#storm is gonna have close to the same stripe markings as him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bananaink · 4 years

Text

KeGo December Day 8 - Obsessed

“For fucks sake, just take one!”

Izuku frowned, deep and in thought but refused to flinch when Bakugou kicked him in the shins. Instead he blindly kicked back, hitting thin air.

“Shut up, let me think...”

“They look all he same, just take the black one.”

“He already has this one!”, Izuku said exasperated and eyed the figurine in question. Bakugou in turn leaned forward, disdain on his face and growled at the display.

“Then get him a second one! That old bat doesn’t care anyway.”

“But he does! He loves these things; he has like a dazillion of them!”

“Then why the fuck do you even think of getting him another one?!”

“Because!”, Izuku cried and ruffled his own hair with both hands, desperately trying to remember which one he had seen in Aizawas hidden collection and which he hadn’t.

“He loves these things! Every time we pass this shop he stops and glares at them!”

“Yeah, cause glaring is the equivalent of love, dumbass.”

“Glaring, gazing, dozing, it’s basically all the same so shut up and let me think.”

“You’ve been thinking for an hour. I almost whish for a villain to try and kidnap us right now. Haven’t tried in a week, lazy fuckers.”

Izuku frowns and looks at Bakugou, finally taking his eyes off the display.

“You don’t mean that.”

“The longer this takes the more I’m meaning it.”

Bakugou pointed to the red figurine with the yellow stripes.

“Take this one. It’s red, it has stripes, looks like fire.”

Izuku shook his head.

“No, he bought that last week.”, he said and Bakugou threw his hands in the air, letting lose a few sparks and air-strangling the ceiling, while Izuku almost pressed his nose against the glass. The wild cursing at his side made him a little jittery but the blonde just pointed to the next one.

“Then this green fucker! Looks disgustingly cute and shit.”

Izuku didn't even bother looking at it for more than a second.

“Nope, already has that.”

Now the blonde was getting really angry, because he kicked Izuku in the back of his knees and growled close to his face: “This is taking too freaking long, just buy the whole shelf and be fucking done with it!”

“I don’t have the money for that either.”

Bakugou swore some more, kicking Izuku in intervals and disturbing the other shoppers around them, but Izuku was on a mission. Bakugou didn’t have to come with him, complaining loudly about this whole freaking ordeal actually, but since the Kamino Ward thing he had been almost overbearingly attached to Izuku. Asking where he went, checking in on random occasions and even picking him up for their weekly meals with his mom. It wasn’t quite annoying yet but Izuku still didn’t know what he should be thinking about that so he chose to let his eyes roam the many figurines decorating the display. Big ones, small ones, colorful ones, black and white, cute, angry, playful...

“How about this one?”

Following Bakugous pointed finger, Izukus eyes fell on a small, yellow one, hiding behind the bigger brown figurine, curled around its tail. Izuku stared at it and tried to remember if he had seen this one on Aizawas hidden shelf or not. He couldn’t tell.

Interested, Izuku leaned more forward – nose pushing against the glass – and splayed his hands on the cool surface to focus better.

The figurine was as big as his hand, the detailed face open in a big yawn and tongue pink and curled. The yellow fur looked soft to the touch but Izuku knew they were made from some kind of shiny stone, polished and worked to look like miniature versions of their feline originals. The little body stretched its spine and the tail curled in the air like a hook, some orange markings at the end of it. A beautiful little yellow cat.

“That’s a good one!” Izuku breathed against the glass and Bakugou threw his head back.

“Thank fuck! Let’s just get this over with.”

Then Izukus eyes fund the prize-tag, hidden under the paws with their little bean-toes. His heart sank.

“Oh, uh...”

“What? What is it now?!”

Shifting his feet and frowning again, Izuku gnawed at his bottom lip until Bakugou kicked the words out of him.

“It’s, um... I don’t have this much...”, he confessed to the seething blonde and Bakugou pushed his shoulder against his to shove him away and take a closer look himself. Izuku froze and held his breath.

“What? That’s pathetic.”, he snarled and turned his burning gaze right into Izukus eyes. This close he was just about to give into his impulse to slap him away, but Bakugou just scrunched up his nose and showed teeth in a growl.

“I’m not gonna stand here any longer until you decide on another one. We’re taking this.”

And then he marched into the shop, leaving a baffled Izuku behind.

“Uh, no, wait!”, he lamely yelled and hastily caught up to him. Bakugou was already at the register cursing at the employee to hurry the fuck up and throwing money at the guy.

“Bakugou wait! That’s too much! I can’t pay for that!”

“You won’t!”, Bakugou yelled back and the poor guy behind the register quickly put the cat into a box full of paper to cushion the figurine. Izuku ran up to Bakugou and kicked him in the back of his knees, making him flail his arms a little.

“You fucker-”

“We can’t steal it!”, Izuku exclaimed and the clerk looked at them confused, eyeing the money Bakugou had thrown onto the register. Little explosions popped in Bakugous hands as he threw a heated growl over his shoulder.

“Dumbass, I’m paying.”

“But-”

“I’m loaning you the money, alright, not freaking buying shit for you free of fucking charge.”

Bakugou swiped the box out of the clerks hands and stuffed the change into his pants pockets as he stormed out of the shop. Izuku trailed right behind him, confusion stapled onto his face.

“But-”, he wanted to start again while he tried to keep up with Bakugous long legs.

“No buts, you idiot! We’d be still ogling fucking plastic cats like losers if it weren’t for me putting an end to my misery.”

“They aren’t plastic.”

Izuku flinched, as Bakugou stopped abruptly and held the box out.

“There. Take it. I expect to be repaid, asshole.”

Unsure with the turn this little birthday-gift-shopping had taken, Izuku eyed the box. Cat paws littered the surface and the logo of the shop decorated proudly the entire left side of the package. Bakugou just huffed and pressed the box against Izukus sternum, growling.

“Take. It. And just to be clear – I did this for me, not for you. Or for your cat-obsessed-hobo-dad.”

Izuku took the package from Bakugous smoldering hands and frowned at him, displeased with the way Bakugou talked about his guardian. But he was also a little bit happy about Bakugou and his not-favor, helping Izuku with his birthday-gift. So, he tried to muffle his instinct to defend Aizawa and followed Bakugou out of the shopping center back to the dorms, hugging the box to his chest.

“He’s not a hobo.”

________________________

Yes! I made another day! This one was a little bit harder because I had something else planned and then didn’t feel like writing it. So I changed everything last minute and now I ended up with this :D

Hope you like it! Check out the prompts over here and my AO3 over here :D

And also please check out @banashee and her stuff!!! She’s on the right day while I’m trying to catch up already :’D

#BNHA au #imprint au #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #gift-shopping #nerds #kego december #day 8 #i love their dynamic

106 notes · View notes

lixiescheesestick · 5 years

Text

a/n: guess who is back benches.

genre: smut/fluff

warning: smutty but gets a fluffy end 😔

words: 900

pairing: Jisung x Reader

[10:40]

Just for fun. That is what it was supposed to be. No feelings, no relationship, nothing. Just two friends fucking around to relive of stress. Well, that was what it was supposed to be.

Your friend Jisung and you had this friends with benefits relationship going on for months and if you were honest, who wouldn't catch feelings for the squirrel like boy? Always looking out for you, making sure you stayed healthy even when uni was taking a toll on you, making sure you were never too hurt after getting out of a quite toxic friendship, and obviously providing you with pleasure and stress relief.

And those feelings were no different when he stormed into your dorm tonight, pulling you into an angry make out session, instantly picking you up and taking you to your bedroom.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you tonight, baby." he said as he threw you onto the bed roughly, crawling onto you to continue where he left off. His hands slowly made their way up your pyjama shirt, tweaking your nipples when he reached them, then taking off your shirt completely. "Fuck, your body is always so perfect and ready when I come over." he gruted as he began leaving a trail of hickeys and bite marks down your chest, his hand now going down, sliding into your shorts and very lightly massaging your clit. You moaned as you grabbed at his hair, your back arching pushing Jisung further into your cleavage. "F-fuck, Sung…" you moaned out, "That's it baby, moan my name." he said, continuing to suck at your breasts again after.

Your hands went down his chest, all the way down to the hem of his shirt where you tugged it up. He instantly got the hint and ripped his shirt off, his body instantly making you wetter than you were previously. Before going back to do anything, he stared your body down with a lustful gaze, and another emotion he had never had in his eyes during your sex together. "You are so beautiful…" he trailed before taking off your shorts. He groaned when he realized you were wearing no panties underneath. He went down and began pecking and nipping at your inner thighs, knowing how desperate you get. "Sung, s-stop teasing.." you groaned out, knowing he was testing you.

Instead of dragging it all out, he listened to your command and licked a long stripe up your slit, his tongue hitting your clit towards the top and which you moaned out loudly. At that he instantly went closer, wrapping his arms around the back of your thighs and sucking at your clit, making you moan out his name like a mantra. "Fuck, Jisung I'm gonna cum." "Then fucking cum." he said, the authority in his voice making your climax come quicker.

He licked up all your cum before coming back up, and pulling you into a kiss, your juices and both your saliva mixing up and making a mess. He lined up with your entrance, lightly pushing his tip into you, making you moan into his mouth. Not being able to control himself after that, he instantly bottomed out, making you scream his name slightly, not expecting it as he groaned. "We fuck so much, yet you are still so tight. So perfect baby." he said, pulling out and sinking back in, his cock hitting deep in you. It was slower than usual, more loving and careful as if you were porcelain that would break in touched incorrectly. His slow, pleasuring pace went up until you came, him coming as he rode out your high.

He pulled out, chuckling when you whine at his cum spilling out of you. "Let's get you cleaned up." he said as he got up and got a cloth from the bathroom, being gentle when he wiped your body down. He slipped his shirt onto you before you could curl up in a ball and sleep. It confused you for a second and confused you more as he got into bed with you and wrapped his arms around you.

"I wanted to tell you this before the sex, really, but I was so frustrated and afraid of what you will say I just had to cherish today in case you thought differently." You turned around, so that you were now lying face to face. "Y/N, I love you. I know this was supposed to be a 'no strings attached' kind of thing but I can't help it.. I mean, look at you." he said, stroking down the side of your body, watching his hand trail.

You cupped his cheek and brought it up so he was looking at you. "Han Jisung, you really are something." you said, switching your gaze from his eyes to his slightly swollen lips. "I love you too." you said, as you leaned in. He moved the last inch locking you both in a passionate kiss. It felt great to have your weight be lifted off your chest, and it was even better knowing Jisung felt the same way as you did.

You both pulled away smiling, looking into eachothers eyes. "Be mine?" he asked, and without hesitation you answered, "Of course."

With that, you both drifted off to sleep, holding each other as close as possible, you now knowing you can forever be with the one you truly love.

267 notes · View notes

wemultitudinous · 4 years

Text

@kingofdirtandnothing asked: hands off. our muses attempting bondage for the first time (light).

NSFW PROMPTS // ACCEPTING

Alex has always been remarkably easygoing when it comes to people’s kinks.

He might joke that his own kink is getting other people off, whatever that might involve, but when it comes down to it, it’s not all that far off the truth. He wants to be what people want, to be the thing that gets them off, to be good at it.

(More importantly, to be praised for being good at it, but that’s something he doesn’t examine all too closely if he can help it.)

So when John breaks out some scarves and waggles his eyebrows and says “let’s do something kinky,” in what is—for him—a strikingly bold and open invitation, Alex is all too willing to lift his arms above his head and let John knot the scarves around his wrist and the headboard. John kisses him, too brief, and Alex whines as he tries to chase John’s mouth when he pulls away, kept in place by the scarves.

Alex can feel that champagne-fizz feeling spreading through his blood, the heat already building beneath his skin, and his dark eyes watch John with an intent and heavy focus, hungry. He’s already half-hard, just with the anticipation.

And then John picks up his phone and begins scrolling, which really ought to have been Alex’s first warning sign.

“Are you googling for instructions?” Alex asks, wryly. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need them. You’ve proven yourself plenty proficient in the past.”

“Hm?” John says, and then glances up. “Nah, I’m on Twitter.”

“Well don’t ask Twitter for instructions,” Alex snorts. “They’re a bunch of weirdos. C’mon, John, get back over here.”

John grins.

“Real sadism is you not being allowed on your phone,” he says, smug and wicked. Alex stares at him in disbelief, feeling cheated in more ways than one. “Oh look. Jefferson just tweeted something stupid about the economy, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You absolute fucking monster,” Alex intones, with very real feeling. He pulls against his restraints, but John made the knots good and tight, and there’s nothing he can do except wriggle and struggle against them. “I swear to god next time your dick is in my mouth, I’m gonna bite it.”

“It’s already got like fifty likes,” John says. “And nobody is contradicting him.”

Alex practically howls in frustration, and the champagne-fizz has gone entirely flat, any arousal chased away by John’s laughter and Alex’s own mad frustration. John lets it go on for about ten minutes he relents and frees Alex’s wrists; Alex smacks him, open-palmed, on the chest a couple of times before he pushes John over onto his back and loops the scarves around his wrists, instead.

John doesn’t seem particularly displeased by this development. Alex tugs on them a few times, making sure the scarves are secure but not too tight, and then sits himself across John’s middle, looking down at him.

“You’re the worst,” Alex says, gravely.

“Is this your revenge?” John asks, sounding more hopeful than otherwise. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then Alex smiles. Innocent, beatific, and that should have been John’s first warning sign.

“Absolutely,” he says, and kisses John with a filthy, searching focus that leaves him gasping, fingers flexing and straining and completely unable to touch. Alex pushes John’s shirt up, rakes blunt fingernails down his chest and follows the path with lips and teeth and tongue. He sucks and bites a few marks against John’s skin, knowing how he feels about them, and shuffles his way further down John’s body as he goes. Wriggles his ass deliberately against John’s hard-on and grins at the groan it rips from John’s chest.

