term “winter widow” , similar to the “winter soldier”, it has no correlation to bucky and natasha here. prolonged italics indicate a flashback. friendly feedback is appreciated! thank you! <3

ALSO: please know that future parts will take a WHILE. I just want to get the first part out to get the ball rolling.

MASTERLIST

The silence is what breaks her. She swears she would have been fine if it weren't for the silence, the screams of innocent bystanders no longer existed, the smell of gunpowder burning her nose and stinging her eyes. Aside from the erratic breaths coming from both their lips, you could hear a pin drop as their eyes stared at each other in a blinding intensity as Steve Rogers called out to him, “Bucky?”

The gun feels entirely too heavy in her hands as her lungs expand rapidly, eyes unmoving from the ghost of a man in front of her. Except he isn't a ghost anymore. He's here, alive. James Buchanan Barnes, her Bucky, alive.

He’s clad in all-black tactical gear, metal arm glinting blindingly in the sun. His eyes are a stormy shade of blue, same as the ones that haunt her in her nightmares, not the kind blue she wishes she could have back. The Winter Soldier is the shell of the man she was in love with, the man in front of her was the man she learned to love all the same. He protected her even when he didn’t remember her, even the brainwashing couldn’t fully get rid of the love they both had for one another. Although HYDRA fought like hell to make them both forget. It never worked though, fragments of memory always littered their conscience.

His brows furrow, overgrown hair in his eyes, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Deep down in her bones, she knew he was alive. The last time she saw him he was being wiped by HYDRA, his screams masking her disappearance into the winter weather. HYDRA searched high and low for her, yet they forgot that they were the ones to train her. HYDRA perfected her, taught her how to disappear into thin air, and that's just what she did. They went as far as to send the Winter Soldier to find her, but even he couldn’t track her. Florence was a ghost.

Florence Morozov was many things before she was an assassin; she was an immigrant daughter, a friend, a nurse, and her greatest title of all, the love of Bucky Barnes' life, his fiancée. The couple, along with the third wheel Steve, were inseparable in their younger days before the second war. Where there was one, the other two were usually not far behind.

The trio had gone to the Stark Expo the night before Bucky got shipped off to the war. That night Bucky had proposed with a small emerald ring, promising her that when he got back they'd get married, move into a little white picket fence house, and settle down. They dreamed of growing old together surrounded by their kids and grandchildren. Only that dream had been crushed under the heel of HYDRA, not long after Florence enlisted as a nurse and Steve became Captain America, notably leading the Howling Commandos. Florence worked closely along with them, acting as a medic when needed.

When Steve woke up from his 70-year slumber on ice, Florence had a lot of explaining to do. How she was alive, what she had been doing, where she had been. She told Steve what he needed to know, leaving Bucky out of the answers. She had to protect him, even if it meant lying to their shared best friend. She would do anything to protect Bucky.

Florence explained to Steve that when she fell off the train with Bucky, she had been captured by HYDRA and experimented on. She was sent to the Red Room to be trained and then sent back to HYDRA in the ‘50s. She was their puppet for 46 years, coined the name the Winter Widow before she disappeared in late December of 1991. Florence was on the run for 17 years before she was taken in by Clint Barton, joining S.H.I.E.L.D along with Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha and Florence grew to be very close over the years, the trauma they both shared bonded them. Natasha was the only one to know the full story of Bucky, every nitty-gritty detail that haunted Florence in her dreams. When Nick Fury had been killed, both Florence and Natasha immediately recognized the ballistics information, a silent agreement between the two redheads to only tell Steve what he needed to know, no more than that. Florence only told Steve that she knew the Winter Soldier, nothing more. Natasha understood her secrets, she had them herself, her response of, "That's not my story to tell, we all have secrets for a reason."

Florence quickly tracked everything up to this moment. Fury being attacked, Steve's description of the shooter, the Winter Soldier attacking them on the highway only minutes ago. And then there was the chase between the soldier and Florence, trying to divert him. And it worked, Florence had managed to distract him until he got too close, the pair of lovers engaging in hand-to-hand combat until Steve intervened.

And now here she was standing in the middle of the street with a bullet in her shoulder from none other than the Winter Soldier. Flashes of the mission in Odessa running through her mind, he had shot her in the thigh then, Natasha in the abdomen. Steve stood in shock as the ghost disappeared, leaving Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Florence to be surrounded by HYDRA agents and arrested.

Blood trickled down Florence’s shoulder as she was seated between Sam and Natasha in the back of the truck. Her shoulder felt white-hot as she grits her teeth, Sam nervously glancing at her every second. Steve sat across from them, visibly upset, lifting his head to glare at Florence, eyes cold, "You said you knew the Winter Soldier, that you two had a history, not that it was Bucky!" Steve felt betrayed, his oldest friend lying to his face for years about his best friend.

Sam angrily glared at Steve as Florence rasped her response with a shaky breath, "Steve, I'm kind of bleeding out right now. This is going to have to wait, just know I had my reasons. I did it to protect him. And you."

Florence knew this day would come. Bucky wouldn’t be a ghost forever. She fought herself internally every night, dreaming of him. It was always him; the good and bad, the Red Room, what happened after the Red Room, their mission in Romania, and every second in between. She was permanently trapped in her own personal hell.

Steve continued on, “It was him. He looked right at me and he didn’t even know me.”

Florence knew the feeling. Every time Bucky was reprogrammed, she had to convince him to loosen his grip around her throat, begging him to recognize her before he killed her. And every time he did, his eyes flashing in recognition and guilt. And then he would hold her shivering body against his in the confines of their shared cell, murmuring in her ear that he was sorry. And she knew he meant it. Even if his mind barely recognized her, his heart always did.