He divests John of his pants and his boxers briskly, efficiently, and sets to work with his mouth and hands with a dedicated fervour that has John writhing underneath him. John’s no stranger, by this point, to any of this—but now Alex sets to his task with a purpose and a focused dedication that he’s never utilised before, his only goal getting John right to the edge just as quickly as he can. Above him, John curses up a storm, moaning and gasping and tugging his arms against their restraints. And just when he’s digging in his heels and his breath is dancing in his chest, muscles starting to lock and release—

—Alex pulls away. He works his jaw a little, hums in satisfaction, and retreats to the end of the bed, where John had left his phone. Picks it up. Starts scrolling. John, breathless, lets his head fall back against the pillows.

“C’mon baby,” he pleads. “I get it. I’m sorry. Please.”

“Please what?” Alex asks, mildly.

“Please come back here and touch me some more,” John asks, voice all husky and rough and beautiful. “Put your mouth back on me?”

It’s all syrup and sex and when Alex looks up, John’s got those beautiful hazel eyes, half-hooded, fixed on him. There’s colour high on his cheeks and his hair is a wild mess. It’s quite the picture.

“Sorry,” Alex says. “I’ve got to catch up on Twitter.”

He gives it ten minutes. Seems fair. John runs his mouth when Alex slides his hands up John’s thighs, settles his thumbs into the divots above his hips, and licks a delicate stripe up John’s dick, all gratitude and relief and stumbling words. Once again, he sets to work, keeping a careful eye on John and the way his eyes flutter shut, the way his teeth dig hard into his pretty bottom lip, the way he’s got his fingers hooked around the scarves and clinging on for dear life.

Clever tongue puts itself to good use, teasing and testing, and he quickly abandons his grip on John’s thighs to far more useful tasks.

The second time he backs off suddenly, John growls.

“Damn it, Alex,” he says, voice even more wrecked than it had been before, feet planted on the bed and hips pushing upward in the hope of finding that last bit of friction, a final touch that will let him come.

“I just have so much to catch up on,” Alex says, all angelic. “If only I hadn’t been kept away from Twitter earlier, I’d have more time to finish what I was doing.”

“I think I’d rather you’d just bitten my dick,” John says bleakly, twisting his wrists to no avail. Alex, who usually doesn’t have the patience or self-control for these kind of games but is nothing if not petty and spiteful, presses the heel of his palm idly against his own hardness, shuddering at the pressure, and keeps scrolling.

The third time, John is a mess of incoherent curses, practically thrashing in place.

“Motherfucker,” he rasps out. “Bastard son of a whore, vete al demonio, motherbitch.”

“That’s a new one,” Alex observes.

“Fuck,” John whines, tortured and desperate.

This time, though, Alex doesn’t pick up the phone. Instead, with the same brisk efficiency with which he’d set upon John earlier, he begins to work himself open on his fingers. He holds John’s hungry gaze unabashedly as he does so, smirk nestled against his lips at the heavy rise-and-fall of John’s chest, the openly pleading look on his face.

It’s not long before he’s bracing one hand on John’s chest and using the other to guide John into him, sinking down slow and steady until he’s bottomed out and the same sharp breath is punched both from him and from John. And then, he waits.

“Alex,” John begs.

“Do you promise never to misuse Twitter during sex again?” Alex asks.

“I would promise you literally anything right now to get you to move,” John says, voice tense and taut.

“So promise,” Alex demands.

“Fuck, I promise, okay?”

Alex closes his eyes and circles his hips, tight and dirty, and revels in the whining mess of a noise that spills from John’s hips. Finally, Alex lets himself just give into his own wants, and takes the strain in his hips as he pushes up and lets himself back down, head tipped back and only half-missing John’s hands at his hips because the thankful praise rolling over him like a tide is replacement enough.

#kingofdirtandnothing #cut for length whoops #you already know what's coming ehehe #i couldn't resist #you should know better than to vaguely mention things at me #i will take them and run #&. hamilton #&. hamilton//drabbles #&. hamilton//v: modern #&. sinday #&. queue

1 note · View note

witcherislovewitcherislife · 5 years

Text

Steggy Week 2019 - Day 7: Free Choice

I decided to write some smut for Day 7. Shocker. I had a lot of old drafts that had various smut in them so I combined them and added some new stuff to make this. I hope you all enjoy!

What a wonderful experience my first Steggy Week has been too. I loved seeing and reading all the new fanfics, artwork, posts, and edits. I still have a lot to catch up on too! I hope you all have enjoyed my contributions! :D

Paris Nights

Read on AO3

Celebrations were roaming all throughout the city and really all throughout the country. After a week long battle and years long struggle, Paris was free from Nazi control.

The French Resistance, Allied Forces, and the SSR drove back the Nazis, reclaiming the city of Paris.

Everyone was celebrating, people from all walks of life, men and women, children and adults, young and old, rich and poor, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that they were free once again.

Fireworks boomed in the sky and the Eiffel Tower was illuminated bright. Songs were being sung in the streets and taverns alike.

The Commandos were drinking and singing away while playing a rowdy game of cards. Peggy noticed Steve make some goodbyes and sneak out of the room before anyone could stop him. She found Steve sketching away from a balcony atop the hotel the SSR was being stationed at.

“There you are. I thought maybe you’d turned in for the night.”

Steve was startled by the intrusion but he didn’t seem to mind, “Oh, uh, no. Just needed some fresh air.”

“Can I see what you’re drawing?” Peggy asked, nodding her head towards his sketchbook.

Steve walked the few steps over to her and handed the book to her, “Just the Eiffel Tower, there is a great view from here.”

“I see that. This is really lovely, Steve. You have a real talent.”

Steve blushed at her kind words and averted his eyes. Peggy always had that effect on him when she complimented him.

Peggy reached a silky gloved hand to his cheek and turned his face back towards her.

“Seems we’re finally alone.”

“Seems we are.”

Their lips met instantly and the sketchbook fell to the floor as Steve engulfed Peggy’s lithe body with his broad arms.

They pulled back breathless after who knows how long. Both were panting and red faced, Steve had lipstick marks on the corners of his lips that Peggy reached up to rub away with a grin on her face.

“I’m so happy we can do that outside of cramped offices, storage closets, or some old couples farmhouse in the countryside.”

Peggy giggled and it was the most beautiful sound Steve had heard, “Yes, well. We shouldn’t dally out here too long. Someone might come along and ruin our fun.”

“Too late!” A voice piped up from the glass doorway, startling both Steve and Peggy.

“Dugan. How nice of you to join us. Or rather, interrupt us. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long enough to see any of the good stuff,” he said, earning a sharp glare from Peggy. “Well, I was gonna see if you two lovebirds wanted to play some billiards but I don’t think that’s as fun as what you two are about to do.”

“And what is it that we’re about to do, Timothy?”

“Uh, oh. The full name. That’s never good. I’ll just be going now. You two kids keep it down!” Dugan said, half laughing, adding, “And use protection!” when he was safely out of Peggy’s shooting range.

“Remind me to kick him in the ass,” Peggy joked.

“Will do.”

They grew silent again, just staring into each other’s eyes before Peggy cupped his cheek again. Steve leaned into the touch as Peggy leaned up and brought her mouth to his ear.

“Take me to bed, Steve.”

Steve didn’t need to be asked twice, he took Peggy’s hand and led her off the balcony, down the hall and to his room.

“Is this the honeymoon sweet?” Peggy inquired as she stepped into the room. It was about four times the size of a regular room and had a separate living room area as well as a small kitchen with a breakfast nook. Glass sliding doors at the back of the room led out to another small balcony that had a table and chairs atop it.

To the right, there was a large bathroom with double sinks, a large tub big enough for three at least, a toilet, and a shower adorned with beautiful light brown tiling. Peggy felt that a shower and tub was excessive, seeing as how most homes nor hotels even had showers but she wasn’t going to complain. She’d never gotten to properly enjoy a shower before, only getting to use one at base camps.

In the center of the room there was a large circular bed covered in fluffy pillows and a blood red comforter. Peggy was incredibly looking forward to doing a lot more than just sleeping in it.

“Uh, yeah, the honeymoon sweet. Howard got it for me. He thought it’d be funny.”

“Well, I suppose I should thank him. I think this bed is a lot better than any other in this hotel. Shall we?

Steve didn’t respond, instead opting to act before his words could get in the way of what he wanted to do.

He placed his hands on Peggy’s hips and pulled her close, kissing her with intensity.

Peggy’s mouth moved to his neck, she bit and sucked at it, leaving bruises that she knew would be gone by morning but she liked seeing how his skin looked painted with them.

Peggy bit that spot under his ear and Steve let out a low groan as his head fell back. Peggy leaned up and tugged on his earlobe before she spoke again.

Speaking slowly and quietly, Peggy whispered into his ear, “I’ve thought of you on so many cold nights, Steve.”

Steve swallowed audibly before he choked out, “Tell me.”

“How shall I? With excruciating detail?”

Steve could hardly speak. He found his mouth dry from Peggy’s seduction, “Details. Please. Every last one.”

Peggy spoke slowly and quietly, making sure that Steve’s heightened hearing be put to full use.

“When I lay alone in my bunk, I’d lift my slip up to my waste. Slide my hand down my stomach and under my red cotton panties.

Steve’s mouth went dry, “Keep going.”

Peggy’s hands were keeping occupied by threading through Steve’s hair, massaging his scalp lightly as his hands gripped her waist, sure to leave bruises that she so wanted, “I’d spread my folds, slide my digits into my soaking cunt. Moan your name as I fucked myself.”

‘Fuck, Peggy.”

“I’d cum screaming your name into my pillow. My fingers would be covered in my wetness and I’d suck them dry, imagining your mouth instead of my own.”

“Please, Peggy…” Steve didn’t even know what he was saying please for. All he knew was that his cock was throbbing and needed relief.

Peggy kissed his collarbone and pulled his shirt out of where it was tucked into his trousers and began to unbutton it.

Peggy slid his now unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and down his muscular arms. Her hands moved to his abs, rubbing them and digging her nails into the toned muscle. She was always amazed at how soft his skin still managed to be despite the muscle. Peggy bent slightly and flicked her tongue over his nipple before taking it in her mouth making Steve yelp and jump in surprise.

She gave each nipple attention before licking a stripe down his abdomen and kneeling down in front of him. This used to be the part when Steve would say “You don’t have to do this.” But after Peggy made it very clear that she wanted and loved to do this to him, he finally shut up saying it.

She eyed up the growing bulge in his pants. The outline of his cock very evident in his tan trousers. Her eyes looked up at him, hers were filled with hunger desire and lust while Steve’s were already struggling to stay open at the sensation she was giving him.

She got the belt undone, the metal making a pleasant sound as it clinked together, and pulled his pants down first, revealing his red and white striped boxer briefs. They were bunched up from being constricted in his trousers the whole day. They were tented slightly but mostly his cock was angled down and nearly hanging out of the bottom. She could see the outline of his shaft and the fabric above the tip was partially damp from his precum. Peggy used the palm of her hand to rub up and down his shaft before she kissed him through the fabric before pulling them down around his ankles as well. He stepped out of both as Peggy took him in hand, giving him a few warm-up strokes before her real fun began.

Her thumb touched his pelvis right above his cock, she rubbed through his short, neatly trimmed pubic hair. She hummed appreciatively, glad that he took care to do so, knowing that she hated too much body hair on a man.

The slit of Steve's cock was shiny and oozing. Peggy licked up the underside of his cock, starting at his balls all the way to the tip, flicking her tongue when she reached the top. She left her tongue on the bottom of the head, twisting and flicking it teasingly. Precum was dripping into her mouth slowly, the same way rain dripped off a gutter after a storm. She loved the taste far more than actual cum and lucky for her, Steve was like a faucet for it.

Peggy took his head into her mouth first, sucking deeply and sharply on it before sliding her mouth down further. She took him as far as she could, keeping her mouth planted firmly on him when he sat sheathed in her mouth. She could feel his cock pulsing and growing to it’s hardest state inside her mouth and it made her panties soak up more than they already were. She reached down and rubbed herself through her skirt, giving her momentary relief from the ache between her legs.

Peggy moaned around his cock and Steve reciprocated one above her, his head lolling back.

She pulled her mouth back agonizingly slow, making sure no part of Steve’s shaft went unloved. Peggy released him with a pop before diving back in quickly. Her mouth moved faster this time, up and down his length in quick succession. She made sure her tongue kept moving, licking the parts of his cock that her lips weren’t touching.

Steve’s hands threaded through her hair, he didn’t pull or yank, they just sat there in her silky brunette curls. She could tell by his sped up labored breathing that he was close. Peggy sped up her ministrations, adding her hand to the end of his length to touch every part of him until he exploded into her mouth. She took every last drop from him, more so to not leave a mess on the hotel room carpet rather than actually enjoying the taste.

Peggy pulled off him again and gave him a few last pumps before rising back to her feet and tilting her head up to kiss Steve. He gave in to the kiss easily, his tongue battling with Peggy’s for control. He tasted himself on her lips and tongue and loved every bit of it.

They kissed for a few minutes before Steve backed Peggy up and pushed her down onto the comfy bed. She couldn’t help but be turned on by his sudden roughness.

She got on his knees and threw Peggy’s legs over his shoulders.

“Wow, Captain. Someone’s hungry.”

Steve response was more of a grunt than words as he wasted no time hooking his finger in the band of her panties..They were red and lacy, see through in parts like right above her center. Peggy had picked them out specifically for the point of seduction and she was glad that Steve took the time to properly appreciate them. He pulled them down and tossed them onto the chair across the room. Peggy was neatly trimmed as well, a simple stripe of brunette hair was neatly manicured above her core.

Steve leaned in and licked a stripe up her core, from her entrance to her clit. Peggy moaned and Steve repeated both motions. He gradually sped up as Peggy’s noises grew louder. It all felt too slow for Peggy and clearly Steve could tell because he dove in, ravaging her cunt like an animal.

Peggy’s whole body quivered as his tongue and mouth devoured her. Her back arched and fell rhythmically. Steve’s hand moved up to cup her breasts but not for long as Peggy’s body was spasming in pleasure uncontrollably. His left hand moved to hold her stomach and his right was on her waist. Holding her in place while his tongue slid deep into her cunt and back out again multiple times. His nose touching her pubic hair, occasionally rubbing against her clit when he sped up his rhythms.

Steve traced the letter “z” along her pussy with his tongue. Starting at the clit and working his way to her entrance, slipping in momentarily and then tracing back up to her clit.

Peggy was getting close, her ragged breaths and raspy moans filling the room and seeping out onto the balcony through the crack where the door was open. If there was any neighbors in the room next door, they were getting quite the audio show.

A wave rumbled through Peggy as she exploded. Her back came flying off the mattress as she let out a shout, cumming hard onto Steve’s eager tongue. She fell back instantly as Steve continued licking her, riding through the waves with her until her body went limp on the red blanket.

Steve crawled up above her on the bed and kissed her passionately, “I love you, Peggy,” he whispered.

“Steve, oh, Steve. I love you.”

They kissed for a long time before Peggy could feel Steve’s growing hardness poking her, “I need you, Steve.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said in that special voice reserved only for her ears.

Steve gripped his length and slid into Peggy’s warmth. It felt like sliding him after hitting a ball into deep right in the ninth inning.

They both let out low moans as Steve started thrusting slowly. Peggy’s arms wrapped around him and her red nails dug into his flesh.

Steve’s pace sped up slowly until he was fucking into her at a quick pace, Steve knelt back just enough to wrap his mouth around Peggy’s nipple. His hand cupped her other breast and kneaded the soft mound. His thrusts slowed but the pleasure she was getting from him paying her breasts extra attention more than made up for it.

Steve sat up, holding Peggy’s body close to him, her breasts squishing up against his chest as their nipples rubbed together.

He pulled her into a sitting position, her back straight and legs stretched out fully on either side of him. She was fully sitting in his lap.

Peggy began grinding up against him. There was no room for thrusting, it was just rubbing and grinding and having Steve filling her was delicious. The bed shook with their movements and they both moaned into each other’s ears.

Steve kept his arms wrapped tightly around Peggy as he moved to his knees and laid her down on her back. He took her right leg and flipped her. Steve arranged himself between her legs and slid back into her soaking cunt.

Steve began thrusting into her quickly, the sounds of his pelvis slapping into her ass downright filthy and beautiful at the same time.

Peggy made a loud choked sob and sucked in a harsh breathy moan. Steve stopped his motions and reached around to cradle her face in his palm.

“Peggy, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, no, Steve! Please, keep going! You feel so fucking good,” her words were strained but she got out what she needed to say for him to begin thrusting into her again.

He sped up again and her back arched as if she was a gymnast. She continued making those same moans and groans but this time Steve wasn’t stopping. And she couldn’t be more thrilled.

Her whole body was on fire. She was sore and tired and yet she never wanted to stop. She wanted the ache he gave her. Never wanted his cock to leave her. She wanted him inside always. Wanted him thrusting into her for hours and hours. And with his super-soldier stamina, it was a possibility. She loved the weight of him on top of her. Loved his moans into her ear. Loved the way a bead of sweat would occasionally drip from his forehead and chest onto her back.

She couldn’t explain it. Her relationship with Steve was about so much more than physical attraction. And yet, here they were, naked in a hotel room, and the primal love they had for one another took over.

Steve gripped Peggy’s shoulder and straightened his back, allowing him to fuck deeper into her pussy.

The mattress engulfed Peggy’s choked sobs, her red lipstick smeared on the white pillows and the sheets were stained with evidence of their love.

Steve arched back over Peggy, he was almost laying atop her but was careful not to collapse his wait on her. His mouth moved to her ear and he sucked her earlobe into his mouth before moaning her name.

The second Steve reached his arm around to rub her clit, she screamed his name as her walls clenched, trapping his cock inside her. Her orgasm had a chain reaction, causing Steve to empty himself inside her.

Peggy rolled over in his arms and cupped Steve’s face.

Steve hovered above her, his arm wrapped around her upper back. Both of them were breathing heavily and both were covered in a sheen layer of sweat as well. The moonlight shining in through the window glistened off of Peggy’s skin, Steve thought she looked like an angel in that moment. Well, even more so than usual.

A bead of sweat rolled down Steve’s forehead and dripped onto Peggy’s cheek.

“Sorry,” Steve said, wiping the bead away with the pad of his thumb.

Peggy just smiled and teased, “Steve, I just had your cock in my mouth. I can handle some sweat.”

Steve laid his head down on her chest. She was still breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling every few seconds.

“Gods, look what you do to me, Peg. I can run ten miles without slowing down, But one round with you damn near puts me out.”

“That was a bit more than one round.”

“Guess I lost track after you made me cum the first time.”

Peggy’s hands went into Steve’s sweat soaked hair. Naturally his hair was blonder but now it seemed almost brunette. It was disheveled and soaked and a few thick strands fell over his forehead like they had when he was that little man in basic training.

“We forgot protection, you know.”

“I know. It’s fine, it isn’t my time.”

“Do you think we should have waited? For this, I mean. Until the war was fully over?” Steve asked into the darkness as he rubbed up and down Peggy’s arm.

“We’re young. And we’re alive. We should take all the pleasure we can out of these horrid times. I don’t regret this.---Do you?”

“Not one bit.” Steve said as they drifted off in each other”

22 notes · View notes

nerdydungeonhound · 5 years

Text

Bad At Love Ch. 2

SMUT WARNING! DRUG TRIGGER WARNING.

https://killer-sixx96.tumblr.com/post/184886254243/bad-at-love-ch-1

——————————————————————————————————————

There were so many people in the room, but the only one he was honed in on was Dani. Even while in a lip lock with another woman, what was her name again? It didn’t matter, she would be gone in no time anyway. Dani was staring at him, a scowl on her face that he hadn’t seen before. Suddenly, her attention was grabbed by Tommy, who stumbled up to her. The woman he was with pulled away.

“Nikki? Hello? Are you still there?” The nameless woman said looking at him.

“Not really,” he said with virtually no emotion, a tone of voice that was common with him. She scoffed and let go of the collar of his leather jacket, calling him a jerk and storming off. Nikki was unfazed by this, it wasn’t the first time this had happened, by any means. Bottle in hand he took another swig, the brown liquid burning his throat slightly. He wondered if his staring at her was obvious, his gaze never truly leaving her. Tommy grabbed her arm and talked to her, he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the loud talking, and the music. Eventually he left her side, stumbling off to do another line, or see another girl. She looked back over at him and he smirked at her, she shot him a surprising wink and walked off to the kitchen.

He followed her, the alcohol taking away the nerves and inhibitions he normally has towards her. The kitchen was unusually empty for a big party like this. She was pouring a drink, slightly swaying, trying to keep her balance. He examined her dark eyes, focused on not spilling everywhere. He walked over to her. She seemed shocked by his interruption, why would she be? She was the one who winked at him.

“Hey, Nikki, what’s up?” She said swishing her cup around.

“Could ask you the same thing, darling,” he said slurring slightly and leaning on the counter beside her.

“Well it’s pretty obvious I’m getting myself another drink, I’m actually going to go outside to have a smoke, would you like to join me?” She asked leaning in his direction. He nodded his head, following her out of the window onto the balcony. The chilled night air felt good on his flushed skin. It rustled her curtain of black hair slightly away from her face. He could not stop staring at it. Like he expected it to change somehow. Dani lit up her smoke, extending her pack towards him, offering him one, which he gladly took and lit up as well.

“This is the best view of the strip, I love it here,” she spoke, snapping Nikki out of his trance.

“It is pretty nice, but it isn’t the best view out here,” he stated taking another drag. Dani looked in his direction lifting her eyebrow, taking a drag as well.

“Oh really? Do tell,” she said smiling slightly. His heart started racing. Fuck, why did he say that? There was no coming back from that.

“Have you seen yourself? Maybe you should sometime.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I would think that was an attempt at flirting, Mr. Sixx,” she said leaning on arm on the railing and looking at him smiling. The flush went directly up to his face, and he faced the road, trying to avoid her eyes for the first time tonight.

“What else would it be?” He said in an attempt to be nonchalant, there was no way Dani was buying it. She laughed lowly, looking at her feet. She inched closer to him, dropping her cigarette and stomping it out with her foot. She leaned in closer to whisper in his ear.

“Well, Its working, do it more often and we will see how things go,” she said walking away and slipping back inside. Nikki signed, rolling his eyes in bliss. This girl is gonna be the death of him.

Dani was blushing like a madman, that experience outside had to have been a booze driven hallucination. Her confidence came out of nowhere, must be the whisky talking. She looked at the clock and noticed it was already almost three in the morning. She had to back at the bar tomorrow night at 10. She figured a few more hours of partying couldn’t hurt. She joined Vince at a table where there were multiple lines of coke already lined out.

“You gonna partake, girl?” He asked holding out a straw to her, she nodded furiously grabbing it from his hand, “Go ahead, ladies choice.” Dani snorted the line, the rest of the group following suit. Dani noticed the girl she had saw Nikki with earlier was hanging off of Vince’s arm, of course she was. Most of the woman who hang around here operated in the same way, she for sure wasn’t special.

“By the way, Dani, where were you hiding that body back in high school?” Vince asked as the girl rolled her eyes at him. She seemed to be annoyed by the guys giving Dani more attention than they were giving to her.

“I didn’t have it!” Dani said giggling, as the coke was hitting her synapses, “I don’t know if you remember I was a total, chubby nerd!”

“Well I can say you really came into yourself, I see what he sees in you,” Vince said brushing her hair behind her ear. Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed his wrist. Dani glanced up and noticed Nikki had a hold of Vince, glaring at him. There seemed to be an unspoken conversation with looks between the two of them, Dani furrowed her brows at them. Vince pulled away, throwing his arms in the air in surrender. Nikki had this possessive look on his face, and the heat in Dani’s lower abdomen grew.

“You’re coming with me, darling,” Nikki said grabbing her hand and lifting her off of the chair, he leaned down and threw Dani over his shoulder, walking down the hallway towards his hopefully unoccupied bedroom. Dani laughed and squealed loudly all the way down the hallway, catching Tommy’s attention and he smiled to himself. Nikki carried her through the room’s threshold closing and locking the door behind him.

“Nikki, let me down!” Dani half yelled, smacking his backside lightly. He did as he was told and plopped Dani down on the bed with a thud. She propped herself up on her elbows looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. He was already leaning down to tower over her.

“Been waiting to do this since I met you,” He grumbled situating himself between her thighs. Dani leaned her head back and groaned.

“It never seemed like it,” She said as Nikki began to kiss and leave marks on her neck.

“Can’t you tell when someone is playing hard to get?” He said against her skin, as he played with the hem of her shirt, finally pulling it over her head. Kissing down her torso heating up her skin the whole way down. Once he reached her waistline he leaned up, taking his shirt off as well, moving his hair over one of his shoulders, then finally dipping back down to unbutton her shorts. He looked up at her to get the okay to continue, Dani nodded her head furiously, and he got to work undoing them and sliding them down her milky white legs. Once they were off, Dani involuntarily snapped her legs shut. Realizing what was happening in a moment of sober ness.

“I don’t think so,” Nikki said, grabbing her thighs and pulling them apart again. Dani blushed slightly peeling her stare away from him, “Don’t get all shy on me now. You’ve been a little tease all night.”

“Can’t you tell when someone is playing hard to get?” She said mocking him and smirking. He grabbed her panties and basically ripped them off at that comment, making her gasp.

“Don’t be like that, Dani,” He said kissing the inside of her legs, trailing up towards her center, “So fucking pretty.” His pants were almost unbearably tight seeing her like this, unraveled before him, unlacing them to get a slight release. Licking a hot stripe up her center, she let out a loud moan, causing Nikki to groan slightly and up the pace on her.

“Oh god, Nikki, it feels so good,” she purred, lacing her fingers in his raven locks, tugging on them slightly. He added a finger along with his feverish lapping, making Dani arch her back tilting her head back. Nikki couldn’t take it anymore, it needed to happen, now. He pulled away and stood up, causing her to whine. He slid out of his leather pants, springing free finally. He crawled back to his original position and put Dani’s face forward to look into her face.

“Are you ready?” He said lowly, and Dani hummed in agreement. He pushed into her slowly and she threw her head back in pleasure, Nikki squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

“Please, for god sakes, Nikki, move,” she whispered. Something snapped in his brain. his hips fell into a rhythm, like they fit together. The moans that were erupting from her full lips, almost drove Nikki over the edge. She tightened around him and ran her nails up his bare back, drawing blood, he was sure. There was sweat collecting between their bodies, as the bed springs creaked loudly. He reached down to rub circles on her clit quickly, causing Dani’s eyes to snap shut.

“You are so close, I can feel it, babe,” He groaned. Dani was at a loss for words, all she could do was unravel underneath him, she came with a loud moan, Nikki soon following suit, and they collapsed next to each other in silence.

“Wow,” Nikki breathed in disbelief.

“What have we done?” Dani whispered into the air as they passed out from exhaustion.