Sam questioned Steve loudly, causing Florence to flinch as she fell back down to reality, “How is that even possible, that was 70 years ago.” Florence felt bad for Sam, he just jumped headfirst into a dark world with more questions than answers.

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. Florence, how are you even alive? Zola didn’t get to you before the fall?” Steve just asked the golden question.

Florence took a deep breath in, “I don’t know. There are gaps in time, I don’t remember much from it. They all said that the fall should have killed me but it didn’t. Then I became a lab rat. The end.”

Steve looked her directly in the eye for the first time the entire day, “They must have found him and…”

Natasha interrupted him, she knew where this conversation could lead, “None of that’s your fault, Steve.”

Florence shifted slightly, sharing a look with Natasha, silently thanking her for diverting the conversation.

Sam shifted beside her as another wave of blood oozed out from her shoulder, he turned to the guards, "We need to get a doctor here. If we don't put pressure on that wound, she's gonna bleed out here in the truck." Florence appreciated Sam’s protective and caring nature as Steve continued glaring daggers her way. Florence knew Steve wouldn’t understand her reasoning, too set in his ways of complete honesty all of the time. He didn’t understand what it meant to lie to keep those you loved safe.

The nearest guard flinched forward, flashing the taser at Sam before turning the taser on the second guard and kicking him unconscious. The guard pulled the helmet off of themselves, revealing Maria Hill, “God, that thing was squeezing my brain.” She motioned at Sam, “Who is this guy?” Everyone shared a collective sigh of relief at the sight of Maria.

After ditching the car, the team arrived at an undisclosed location. The doors of the truck opened, allowing sunlight to flood in. Steve helped Florence down from the truck, supporting her weight with ease. Blood continued to trickle from her shoulder as she leaned against him for support as Steve spoke while he half carried her forward into the building, “I’m not mad. I get why you didn’t tell me.”

Florence laughed slightly, her body weak, “Are you just saying that because I got shot and I’m currently bleeding out all over you?”

Steve scoffed, his body vibrating with the action, arm tightening around her, “No, Flo.”

Behind her and Steve, Sam called out for a doctor. People ran towards them from the opposite end of the hall, Maria Hill speaking over the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall, "Natasha, there's something you're going to wanna see. Steve, get Florence patched up."

The group broke apart for a short period of time, Natasha reappearing with a hopeful expression on her face as Florence grimaced in pain next to the doctor stitching her up, "Fury is alive."

All eyes remained on Natasha as she explained how Fury was alive, a medication Bruce Banner had come up with did the trick to fake his death. Florence looked to Sam as he digested this information, he didn’t know what he got himself into. She could feel Steve's eyes boring into her head, but she didn't dare look. Her mind was a constant loop of Bucky.

Flashback:

His calloused hand led her through the crowd of people, Steve trailing far behind. The trio had just gotten finished dancing and now they were wandering aimlessly through the busy streets of Queens. The air was brisk as it blew through Florence’s auburn hair, her dress fluttering around her calves. Bucky stopped in front of a movie theater, the lights casting a warm glow over his face as he turned to face the girl. Her cheeks were blushed pink from the chill of the air and a smile had been permanently etched on her face all night.

The news that Bucky was being shipped off in the morning loomed over them like a rain cloud but Bucky was determined to keep her smiling; at least until the morning. His hand abandoned hers, reaching down to fish in his pocket. He found what he was looking for quickly, the velvet box small in his hand. Florence gasped at soon as the box came into the light, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew what this was, she accidentally stumbled upon it when she was putting away clothes last week. A small emerald ring.

Bucky knelt down on one knee, flipping the box open, “Flo, you’ve been by my side through everything. You’re my best girl, always there keeping me in line. I love you more than words can say. I know I leave tomorrow and I should have done this years ago, but will you make me that luckiest man on earth and marry me?”

Florence flew into Bucky’s arms in a flurry of kisses and agreements, Bucky lifting her up and twirling her. He gently set her back on the ground, slipping the ring on her finger as she giggled. Bucky met her eyes, tears glimmering in them, “I promise you, when I get back you and I will get married, we’ll buy a house and we’ll make it a happy home; kids, dogs, a garden, all of it. I promise you.” By the end of Bucky’s promise, both he and Florence were crying in each other’s arms, each one clutching the other tightly, both hyper-aware that the future wasn’t promised.

Steve stumbled his way through the large crowd, catching sight of his two best friends hugging each other. He didn’t have the heart to break them up at the moment, so he watched on with a smile. It would all be okay.

Bucky sat in the test chair underneath the bank piecing the remnants of his memories together. He knew them. The man knew his name, or at least what he thought was his name. And he knew the girl he shot, memories of her smiling flickered through his mind. Yet they were complete strangers, their faces foreign yet home all at the same time.

Alexander Pierce was terrified of this day, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He knew of the attachment Bucky had to the Winter Widow, ever since she disappeared in ‘91, the soldier was harder to control, more agitated and violent. He screamed her name in his sleep and when they wiped him he was always mumbling about her when he became coherent. They tried to program it out of him, and when that didn’t work, they tried to beat it out of him, hoping she would vanish from his memories the way his blood washed down the drain. Nothing ever worked. The Winter Soldier was irrevocably in love with Florence Morozov and Alexander was going to use that against him.

The Winter Soldier’s mission was to kill Steve Rogers and Florence Morozov.

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED. IF YOU ENJOYED, PLEASE REBLOG.

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