#the dirt #nikki sixx #mötley crüe

20 notes · View notes

angustdtt · 6 years

Text

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┐

Summary: The arrogant Dr. Kim Namjoon has gloated of his superior intelligence all his life. Always in the pursuit of his own realization as an inventor one day he finally manages to shape what he believes, is the culmination of his life’s work.

But at what cost, and under what consequences.

Now he will be willing to break any barrier in front of him- even putting his own work at risk with only one goal in mind: Power the clock, turn back time and fix the fault.

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

TimeTravel!AU | Steampunk!AU

wordCount: 1.7k

pairing: namjoon x reader(she)

genre: angst| fiction| fluff

triggers: mentions of severe health condition and mentions of death.

tarot cards: the chariot | death

masterlist | Ch 1 - 2 -3 - 4

A Dead Writers Co. Collaboration - Masterpost

Who takes the poison so the other person doesn’t have to?

“Just breathe, ok?”

“Take my hand you’re gonna be fine”

“Somebody help!”

“You are okay! I’m okay, We’ll be okay.”

“Focus on my heartbeat, just focus on that.”

The dust from the storm hadn't yet settled. The untamed power reverberated and echoed across the barren land. While standing at the top of the gritty hill, it was easy to see over the horizon the big gray upcoming stormy clouds leaving towards the north, and the thunder rolling across the malevolent sky.

Clenching his fist strong enough to turn his knuckles white he raised the device constricting his wrist to look at it.

‘It’s no use.’ the weary footsteps of the adventurer stopped making a subtle noise while stumping over the dried sand. ‘We can’t chase that storm forever.’ The voices on his head tangled as one by one tried to take control of his actions, to make the venturer stop his mad quest and actually think for a moment. Namjoon cast his eyes to the charcoal sky, his attention held by a golden streak, a crack in the cloud layer where the sun should peek.

“I need the power of that lightning,” the mad-man stepped forward, the decisive weight of his stride leaving a rooted mark over the sand. “I need to make amends for my mistakes.” Without waiting for the storm to break he hurried forward, only paying attention to one thought that conveyed him forward.

Power the clock,

Turn back time,

Fix the fault.

The gods must have felt merciful and obedient after seeing the storm-hunter exhaustive journey.

The only way to escape was to go in the storm. In the middle of the desert, he had nowhere to safeguard from the rippling waves of wind. He had to be fast, otherwise, his risk would be without a point. If he died now then it would all be lost.

Thunder cried out from the blackened sky and a growl so low that would scare the heart of any sane man. Oh, but for Namjoon the more brutal the storm, the more hopeful his heart. He feared not what was ahead, only what was left behind. The brass goggles protected his eyes from the grains of sand biting and leaving marks over his skin. When the rain began to howl and lash the lightning conductor was finally placed firmly, the only thing left to do was connect it to the wrist-watch and pray somehow he'd make it alive to the other side.

Time is of the essence, the dampened sand could potentially ruin everything. But if Doctor Kim Namjoon calculations were correct, the big lightning that gave life once before to his time-jumper ticker was close. And so, he raised his eyes as thunder rumbled and a bolt of lightning cracked the sky in two behind the droplets of rain hitting the goggles. Jagged flashes of pure light cast a glow against the monochromatic background that reached the metal stick settled on the ground. The charge was complete in less than a second, and he pushed the small copper button in the side.

He was left blind by the intense light, but it was only for a few minutes.

There was now no rain, no sand, no storm- but a big dinner table set for two people on a large and elegant hall, outside the oriel window there was healthy green grass as far as the eye could see, and somewhere, on the upstairs floor a waltz played from a gramophone, and the sound of heels moving to the rhythm.

“It worked.”

The water dripping from his long jacket was making a mess once they touched the dainty floor. In haste, he sprinted towards the back of the cottage where the kitchen was- he could use the door leading to the backyard and drop outside his soggy clothes. Namjoon knew very well the handmaiden would be upstairs taking care of dusting the top floor while the miss of the house practicing her dancing so the kitchen would be empty.

While making a beeline for the door and taking off his coat, the rich aroma of something being cooked over the stove beckoned him, triggering so many senses at once that even his tongue circled the edges of his fleshy mouth.

In his trance, he accidentally tripped with a small wooden bench which crashed into a milk bucket, which in turn met with a tall coat rack making a whole domino of pretty noticeable noise.

"Miss Y/n?" called the grating voice heading fast down the stairs. "Miss Y/n is that you, M'lady?"

Without trying to rearrange anything, Namjoon opted to get out the house completely and hide under the kitchen window instead- he had no other chance but to wait until Ms. Hill went away to re-enter afterward.

A stompy pair of steps entered the kitchen. "Good lord," she exclaimed presumably due to the turmoil found.

"Ms. Hill? Oh dear," a softer, calmer voice entered just behind. "Did you fell again, Ms. Hill? Are you okay?" Namjoon's pulse accelerated just by that elegant, tone.

A desperate need formed inside his heart, scorching everywhere. He needed to peek, to see that face he had been chasing after, throughout time, throughout his painful memories. 'It's dangerous.' The voice inside his head warned 'too dangerous.' -and it was right. If Namjoon was discovered outside the window his journey would come to an end. He couldn't meddle, not yet at least—or not like this. He was after all now a mere intruder, still a stranger to both of them.

“It must've been the stupid dog again running about.”

Oh, but the temptation. How much his poor, and lonesome heart missed her. How many days he had cried over her before planning this escapade through time. Not caring for anything else, not even his own life, only to make things right again- to save her.

His legs moved faster and made a choice on the behalf of his head. Chatter was still going inside the kitchen, he can now only pray both women were looking away from the window as his eyes scanned to meet hers.

There is an ache once he is able to see her, something that comes as goes, somewhere between complete blissful happiness and a blackness so deep that devoured every color in the world.

She talked to her handmaiden in the most natural way, because of course, it was. But for Namjoon her silhouette resembled a photograph. She was there again, present right before his eyes, but in a time where both still haven't met. Where he still hadn't changed her, where he hadn't hurt her to then reassemble again like a toy, so insensible and detached from human emotions as he was before.

“You need to change those clothes, Miss,” Hill mentioned, giving a little nudge to her waltz practice clothes. Namjoon couldn't help but smile, remembering how she absolutely adored that copper-colored striped dress, even if the corset Hill made on her own was a little too tight for her figure. “Chop-chop! Or you’ll miss the tinker’s fair.” she hustled Y/n outside the kitchen.

Namjoon tilted his head, did she just said...tinker?

“It's not a tinker’s fair,” she chuckled rolling her eyes, but with an amused expression. “It's the ‘Age of Steam: Inventors Fair’, Ms. Hill”

“Same difference,” The handmaiden insisted. “It’s just a bunch of old off-their-rocker people showing off their fancy and not too reliable knick-knacks.”

“Not all of them are-,” she stopped mid-sentence.

Ms. Hill cocked a brow up, crossing her arms over her prominent chest. “You were saying, Miss?” she taunted.

“Nevermind.” she turned around and began walking away.

“Was the lady about to mention... Dr. Kim Namjoon?”

From his hiding spot Namjoon opened his eyes wide at the mention of his name, he traced the steps and watched as the two ladies left for the front part of the cottage.

His curiosity kicked: Why was she trying to dismiss it? Did she knew him?

A little more dare wouldn't be dangerous, right? So Namjoon took the opportunity to stealthily move under the windows to where they both had went, his eagerness to powerful to be countered. His ears perked up trying to locate from under the windowpane her voice.

“I’m simply saying Dr. Kim Namjoon is a well-respected member of the inventor's society,” she argued, with a much more deliberate and conscious form of speaking.

“...A dapper young member,” Hill inserted.

She gulped a visible blush forming at her delicate cheeks, whilst she continued speaking voice trembling just a little. “ And I do not think he deserves to be under the same light as other, less-respected, members of the socie-”

“Just go and get changed, Miss. The Chariot will get here in an hour.” Hill interrupted after giving a look at the father clock on the center of the living room.

“Yep, I’ll do that.” She let out relieved of the interruption, that hard and stern washing away from her face while darting to the top floor where her room was.

So it was a lie when you assured never to have heard of me before. he thought remembering specifically the first time both met. After the—

“Welcome to the aether!” Namjoon entered the big, ornate, waiting room greeting with a prideful smile that grace his features.

A figure, sitting by the massive windows, gazed at the flourishing gardens beyond the tinted glass. She didn't turned her head at the sudden interruption.

“My humble home.” Namjoon continued speaking while he strode across the room, coat-tails swingin behind him with his every step.

Stopping right in front the wheelchair he towered the girl sitting on it. Her whole body still wrapped around in meters of bandage and patches of gauze. Her dead eyes reflected the green of the garden. They seemed without soul, so voided of emotion that Namjoon couldn't help but to think they fitted perfectly what she was now- an incredible biological contraption- a machine so exquisite -so rare- so formidable and beautifully strong that saved her life at the very door of death.

The project that promise, his name to endure through history. The very first fusion between human and automaton- The everlasting White Rose.

37 notes · View notes

parkerrogersgirl · 6 years

Text

A Little Too Old-Fashioned

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,747

Warnings: language, jealous Steve (which I live for), SMUT

A/N: This was a request from the wonderful @mrs-meghan-winchester , hope it’s what you wanted, doll!

“Nat, I really do not want to go tonight.” You’re in the dressing room of a high-end dress store with Natasha and Wanda, shopping for a last-minute outfit for tonight. Tony had decided to throw a huge party, “just because.”

“I don’t care, Tony said everyone has to go. Besides, Steve is going and you wanna dress up for your boyfriend, don’t you?” Natasha responds from outside the door.

You smirk, slipping on the dress, “alright, fuck it. I’m doing this.” You walk out of the dressing room in a long-sleeved black dress with a low cut neckline and an open back.

“DAAAAAAMMNNN, GIRL,” Natasha says while Wanda wolf whistles.

“Steve is a lost cause, babe. There is not a chance he’ll still be a virgin after tonight,” Wanda says with a smirk. You’d been dating Steve Rogers for about a year, and he wanted to wait to have sex. You knew he loved you, but the waiting was killing you. Sure, you’d had some steamy makeout sessions, but that was it. You’d never gone down on him and vice versa. You got that he was old-fashioned, but you got the feeling that he was a little too old-fashioned.

You look at yourself in the mirror, and you’re almost unrecognizable. The dress hugs all your curves, and the low cut of the neck leaves nothing to the imagination. You change back into your regular clothes and Natasha pays, since that was the only reason you came with them.

You get back to the tower and go to Steve’s room after you drop your dress off in your room. He’s on his balcony reading and you sneak up behind him, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hey, doll,” he says, closing his book. He grabs your arm, pulling you into his lap to kiss you deeply.

“Hello to you too, baby,” you say into the kiss. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back.

“So, did you get a new outfit for tonight? I wanna see,” he says, smirking at you.

“Not gonna happen, Stevie. It’s a surprise.”

He pouts, his hands moving up to your shoulders, “but I wanna see it.”

You shake your head, “nope. You’ll see it tonight. And you better be ready to dance with me.”

“Sorry, doll, I don’t dance,” he says with a shrug.

“Well, let’s just say you’ll regret that in about an hour,” you kiss him quickly and go to your room to grab your dress before meeting Wanda and Natasha in Nat’s room. You were all going to get ready together, and Nat was going to curl your hair while you did their makeup. You did eyeliner for each of them and Natasha made your hair look perfect, and you checked each other out after you were dressed.

“Alright, if at least one of us doesn’t get laid tonight, I’m gonna rip off some dicks,” Wanda says.

You fluff up your curls a little before walking out to get on the elevator with the girls. You try to pull up your dress a little, but Natasha smacks your hand.

“Don’t you dare. You need to show that off.”

You blush as the elevator reaches the floor where the bar and living room are located, taking a deep breath. You step out of the elevator with your friends and they immediately drag you to the bar. You order a Long Island Iced Tea, which you knew would work its magic quickly.

You take a sip, feeling a pair of arms around your waist.

“You look delicious in this dress, doll,” Steve whispers in your ear, nibbling your earlobe.

You smirk, turning to look at him, “you don’t look too bad yourself, Captain.” He’s wearing a grey suit with a bright blue tie, which really brings out his eyes.

He runs his hands up and down your hips, “I really do not want to be here.”

“Well, since we are here, let’s dance,” you say as you take his arm and set down your drink, trying to pull him to the makeshift dance floor.

He shakes his head, moving his arm from your grasp, “doll, I told you, I don’t dance.”

You roll your eyes, “fine, I’ll just find someone who will. Watch my drink, will you?”

You walk up to Tony, whispering your plan to him.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, (Y/N),” he shakes, shaking his head.

“Please, Tony? It was a lot of work looking this good, and I wanna make him pay attention.”

He groans, nodding, “fine, kid needs to be de-virginized anyway.”

He leads you to the dance floor, an arm around your waist, with the other on your shoulder. “Slow Hands” by Niall Horan is playing, and you start to slowly salsa with him. You make small talk for a few minutes, particularly about what he’s been working on with Stark Industries. He glances at you, whispering in your ear, “don’t look now, but your boyfriend looks pissed.”

You glance up, and Steve’s fists are clenched from across the room. His eyes meet yours and he storms over to you, and Tony dismisses himself. Steve grabs your arm, setting your drink down before taking you to the elevator. He presses the button for his floor, still holding onto you. You don’t say a word as the doors open and he leads you to his room. He kicks the door shut behind him, facing you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What was that?”

“What? I was just talking to Tony.”

“That wasn’t talking, doll. That was flirting.”

“No, Steve. It wasn’t. I was talking to him about everything that’s going on with the company. Pepper’s been super stressed out about it.”

“Then what the hell was that dancing? Did you really need to be that close to him?” “Baby, that’s called the salsa. You wouldn’t dance with me, and I needed to get Tony to talk to me. Pepper asked me to.”

He pulls you tight to him and you gasp, “I don’t think you understand something. You are mine. I’m protective of things that are mine. So when I saw you dancing with Stark…. My blood was boiling. You don’t get to do shit like that to me. I lived in a time where that’s not okay. I know I don’t understand modern flirting, but if I’d known that wasn’t what that was, I might have been okay with it. But I really wish you hadn’t done that in the first place.”

“Steve, I bought this dress just to go to the party. I wanted to dance with my boyfriend. And you weren’t paying attention to me, so I wanted to feel good when I was this dressed up. I don’t dress up often, and I just wanted someone to look at me.”

“Well then you should’ve said that instead of making me jealous. Because now I have to remind you who you belong to.” He starts walking forward, and you end up backing into the bed.

“Steve, what are you doing?”

“Well, I wanted to wait a little longer just because I’ve never been comfortable with sex before marriage, but I think that’s what I need to do to make you realize you’re mine.”

He pulls off your dress and pushes you down on the bed, taking off his jacket, tie, and shoes before climbing on top of you. He kisses you roughly, pinning your arms above your head. He takes his tie, wrapping it around your wrists so they stay together.

“Whoa, when did you learn that?”

He smirks, “I may have wanted to wait, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been doing research.”

He quickly unbuttons his shirt, throwing it on the floor. He does the same with his belt and pants, and he stares at you practically naked on the bed.

“Jesus Christ, doll, you’re gorgeous.” You blush, looking away from his gaze. He shakes his head, lifting up your chin, “you’re going to look at me the whole time. Otherwise, I stop. Got it?”

You nod, and he raises an eyebrow, “I need to hear you, doll.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

You look at him, confused. “Yes….. Captain?”

He smirks at you, kissing you passionately as he starts grinding on you. You moan and he kisses down your body. You close your eyes and he stops. “What did I just say, doll?”

You open your eyes again, biting your lip. He nods and keeps kissing down your body. He reaches the apex of your thighs, he takes off your underwear, and you feel his hot breath on your pussy. You squirm, and he makes eye contact with you.

“Who does this belong to?” “You.”

“Are you sure about that? Or does it belong to Stark?”

“It’s yours, Captain. Only yours. Please.”

“Please what, doll?” He licks a long stripe, sucking on your clit.

“Please stop teasing,” you moan, arching your back so your hips move toward his face.

He shakes his head, sucking harder as he slips two fingers inside you. You roll your head back, making sure to keep your eyes open. He scissors his fingers, and you moan loudly.

“OH, CAPTAIN,” you yell, wrapping your legs over his shoulders, “I’m close, Steve.”

He stops, pulling his fingers out to move up, kissing you roughly. “Steveee that’s not fair,” you groan. “Should I let you cum, doll? Are you going to be good? Will you remember who you belong to?”

“Yes, Captain, please just let me.”

He takes his boxers off, immediately pushing into you. He lets out a near primal groan, and you gasp when he’s completely filled you up. He starts a fast pace, slamming into you. You wrap your arms around him, scratching down his back.

He props himself up on his elbows so he can penetrate you at a deeper angle, hitting your g-spot. Your breathing speeds up and he feels you squeezing him. “Cum for me, baby. I’m right there with you.”

You gasp as you orgasm, looking into his deep blue eyes, “FUCK, CAPTAIN.”

He cums with you, sucking on your neck hard, and you’re sure you’ll have a mark in the morning.

You’re both covered in a layer of sweat and he pulls out, laying next to you. He pulls you so your head in on his chest, looking up at him.

“If I’d known you felt that good, I would’ve done that the day I met you.

@thankyouforanonymity @gatorgal94 @supernaturaldean67 @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @summer-winchester @thevampywitch @princess76179 @sebbies @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @jcc04220 @lostess-souless @samanddeanmyguardianhunters @ilovethefandomwho @dancer2001 @a-tale-of-two-comics @moondustparker @yleryoseeph @magellan-88 @healojane @sarahp879 @mizz-kraziii @lostinspace33 @silver-starburst @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @guera31 @destielinamoose @808shelbsters @demonkitkat @hoe4sebstan @izzy206-2001@esther-alves-world @tinyfistwarrior@mrs-meghan-winchester

#steve #Steve Rogers #captain steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x reader smut #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff

189 notes · View notes

sceptilemasterr · 6 years

Text

“I, uh... I love you.” (Part 6 - Heart Vs. Mind)

Main Pairing: Estela x Taylor (gender not stated)

Other Pairings: Diego x Varyyn, Craig x Zahra, Grace x Aleister

Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama

Warnings: Violence, swearing, possible character death (it’s ambiguous)

Summary: With Estela and Aleister captured by Rourke, Taylor and Grace go in to rescue them. But Rourke has a new trick up his sleeve...

Note: Similar to Part 3, the bolded words represent in-game “choices” if I worked for PB. Which I don’t. Unfortunately.

Note 2 The Note’s Revenge: Credit to slighter_writer on AO3 for the idea for this one!

Previous Chapter: Link

Masterlist: Link

"Taylor, you're completely insane."

You glare at Jake. "Don't they mean anything to you!?" you demand, looking around at your friends one by one.

Michelle shrugs. "Of course we care, Taylor. I'll admit I was never the biggest fan of either of them...still, they were part of the group." She sighs and looks down at her feet. "But attacking The Celestial? You heard Varyyn's scouts, that place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. You'd just get yourself killed."

You think of Estela at the mercy of Rourke and his henchmen, and your gaze hardens. "So you want me to just do nothing? Like hell I will!"

"Taylor, Michelle's right, you'd just--" Sean starts to say.

"No! No, I'm done with this, okay? I'm gonna save them, or die trying, understand? With or without any of you." Before Sean, Michelle, Jake, or any of your other friends can say a word, you storm out of the audience chamber of Elyys'tel angrily.

Frustration and anger cloud your vision as you wander through the Vaanti city, neither knowing nor caring where you end up. You keep climbing, up and up the massive tree, until finally you arrive at a large platform jutting out from the highest branch. Though it's too far away to actually see, you gaze southward in the direction of The Celestial, tears blurring your vision. "Dammit, Rourke, you BASTARD!!" you shout at the horizon, slamming your hands into the railing. "You...son of a..." Finally you slump to the floor, overwhelmed by hopelessness.

You aren't certain how much time passes. Five minutes? An hour? Half a day? Does it even matter anymore?

"Taylor?" You recognize Grace's voice as she approaches. "Are you--"

"No, Grace, I'm not okay," you mutter. "How could I be? It should've been me he captured...It should've been me."

You both stare in silence for several minutes before Grace speaks again. "Um, Taylor...that's not what I was going to ask. I was wondering..." She looks down and sighs. "I was wondering if you were ready to go yet."

"Go?" you echo. "Go where?"

She smiles faintly. "The Celestial, where else? I'm not giving up on Aleister any more than you are with Estela. Even if the others think it's impossible." She shrugs. "I was thinking about what you said this morning, and you're right, we can't just do nothing. I may not be the strongest or the most useful member of our group, but I'll do whatever I can."

You shake your head. "It's true neither of us are the strongest, but you're definitely one of the smartest, Grace. And even if it's just the two of us, I think we can do this."

Grace shyly looks down at her feet. "Thanks, Taylor. Also, looks like you'd better make that 'the three of us.'" She gestures behind you, and you turn to see a familiar zebra-striped fox watching you from the other side of the platform. "You coming too, Furball?"

"Mrooooow!" says Furball affirmatively.

Hope begins to swell in your heart as you stand up, glancing once more in the general direction of The Celestial. Estela, Aleister...hang on. We're coming.

Arachnid troops patrol the perimeter of the hotel, now sealed up tight with defensive shutters. You, Grace, and Furball watch, hidden behind a dense patch of ferns. "I count five...no, six soldiers," Grace whispers. "Plus who knows how many more inside."

"Right. We need to get in and get out, fast," you reply. "Any way to tell where Rourke's holding them?"

"The rooftop, if I had to guess? Unless you see some kind of clue that might give us a hint?"

You survey the area carefully. You choose to focus on...a large leaf on a windowsill. "What about that leaf?" you ask, pointing it out to Grace. "Does that mean anything, do you think?"

She squints. "I'm not sure, but it might be... Can you get me closer? I need to check something."

It's not going to be easy, but you trust Grace, so you agree. "We'll need to get past those guards," you say. Two Arachnid soldiers are standing at opposite ends of the building, each with patrol routes that take them directly past the windowsill in question. "What do you think?"

She watches for a moment, counting to herself, as the guards continue walking back and forth. "Okay, looks like the guard on the right walks away from the window about every six seconds. The other guard walks away every twelve seconds. We're gonna have to time this right."

You nod and watch the guards carefully. One...two...three...four...five...six seconds! You stay where you are, watching the guards walk by. Seven...eight...nine...ten...eleven...twelve seconds! You run, quickly! Grace sprints toward the window and you dodge to the side, scooping up a rock and tossing it in the other direction. "What the hell was that?" asks one of the guards, moving toward the source of the noise and away from Grace. The remaining guard stays put. "I thought I heard something..."

Holding your breath, you watch as Grace grabs the leaf and examines it closely. Finally, she starts sprinting back toward the jungle and gestures for you to follow her. Once the both of you are safe, she holds out the leaf to you. "Look at this!" she gasps excitedly. "Do you know what it is?"

"A...leaf?" you guess.

"Not just a leaf, this is the same one that healed Aleister's hand, remember?" She gestures wildly toward the leaf. "These markings, the angle of the veins and the shape...it's definitely the same kind. He must have known I would recognize it!"

It still looks like any other leaf to you, but you decide not to mention that. Instead you say, "Okay, so what did he want you to know? Why would he leave this?"

Grace looks down at her feet. "I...to be honest, I'm not quite sure. It was just sitting there, by the window to the--"

You both come to the same realization at the same time. "...The restaurant."

You meet Grace back where you started, after having made a full circle around the hotel. You shake your head. "Shutters over all the other entrances. Looks like this is the only way in or out." The two of you observe the main entrance, now defended by thick steel plates and the four Arachnids posted in front of it. "Any ideas?"

"We can't get in that way. Too heavily guarded.," says Grace.

"Don't tell me you're giving up--"

"Of course not! We just have to open up one of the smaller entrances. One where Rourke and his people won't be expecting us. Let me think...." You absently stroke Furball's fur as she mutters quietly to herself. Then she looks down at the striped fox and her eyes widen. "That's it! We use Furball!"

"Wait, what?" you ask.

She gestures toward the thick shutters surrounding the bottom of the hotel. "The shutters are made of steel. Traditionally, steel tends to be created with a largely face-centered cubic structure, which when exposed to subzero temperatures..." She trails off when she notices your glazed look. "Sorry. I keep forgetting you aren't Aleister."

"Gee, thanks," you respond sarcastically.

"Uh, that's not what I meant, I mean...you know! Anyway, the point is, if Furball can freeze the latches on the sides of one of those steel panels, we might be able to break them and release the shutter. We'll have to be quick, though, because those guards will notice sooner or later."

Having no better ideas of your own, you shrug. "Okay, let's do it then. I think the rear entrance by the pool had only one guard; why don't we try there?" Grace nods.

Slowly, quietly, you make your way back around the hotel, until you are hidden just outside the rear entrance. Just as you expected, a single Arachnid patrols the perimeter outside the shutters. Grace scoops Furball up into her arms. "Okay, Taylor, you need to distract him. I'll handle this part."

You turn your attention to the guard. The moment he turns away from the shutters, you run out of the bushes and shout... "Hey! Bugface!"

The guard turns and opens fire, but you're too quick, ducking out of sight back into the bushes. Angrily, he strides toward you, and you spot Grace lifting Furball up to the first latch. "We're spiders, not bugs, idiot!" the guard growls, but you've already circled several yards away from him. At the sound of your footsteps, he turns toward you, completely ignoring Grace. "Get back here, kid!" Once again he opens fire, and you...duck! The bullets fly over your head, harmlessly.

Clink! Another latch springs free, weakened by Furball's ice breath. The Arachnid turns toward the noise but you quickly chuck a nearby rock at his face. Angered, he whirls on you again, but before he can fire you've closed the distance and tackled him. The two of you wrestle for a moment, and finally you manage to latch onto his gun. With both hands, you hang on, and finally you are able to wrench it away from him. You bash the gun over his head with a resounding crack! as you notice the final latch breaking free. "Uh, wow," says Grace, eyes widening at the sight of the unconscious Arachnid. "Nice job, Taylor."

"You too," you say, gesturing toward the newly-made gap in the shutters. "Should we go inside?"

Having left Furball safely hidden in the jungle, the two of you now creep through the hallways of The Celestial. Everything feels eerily quiet, your footfalls echoing loudly in spite of your best efforts to walk silently. Making your way closer to the restaurant, the two of you round a corner and you suddenly spot a flash of color on the floor. "What is it?" whispers Grace.

You pick up the object: a small scrap of teal cloth, unremarkable at first glance. But you know better. "It's Estela's," you respond. "It must've been torn off of her hoodie. Of course she'd put up a fight," you add, smiling to yourself in spite of the situation.

"I'm guessing Rourke would probably keep her and Aleister together. We're on the right path."

You grip the stolen Arachnid gun tightly as you advance further down the hallway. Soon you're approaching the entrance to the restaurant, and the two of you round another corner to see... "Well. Rourke's made some upgrades," you observe. Two security cameras scan the area around the entrance, and a set of iron bars block the entrance. An automatic gun turret of some kind extends down from the ceiling. "Now what?" You heft the gun experimentally. "Maybe if I hit those cameras...like, right at the same time...."

Grace reaches out and pushes your gun down. "Don't be ridiculous. That would be an impossible shot. Maybe if Jake or someone were here, but as it stands...I've got a better plan, anyway." She pulls you back around the corner and down a side hallway.

"Grace?" you ask. "Where are we going?"

She enters a deserted banquet hall, and having no better ideas, you follow her. Grace quickly strides over to a maintenance closet on the far wall and pulls it open. "Now what was it...Aha! Here!" She touches a spot on the wall, and a hidden door in the back of the closet swings open! "There's a passage from here to the kitchens. It was probably designed to permit staff to quickly bring out the food during large events."

You're impressed. "Wow. How did you find out about this?"

Grace suddenly looks down at her feet, blushing. "Oh. Well...Aleister discovered it not long after we first arrived. He...er...showed it to me during New Year's Eve, and we...."

"Nice to be able to go somewhere private. I understand." Grace nods, staring wistfully into space. "We'll get him back. Even if it's just you and me. We'll get them both back."

"How do you do it?"

The question surprises you. "Do what?"

"That. How do you stay so hopeful all the time, even in such a hopeless situation?" She gestures around you. "Rourke could have a dozen soldiers in there. We could die. Even getting this far was mostly down to luck."

"Luck and skill, Grace. We wouldn't be here without you recognizing that leaf, or figuring out how to release the shutter, or finding this passage. I trust you, and I trust myself, and I know whatever happens, I'd rather be braving whatever dangers Rourke throws our way than sitting in Elyys'tel doing nothing. When it comes down to it, I have to believe things will work out. And they will!"

She takes your hand and gives it a quick squeeze. "I'm glad you're here, Taylor."

"Me too, Grace. Now let's get to that restaurant and kick Rourke in his stupid face." She laughs in spite of herself, and together, you and Grace step forward into the passage.

When you emerge into the kitchen, you are pleasantly surprised to find it deserted. You can hear people talking in low voices from the restaurant proper, but they are too muffled to make out what is being said. "Wait," you whisper urgently, looking around. "We should grab weapons while we're in here."

"Good idea," whispers Grace. She lifts a sizable cast-iron bar and waves it experimentally. You watch her, surprised. "I'm no Estela, but you'd be surprised what I can do when I'm angry," she explains. "And right now, Rourke is making me particularly angry."

"I'm impressed." You look around the kitchen for something that catches your eye. You take a pair of kitchen knives! You use some nearby rope to fashion a makeshift holster for them around your waist, and lift the Arachnid gun. "You ready?"

Grade nods, looking toward the entrance to the restaurant with a steely expression. "On three." She holds up three fingers, lowering them one by one. Finally, at her signal, you channel all of your pent-up anger and frustration and kick the door open.

WHAM!

In an instant, you scan the room for enemies, but the actual sight before you leaves you stunned. There isn't a single Arachnid in sight. Rourke is seated at one of the tables, and at your entrance he glances your way for only a moment, as though your arrival was just a minor annoyance. But the real surprise is those seated at the table with him....

"Estela!?" you ask, shocked.

"Aleister!?" asks Grace, equally shocked.

Neither Aleister nor Estela react to your presence whatsoever. You lift the gun and point it at Rourke. "You have five seconds to explain what the hell's going on before I pull this trigger."

Rourke casually turns in his chair to face you, as infuriatingly calm as always. "Ah, Taylor. And Grace, was it? I do so dislike interruptions. Would you kindly both wait outside?"

You are momentarily confused, but keep the gun trained on Rourke's face. "Let. Them. Go."

Rourke spreads his arms wide to show his empty hands. "They are not prisoners. You misunderstand, Taylor. We were merely having an enjoyable family dinner together before you two so rudely interrupted. Now please, leave us."

You're not sure why Estela is there if this is supposed to be a 'family dinner,' but you have bigger concerns at the moment. Grace takes a step forward, brandishing the iron bar. "Aleister. What are you doing? We need to leave."

As before, neither Aleister nor Estela are reacting at all. "My son," says Rourke, "would you please inform this young woman of the situation?"

At this, Aleister looks up and speaks for the first time. "Yes, Father. We are in the midst of a family dinner. You must leave at once, Grace." His expression is blank, his eyes unfocused. His voice sounds even more monotone than usual.

"We're not going anywhere," says Grace, her voice angrier than you have ever heard it. "Rourke, what did you do!?"

Rourke gets up from his chair, his smug expression never leaving his face. "There, you see? They are here because they wish to be here. You are trespassing and interrupting, but I am a generous man." He withdraws a small control panel from his pocket and presses a few buttons. "I have disabled my defenses and ordered my troops to stand down. You may leave now, and I give you my word that you will not be harmed. But please, stop disturbing my family's privacy."

Before you can respond, Grace suddenly lets out a yell and charges at Rourke, iron bar raised to strike! "Grace, no, wait!" you cry out, but to no avail.

Rourke deftly sidesteps the attack. As Grace recovers and turns back toward Rourke, he gestures toward the table. "Aleister? Please restrain this madwoman."

Grace begins to charge toward Rourke again, but this time, Aleister gets up, standing between her and Rourke. At the sight, she hesitates. "Grace, you mustn't disturb my father," Aleister says in that same robotic voice. He wrenches the bar from Grace's hands and tosses it aside. As he moves to restrain Grace, he briefly turns to the left, and you notice a small metallic device affixed to his left temple, lights blinking erratically.

The sight snaps you out of your confusion, all the pieces suddenly falling into place. "Mind control. You're disgusting, Rourke," you growl. Rourke has only a moment to glance in your direction before you unleash a hail of bullets in his direction.

When the ensuing haze clears, Rourke remains standing, unharmed, a shimmering crystalline shield surrounding him. The shield dissipates. "I tire of this. Daughter, eliminate this intruder, would you?"

Daughter? Your brain has barely a second to process this before Estela has snatched up her spear and is charging straight at you! You block, the spear-tip coming down with such force that it nearly shears through the gun you hold. Sparks fly from the now-useless weapon as she whirls, advancing on you once more. "Estela! Please, it's me!" you call out, but her expression is just as blank as Aleister's, with a device just like his affixed to the side of her head. She brings the spear down once more and it's all you can do to yank out the kitchen knives at your waist, desperately parrying the blow. "Estela!"

"Taylor! Look out!" calls Grace as Estela comes at you from the side, smacking you hard across the face with the spear's blunt end. Dazed, you struggle to get up as she thrusts the spear point-first toward your right side.

You roll left! The spear strikes the carpet with such force that it becomes embedded in the floor. Estela struggles to wrench it free. and you spot an opening. You go for her head, tossing one of your knives aside as you grab the machine on her temple. You attempt to wrench the device free, but she suddenly cries out in pain and you realize the thing is implanted deep beneath her skin. Shocked, you momentarily lose your grip, and she lashes out with a kick that sends you flying to the floor, landing at Rourke's feet. You look up to see his smug face looming over you. You leap to your feet and try to stab him with your remaining knife, but Estela manages to get her spear free just in time and knocks the weapon from your hand with a well-timed block.

Weaponless, you gaze up into her eyes, searching desperately for some sign of the Estela you've come to know so well, the Estela you've been slowly falling in love with every day since coming to the island. But her expression remains more blank than even a robot's. "Estela, please. I love you! Don't--"

She brings the spear down hard just as you barely scramble out of the way, and she starts to march toward you once more. "Taylor! The bar!" shouts Grace, and you spot the iron bar she had been wielding earlier, now forgotten on the floor. Behind Estela you spot a pirate cutlass mounted on the wall. The knife you cast aside earlier lies on a table. You go for...the cutlass! As Estela lunges left, you go right, darting around her and leaping toward the back wall, grabbing the weapon off of the wall just in time to block another spear strike. "Ah, very good!" calls out Rourke, as if he was merely watching a somewhat-interesting movie. "This should be quite interesting."

Estela strikes again and again, but her movements are slow and telegraphed, nothing at all like the quick style you've grown used to from countless sparring sessions. A side effect of the mind-control, you assume. Each time, you manage to block, and at several points she leaves a clear opening in her defense. But you cannot bring yourself to strike back. You remain on the defensive, blocking and dodging every strike she attempts. "Taylor. Surrender," she says.

"No, Estela." Your blades lock, and you stare into her eyes, desperation written plainly on your face. "Whatever Rourke's done to you...the real you has to be in there somewhere. Please! Snap out of it!"

She backs away for a moment before lunging with a low sweep from the right. You leap over it and block her next attack. "This...isn't you!" you grunt, barely managing to deflect another set of blows. "We promised we'd--" CLANG! "--never hurt each other--" SLICE! "--no matter what!" Your voice begins to waver as the emotion threatens to overwhelm you. You sidestep as she strikes again, her right side wide open for an attack...but once again, you refuse to take it. "Estela, please! It's me!"

Estela suddenly stops in her tracks, blinking in confusion as her expression softens. "Taylor?"

"Estela...are you..." you start to say, but then the device on her head lights up once more, sparks dancing across its surface. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rourke, frustration on his face, fiddling with the control panel from earlier.

You start running toward him when Estela's spear blocks your path. You turn and see the glazed, emotionless expression back on her face, the device having once again taken hold. "Do not harm Father," she says, her voice flat.

"Screw you, Rourke!" You bat Estela's spear aside and charge back toward him, but once again Estela blocks your path. "Estela, please. Don't do this!" She attacks you, and you block her blows several more times until one final strike sends the cutlass spinning out of your hands. She then flips her spear and smacks you with the blunt end several times, until you're finally sent falling to the ground.

You hear Rourke's footsteps approaching you as he applauds slowly. "Well done, well done indeed. Taylor, you impress me. However, as enjoyable as this has been to watch, I have other things to do and very little time to spare." He steps over you and takes a place just behind Estela. "Daughter! Kill them."

Estela raises her spear, poised to stab you directly in the heart. You are too battered to stand or otherwise avoid the strike. Desperate, all you are able to do in these last moments is cry out: "Estela, I love you!" You close your eyes tightly, waiting for the end...

But nothing happens.

Slowly, you open your eyes. Estela stands over you, her face contorted in agony, the device on her temple sparking and blinking faster than ever. "No! I...won't..." she forces out through gritted teeth as she struggles to twist the spear, forcing its point toward her own chest. "Taylor..."

"Kill them!" calls Rourke, more forcefully this time. "OBEY!" He glares at the control panel in his hand as his fingers dart rapidly across it.

"No!" you shout as Estela slowly but surely brings the spear point closer to herself. "Estela..."

"I'm...sorry...Taylor..."

Then everything happens so fast.

A light-colored blur rams straight into Rourke, tackling him to the ground and sending the control panel sliding across the floor, out of his reach.

Grace grips the back of Estela's spear, pulling it away from her.

Aleister grapples with Rourke on the ground, fighting over a gleaming shape in Rourke's hand.

Grace pulls the spear out of her hands and forces her to the ground, saying something into Estela's ear as Grace does something to the device on her temple. You rush to Estela's side, heedless of Rourke, and cradle her head in your arms as Grace works her magic. "What...what's going on?" you ask breathlessly.

"I figured it out. It's some form of modified neuroprosthetic wired into the temporal lobe designed to override the will of the subject...and with the proper application of force combined with the subject's own participation..." She pauses as she concentrates, intensity written on her face. "We can overload the system with excess feedback, forcing it to...a-HA!" The device goes completely silent and all the lights shut off. "...Forcing it to shut down!"

You let out the breath you hadn't even realized you were holding, and pull Grace into a hug. "I don't believe it! You're amazing!" Then you turn back to Estela, lying on the ground. "Estela?"

She slowly opens her eyes, and this time they are shining with recognition and emotion. "Taylor?" she breathes. "Taylor!" She leans up and wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you into a kiss that seems to last a lifetime. When she finally pulls back, she's shaking, and you see her eyes starting to water. Tentatively, she touches the side of her head, feeling the now-inert device. "How...how did you...."

"It was all Grace," you explain. "She did...uh, something...to get it to shut off."

"Thank you, Grace," Estela says, hugging the other girl tightly in gratitude. "Have you done this before?"

Grace shrugs. "With Aleister, a few minutes ago...Aleister!"

The three of you turn at her words to see Aleister, still fighting with Rourke, on the ground. "Grace!" he calls out. "Watch out!"

Rourke angrily shoves him off and stretches an arm toward you. Estela's eyes widen in horror. "No! Taylor, look out, he's got--"

BANG! The gun in Rourke's hand fires. A second too late, Aleister leaps back onto his father and pulls his arm away, forcing his next shots to go wide. Terrified, you look first at Estela, then at Grace, and sigh in relief when you see no sign of bloodstains.

Then the pain hits you.

Estela shrieks when she sees the wound, frantically whipping a tablecloth off a nearby table and wrapping it around the blood now pouring from your left side. "No! No, no, no...Dios, no..."

"We've got to stop the bleeding! Aleister, get over here!"

Aleister looks up from where he has Rourke in a headlock. Seeing what has happened, he grips Rourke by the throat and tightens until the older man falls unconscious, then rushes to your side. "Damn my father," he growls. "We've got to get to safety."

"He already deactivated all the defenses," Grace points out. She and Aleister begin discussing escape options, but you can barely hear them as you begin to feel yourself blacking out. "...Estela?" you gasp weakly.

Keeping one arm applying pressure to the makeshift bandage, Estela caresses your cheek with the other. "Taylor. Hang in there. I can't lose you, not now..."

You smile in spite of it all. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise," you tell her. "I love you...Estela."

The last thing you hear before slipping into unconsciousness is the voice of the woman you love. "I know, Taylor. I, uh... I love you."

Next Chapter: Link

Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn

#i uh i love you #endless summer fanfiction #fanfic #estela x mc #grace x aleister #estela montoya #grace hall #aleister rourke #everett rourke #furball

21 notes · View notes

afternoonblues · 6 years

Text

B A C K D O O R|

Edward is our protagonist.

A name which has been of a frequent use in our 18th-century novels and afterwards too, continuing its legacy of indicating to a very handsome man with a devilish smile and polite manners. Our Edward was such a man too. No, he was actually a boy. A boy of 18 and, on the verge of being a man. A boy, who has a sister back at home all alone and he could feel the storm hitting.

He looked past the graveyard, where his father, Lucas lay now along with his almost second wife, June. He looked away and started walking towards his home. So, as he walks we need to listen to some history. June and Lucas, as I have said were in their 40`s when they met. They both have their children. Lucas had Edward and June had Kheya, who is presently Edward`s official sister, with whom he has no blood relation, absolutely nothing in common but that one feeling that they are both struck at this present moment is what makes them one. Kheya has lost her father, who was in Army when she was 9. Now she is 18 and has lost her mother too in a severe car accident. Edward lost his mother when he was born. His father didn`t remarry again and now he was gone too in that same car accident.

It was on last spring that they both finalized the plan that they are going to be married because after all, their children are now grown up and going to college. They can spend the last days of their lives with a company of same fate. June, along with Kheya came permanently to Edward`s place and we should have seen the anger and how much hurt Kheya was after seeing to this decision of her mother. How can she do this? Didn`t she love her father? All these questions started swirling around her head. She felt dizzy and she hated the fact of having called someone brother only because the person whom her mother is marrying has a boy.

Edward dusted off the dirt mark from his pants and looking at the dark sky one last time, he turned the knob of the entrance door. As he took off his shoes and jacket, he saw that Kheya was sitting on the living room carpet, her back only visible. Edward walked over and sighing microscopically sat beside her.

“Your coffee is in the flask.” Kheya`s unwilling voice said.

“Kheya, we need to talk.”

She turned her head towards him and looked at him with a blank expression.

“What? You are going to turn me out of your house?”

Edward shook his head, smiling at the back of his mind.

“Dad left the home to both of us. I talked with the lawyers in the morning. I am not talking about that. I mean, what are we gonna do?”

“Survive.” A blow of whisper.

Edward leans on to his sister and tried looking into her eyes. She didn`t look like a person who has just lost her parents. She looked like someone who just survived the Great War and waiting for Christmas.

“We have each other. We`ll live, K.”

She looked at him and then looked down at Edward`s crumpled flannels. She thought he didn`t even iron it before wearing.

“Ed, we are not what our parents tried to establish. We can`t be what they wanted.”

He knew this was coming. Kheya had always indicated this fact that even though their individual parents were to be getting married, they weren`t going to be what their parents wanted them to be – siblings. Even touching each other`s fingertips felt like touching the snow for the first time. Both of them were accepted in the same University and they were definitely going to live in the dormitory. It would be better to keep that finite distance of some floors instead of coming back home every evening tired and exhausted.

“I know, K.”

She got up and went into her room seeking the dreaded solitude and away from that person who doesn`t even belong to her.

Edward stayed down.

For the first time, the sofa felt friendlier.

_____________

For the first few days in the dorm room, it felt quite suffocating, Mostly, when Rachel wasn`t there in their room. The reason was that feeling of loneliness. For once she thought of running downstairs and barge into Room No. 28 in her red striped pyjamas and morning breath but every time she got to the knob of her door, she had the sudden surge of falling right there on the floor, on her knees and cry like a mad child. Would she go? How would she go? Can she….?

Kheya has avoided Edward for four months and it was Christmas this weekend. She was bound to go back home because her father has always told her that these occasions are enough to drag you back home. She didn`t know what it felt like to die two days before Christmas and never seeing your child. Maybe her dad did. Maybe he still does somewhere.

Also, Edward would be there.

______________

Edward met Kheya after three months, though he would swear that he had seen her passing through the corridor hiding her face in-between the classes. So, four months and he didn`t believe his eyes when he saw her texting him last night.

Pick me up at 9.

He had replied:

See you.

When he saw her at nine the next morning, he felt like he never knew her. Because, she looked like someone who had survived The Great War and is now going to the much awaited Christmas, all happy and content. He couldn`t even make sure if she was putting on a show or not. He hoped she didn`t. He reminded her to put on the seatbelt.

She never really liked them.

______________

Kheya was. How could she tell she almost banged his door at three in the morning all these months?

There was no show in the house obviously. All it needed was dusting. A lot. Kheya thought the best way to start was with the laundry. Then she snorted and, then laughed like The Joker. It`s Christmas and she thinks the best thing to start with was dirty laundry. (Nice.)

Edward had to sneak into the room to see who was watching a Comedy Central show. And, then he found her acting like that, in the washroom. Without a TV.

He went back returning to the living area to call the pizza people. Then, he remembered something.

______________

It was quite silent in the whole home. But it didn`t matter to her. She was used to it. Silence. She took her laptop and went over to watch stupid cat videos. After some while, she got bored. She closed her laptop and went downstairs. She had her baby blue pyjamas on and a simple white tee that had a stain mark around the collar and over that she wore an old red sweater. She didn`t look like someone on a Christmas Eve. Wrong Day & Wrong Outfit.

As she casually strolled around the kitchen, she found an unopened box of pizza. She looked around to see if Ed was standing somewhere in the kitchen, hiding or getting ready to scare nothing out of her. Then, she heard something.

_______________

It must be here.

Last time, he looked at this place, it was there. Dad must have put it somewhere, but then it was not even dark last time and it was sunny outside not snow sticking to your legs and freezing you.

He saw a shadow and a shuffle. He turned consciously and saw Kheya`s shadow over the window pane. It must have been the wall or else he would have been breathing snow right now and a broken leg.

He slowly, without making any further noise walked back into the house. The shadow was nowhere. He went back into the kitchen leaving his boots back. The pizza was cold. He had to microwave it, again.

________________

She knew something was going on. Ed acted like something was wrong. His face was telling it. For once, she thought about asking him. But then she thought if it was going to be easy – asking and conversing. She was never good at it.

She saw him pacing around the living room wearing that stupid woollen cap.

“Would you stop doing that?”

“Huh?” He stopped pacing. (Thank God.)

“I`m trying to watch something.” She was watching a Hercule Poirot movie. It`s about The White Christmas.

He looked at her like as if she is intentionally doing this. Like she should know, this is a biological necessity- pacing.

“Sorry. I have a lot in my mind right now.”

She raised her brows.” Well then, pace on that in the kitchen or in your room.”

“Uh, yes.” He walked away. And, then he was back again. This time standing in front of her. Maybe he was thinking about asking something to her. She was almost going to tell him to go away. But, he abruptly walked away again. God.

She missed out the best scene where all the children pranked Hercule Poirot.

_________________

He remembered.

It`s behind that backdoor. Yes, from where he used to sneak out to play. That was one of his favourite places – the backyard with all the sunflowers and tulips.

He put on his boots again and went out into the backyard. He had taken the torch this time and slowly walked around to find it. The fences were covered in snow and it was quite freezing outside. There was no show of flowers obviously. It looked like someone used a fire extinguisher on the whole backyard.

Suddenly, he saw something. He walked closer and saw the bells, the strings with quite a big difficulty. He walked faster and saw it. Standing right in front of him – a fire extinguished Christmas tree.

“You don’t deal with drugs, do you?”

And then, he fell. Right on the ground.

____________________

Kheya never liked someone who hides things from her. And, when she found Ed standing on the snow and sneakily looking over something, she knew he was hiding something from her.

Ed was trying to stand up now. He failed a couple of times and when he stood, he looked at her with his forehead all wrinkled up.

“Are you crazy?”

She was confused.

“You looked like someone going to deal drugs. Why are you constantly sneaking out?”

“What is it to you?”

“What is it to me?” She huffed. “You yourself said that we got each other and, now you are all ‘What is it to you?’?”

“I wasn`t talking about that, K.” He mumbled and walked inside shaking his boots off again. She stepped away.

“That includes hiding.”

“What?”

He started taking off his jacket but his eyes were all on her.

“Being there for each other. That includes not hiding.”

“Really, K?”, Ed was smiling. That smile which she hated because she loved it so much. His eyes had a tint of mischievous joy.

“What do you mean by that?” She turned away from him and walked into the living area. He followed her in.

“Aren`t you the one who is hiding?”

Ughhh, she thought. No way. “I am not.” Her hand in a fist. Her eyes away from him. This is wrong. What is it that he is doing?

“Yes.” He replied softly.

“No. I am not.” She pushed her voice further.

“We will always have each other, K. I just wanted to surprise you.” He slowly walked around and stood before her. “A poor Christmas Tree is in the backyard. I wanted to take it in so that we can have a real Christmas.”

“I thought you were having a Pizza Christmas.”

He laughed out loud,” Well that,” pointing towards the kitchen,” is just food.”

“What`s with that tree?” She asked now.

“Come here.” He waved his hand towards the sofa.

As they sat, Ed told her about that tree. And about that backdoor. That tree was like a family tree. They made that last year and they thought that the decorations were too good to be thrown out, and so they kept it in the backyard. A tragic basically struck them and now there is no Christmas Tree in the living area. So to forget about that incident he wanted to cheer both him and her with the tree but then, she thought he deals with drugs and now, he can’t really go out and drag the tree inside. It`s going to take loads of time to clean up the whole thing and settle it. Christmas Eve would finish by then so they let it stay in the backyard, abandoned.

“So, now what?” She asked as her legs lazily rest on the sofa. Her toes almost touching Ed`s jeans, who was sitting on the other side of the sofa.

“Merry Christmas.” He looked at her.

She laughed as she shook her head. “Merry Christmas too.”

“Pizza?”

“Um, I`ll take that.”

And, they both laughed.

Ed ate most of the slices. She didn`t mind.

She felt good. Really.

____________________

Why all the furniture are looking lonely on the morning after the Christmas Eve?

Maybe it was him. Maybe it is the coldness.

Ed stood in the kitchen looking at the toaster and waited for the bread to pop up all roasted up. The mayonnaise must be in the upper cabinet. It`s two in the afternoon and he had woken up at one. He had not checked on Kheya, because maybe he thought she was still asleep. They had stayed up late last night watching Hercule Poirot movies. That little guy was awesome. Ed loved it. (He didn`t even thank Kheya.)

After eating his late breakfast on the kitchen stool, he went upstairs to wake Kheya up and when he entered, all he saw was her unmade, empty bed standing there in her messed up room. He hurriedly went downstairs and tried calling her from his phone. He heard a ring and his ears went all red. She left her phone.

All at once he heard another sound. He looked around and then realized that he had heard this sound somewhere before.

Suddenly, he remembered. And then he ran, fast towards the door. The backdoor. And, there she was – shaking her hair for the snow to fall and her dream catcher earrings making that tinkling sound.

“Where were you gone? I thought you were in your room. K, what the hell is this?” He rumbled on over his huge list of questions.

She looked at him, smiling with all her teeth. She has taken off her boots.

“I went to meet Lisa to give her, her gift. Why all these questions?” She walked past him and entered the kitchen mumbling. “Whoa, mayonnaise? I never knew we had it in our kitchen.”

“I can`t believe you sneaked out to meet her, through the back door.”

“Don`t worry, Ed. You can always join me.” She said while eating mayo off a spoon.

“No, thank you. I`m good.”

“Really?” She started emptying the whole jar.

“Phew. Yeah.” He huffed and started walking away when she called out.

“Ed?”

He turned frowning. “What now?”

She grinned. “I thought that door was for sneaking out only, right?”

Ed had never been this thrilled hearing that. He nodded and grinned all at the same time.

Yes, they would. They will sneak out someday, together but that would be no fun because there would be no one waiting or worrying about them back at home. They only have each other now.

They will.

Someday.

The End

#fiction #not a fanfiction #young adult

2 notes · View notes

tokyoteddywolf · 7 years

Text

A Blue CatAstrophe Ch.7

AHAHAHAHA I LIVE!!!! Thanks to all the nice people who encouraged me during my little writers block/motivation slump period! Have a chapter with plenty of Shance and Pidge being a geek! :)

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Shiro was internally screaming. Very loudly. His head was actually ringing at this point, with Black laughing like crazy in the back of his mind. He was currently pacing his room, face redder than Keith's Lion. Lance was Azul. Lance was a cat. The very same cat that had calmed him from a nightmare and slept in his bed on his chest. Black very kindly told him that he should calm himself before he overheated and fainted. He kept pacing, half sure there were marks from his shoes on the ground from the rate at which he was going, back and forth in an oval. He stopped pacing and hid his face in his hands with a groan.

He was not handling this crush well at all. At first, during the whole Balmera incident, he'd just been worried over a teammate, but then he'd felt something flutter in his heart when Lance had come out of that coma to shoot Sendak. And then it slowly evolved from there into a full blown crush with every laugh, every smile, and though he'd tried to push it down, it never worked, and eventually he'd wanted to start pulling a Keith and punch every alien Lance flirted with in the face out of pure impulse and spite. Which was why he hadn't wanted Lance on Kolkar at the alliance meeting, because he didn't know if he could handle seeing Lance flirt with another alien again. He didn't think he'd be able to stop himelf from bitch-slapping someone with his activated arm if he saw one more damn sentient being actually flirting back with the gorgeous Blue Paladin.

He smacked his head into the wall at his own thoughts. With a sigh, he decided to go work off some of these emotions at the training deck, then go check on Pidge. He rubbed his forehead, and headed out.

Pidge dashed about the room, setting up testing areas and hooking up wires to Green, her laptop running a hundred codes a minute as she processed the pollen, and Lance was exhausted just watching her. So, he settled for sprawling lazily across the warm keyboard of the laptop and purred at the heat spreading through his fur, and fell into a sort of half-asleep state, ears pricked and listening to Pidge babble to herself in Science mumbo-jumbo.

“Okay Lance! I need you to step into this scanner real quick.” Pidge explained, motioning to one of the weird metal boxes that were open at both ends, and was hooked up to the computer. Lance grumbled and got up from his napping spot, moving towards the box and stepping through, moving slowly as Pidge instructed him. Pidge hummed and sent the results to Coran, who was using a tablet to communicate with the youngest Paladin from down on Kolkar, and began flipping through a microscope with the pollen on a slide. Lance stood nearby, ready to shove Pidge aside in she accidentally breathed it in. Wait, hold on a minute. Lance jumped down, padded over to where she'd left her packet of surgical masks with Green, and started nudging it towards his tiny teammate.

Pidge looked up, and grinned. “Oh yeah! Thanks Lance. I almost forgot to put one of those on. Good thing Coran worked it out when I told him I needed something like this. The replication part of the ship is fascinating! I'll have to see how that works later...” She said cheerfully, then slid on a mask over her mouth and nose, testing her breathing for a minute before nodding and going back to the slide, Lance staying close by on the little table.

“Hmm… yeah, looks like this was made to specifically alter genetic structures into it's most primitive form, and I guess the most primitive form on Kolkar is some sort of feline-esque creature.” Pidge muttered, stepping back from the microscope and beginning to pace back and forth in front of Lance, who was now lying on the table, tail twitching idly as he watched her move back and forth.

“But, thanks to Blue and her Quintessence, plus you not being from Kolkar, it just edited you into a cat by tearing apart your current- at the time, at least- cellular structure and rebuilt it from scratch… Lance, dude, holy shit. How are you even alive?!?” Pidge yelped, turning to her fluffy companion and scooping him up, shaking him in astonishment. Lance hissed, disliking the sudden movement. His ears pricked up when he heard the door slide open and Shiro walked in.

Pidge whirled on him, trapping Lance in her arms and leaving his hind legs and tail to dangle free, the cat himself looking very uncomfortable by this. “Shiro! Man, you won't believe this! Lance shouldn't even be alive! The pollen doesn't just change your DNA, it completely strips it down and rebuilds everything from scratch!!! His entire cellular structure was rearranged in less than an hour 'cuz he got covered in so much pollen! Blue's Quintessence merely made the change happen faster because he couldn't feel it, which I guess was Blue's primary objective when she did it, but it also kept him alive! If a normal human went through that, they'd be dead!” Pidge trilled, as Shiro steadily got paler and paler at the news.

“Uh… lucky Lance, I guess?” The Black Paliadin asked, somehow keeping the shudder out of his voice. Pidge let Lance go and turned back to her computer, quickly typing out notes. Lance grumbled at her and trotted over to where Shiro had slid against the wall to sit down and process the information. He jumped into Shiro's lap and mewed questioningly, worried at Shiro's pale face and shaky breaths. He was immediately cradled in two arms, and a face was buried into his fur, again. They really had a thing for his fur, didn't they?

“So I pretty much almost got you killed.” The words that were muttered into his back had his ears flicking back to make sure he had heard correctly. “I am so sorry, Lance. This is all my fault… I made you feel bad enough that you ran off and got caught up in all of this… I should have tried to be more considerate of your feelings and listened and been more encouraging… maybe then you'd still be human and not...” The leader of Voltron let out a shaky breath. Lance mewed and wriggled until he could nuzzle Shiro's face, purring up a storm and trying to convey that it wasn't his fault.

Blue rumbled in agreement, though she did also add that he should have included Lance in more missions than he did. Overprotective much? He huffed at her for that. There was no way in Hell, Heaven or high water that Shiro felt the same as Lance. Nope. Nu-uh. No way. Blue laughed, saying that he was certainly funny if he believed that. Lance lashed his tail and told her to hush, grumbling under his mental breath.

Suddenly, Coran burst into the room, half dragging Allura and a vial of purple shimmery liquid. “We've figured it out! Pidge! I need some help with this, but I believe that if we create a batch of this that's diluted for human use, we can cure Lance! If we manage to figure that out, then Allura can use her ability of Quintessence manipulation and reverse the change!” The excited Altean trilled loudly, Allura nodding in agreement as she pulled out of her Advisor's grasp. Pidge looked up and nodded excitedly. “Perfect! I was just running calculations on what exactly would be needed to dull down any pain felt during the reversal process.” She chirped, pushing up her glasses and grinning. She looked over at Shiro, who was looking much better now. “Shiro, hold onto Lance for a minute while we set everything up?” She asked, smiling at the nod the Black Paladin gave her in response.

Both man and cat watched in fascination as Pidge and Coran talked biology and schematics for diluting the antidote, as apparently that plant, called Felisiviny, had turned plenty of unwary Kolkarians into a cat like creature called a devecias, which were like a cross between a lynx and a tiger and a German Shepherd with scarlet macaw feathers along its ears and tail, along the jaw fringe too. Then, Shiro and Lance were dragged to the med pods, where Coran programed one to the proper dilution percentage, fed in half the vial, and pulled Lance from a reluctant Shiro's arms and started up the med pod.

Allura got ready, as the antidote had to be breathed in, and Lance was set at the bottom of the pod. He looked up, mewing in concern. “We'll see you soon, buddy. Don't be afraid. Allura will fix you right up, okay?” Shiro soothed, giving Lance one last head rub before standing back and letting the pod seal shut. Lance yowled and put his paws up on the glass, panicking as purple mist flooded the chamber.

“Allura, now! For as long as you can, just picture Lance as his normal human self.” Coran instructed, as Allura glowed with the golden light of Quintessence. She held out her hands, and focused on Lance. Pidge secretly hit the mute button on the pod, because she knew this was gonna hurt, and she didn't want to be haunted by Lance's screams. Shiro tapped his metal fingers against his arm, worried and pale again.

It was a mere 12 hours before Allura gave out, her powers still relatively new. She panted and slumped to the ground, wheezing and exhausted. “I- I have done what I could, but manipulating two similar streams of Quintessence that are deeply entertwined is harder than it first seems.” She explained, as Coran helped her to her feet. Keith and Hunk had wandered down during this, and everyone waited with baited breath (and Hunk with an extra pair of boxers for Lance) as the pod opened up and spilled purple mist.

Shiro was the first one forward as a human shape fell out of the pod and into his arms, Hunk right next to him and draping a blanket over the shaking form that was clutching onto Shiro like a lifeline. Shiro inhaled sharply as a soft, fluffy shorthaired chocolate colored tail with lighter brown stripes brushed against his leg, and pointy cat ears flicked up and heard the noise he made. Lance, human yet with cat ears and a tail, who stopped shaking and went limp, unconscious. Shiro really hoped he wasn't blushing right now, because if it wasn't the cutest thing he'd ever seen in his life then he might as well shoot himself out into space this very second.

“Oh dear. Perhaps I did not untangle the knot of energy as well as I thought I did.” Allura murmured from the back. The shocked silence was broken by Pidge and Hunk's twin cooing noises and Keith's “Holy quiznak, what the hell-”. Shiro really wished the universe would give him a break here.

Black laughed.

// *RISES FROM THE ASHES OF WRITERS BLOCK LIKE A PROUD AND BLOODSTAINED WARRIOR* I LIVE~! Also I come bearing Shance and cat eared Lance :) So uh, how is Lance gonna react to all of this? I dunno, you'll have to wait and see ;)

#I WRITE AGAIN!#writer block free!#Cat AU #shance #cat!Lance #pidge is a nerd/geek #voltron #enjoy!!!

170 notes · View notes

buskidsburgade · 7 years

Text

Stand in the Rain

A/N: Skimmons, brotp or otp you can pick. Three times Jemma has a panic attack after the pod. Trigger warnings for panic attacks and ptsd.

~1900 words

Read on ao3

Her breath comes in sharp, wheezing pants that echo like the clatter of needles against the pristinely white bathroom tiles. High-pitched, uneven, searing in her collapsing chest. The metal shower knobs bite into her palms. They’re turned all the way off, but she feels that if she lets them go, the deluge would crash down on her again.

Jemma doesn’t know how long she’s been curled up on the damp, squishy shower mat. Long enough for her hair to dry in matted clumps that stick to her shoulders, for streaks of soap to crust over in sticky stripes down her arms. She scrambles for purchase, but there is nothing in this room to hold onto. White walls, white sink, white porcelain. Rough blue towels from Walmart, off-brand toothpaste, no pictures, no texts waiting on her phone for her, nothing personal.

She drags in another gulp of air that doesn’t seem to hold any oxygen. It’s water in her lungs, in her mouth. She’s drowning again, she is always drowning, why can’t she stop drowning?

What if Hydra found her out? What if they burst in and find her like this and this is how she dies? Drowning in an empty tub, too afraid to make it through a shower. Her chest is so tight and her stomach churns and her pulse roars in her ears like the surf, like wind as she falls, like –

There are footsteps in the apartment above hers. Someone laughs in the stairwell on the other side of the wall. A door rattles open down the hall. But her door is locked, and the bathroom door is locked, and nobody knows she’s here. Nobody’s coming unless it’s with bullets raining, and she has to keep holding back the deluge or she will drown.

She has to keep reminding herself that it’s over. That Agent Morse – Bobbi – saved her, and H.Y.D.R.A. is not going to murder her in her sleep. Probably. And yet, it doesn’t feel over. It doesn’t feel like she’s home. It doesn’t feel like she’s safe.

If she closes her eyes, though, sometimes she will catch familiar scents and know a moment of peace. Skye’s shampoo. Trip’s favorite take-out. The polish Coulson used on Lola. May still buys the same lilac dish soap, and Jemma is concentrating on that and not the sound of water streaming from the faucet as she rinses the mug of tea Fitz hadn’t drunk.

She inhales the scent of lilacs and tries to block out the sound of Trip and Mack and Hunter hooting over video games in the rec room. Trip caught her eye as she lingered in the doorway, trying to find her bearings in this strange place with these strange people. He’d gestured for her to join, but she’d glanced at Mack and shook her head, offering a smile that stretched too tight as she’d retreated down the hall.

She breathes out and pretends not to notice the way Skye skirts around her, grabbing a bowl and a box of cereal and the milk carton and going somewhere else to eat instead of staying in the tiny kitchen with her.

She breathed in and tries to wash Fitz’s voice, demanding an explanation for her disappearance, from her thoughts. Tries to wash away Mack’s hard words, looming height, cutting eyes, turning himself into a human shield in defense of her best friend. Against her.

She breathes out and thinks of Coulson’s hand on her shoulder and May’s relieved eyes and Bobbi standing between her and one of her worst nightmares come to life.

But the water is so loud.

Jemma slams the faucet handle down. The tinny patter of water against the metal basin stops abruptly. She presses the handle down with all her might, leaning into the sink, letting her forearm resting on the lip of the counter bear all her weight. She tries to get a hold on her stuttering breath, tries not to let it echo in the kitchen as it comes high and jagged.

There’s nothing in this room to hold onto. It’s cold and dark and unfamiliar. The mug slips from her fingers and cracks in the sink. She closes her eyes and tries to slow her hammering heart, but everything is spinning. The boys are whooping down the hall and Skye’s loud, boundless laughter reached her from somewhere and there is the ever-present hum of an active base that comes from all around, but no one’s coming . There’s not enough air in her lungs to scream even if she wants to.

Gunshots from the video game ricochet around the kitchen and she feels the whiz of Hydra bullets inches from her cheeks. Their eyes, hungry like wolves, bore into her, their smiles dripping blood. Their stained hands touching her shoulders, her arms, the small of her back. No, this alloy will hold up better … that chemical compound won’t work…I’d like to think I’m on your side . How much damage have her words done by now? How bloody are her lips?

She presses down harder on the handle, but the rushing still fills her ears, and Donnie Gill’s body is crashing into the water and he’s drowning and she can’t breathe.

III

She should have thought about it but she didn’t. Should have checked the weather. Noticed the pearly gray of the overcast sky. Made an excuse not to go, not risk putting herself here in this position. But she’d been too caught up in the mission, in what she was supposed to do, in what good could come out of her time at Hydra.

She doesn’t think about it until the first raindrop hits her face. Sharp and cold. An electric shock.

She’s kneeling in an alley, waiting for their Hydra target to appear, flash bomb in hand, ready for a drop of the right substance to set it off. Waiting until she sees his face. Skye and Trip and Hunter are in her ears, talking about the mark, talking about the mission. Trip says something and Skye laughs and she doesn’t follow because little shining droplets have started dappling the cement around her and the soft patter is all she can hear.

Her breath snags in her chest.

It’s just rain .

She forces her grip to ease on the delicate glass tube in her fist.

It’s just rain .

Rivulets trickle down her scalp like icy fingers.

It’s not just rain. The sky is bursting open, dropping cubic tons of water on top of them. The air is thick with moisture in her throat. Her heart is pounding hard and she would like to run, to seek shelter, to pull the covers over her head like she did in her hydra apartment the few times thunder rattled the windows, but the weight of all that water pins her where she kneels in the alley.

“Simmons, that our guy?” Hunter’s asking, and she tries to see, tries to squint into the storm, but all that’s there are sheets and sheets of water.

“Simmons?” Trip’s voice and she can’t answer, can’t pry words from her lips for him.

“Simmons, report,” Skye, anxious, concerned.

She can tell them nothing. Cannot ask for help. Cannot wave off their worry. Doesn’t know which she’d do anyway.

“Fuck, it is him - could really use that bomb right about now,” Hunter, breathless, probably leaping into combat.

It wouldn’t work well with the moisture even if she could see which way to throw it. She presses her back to the cold brick wall and drags in breath after breath, listens to the sounds of fighting and the others’ voices, all slowly drowned out by the rush of the rain.

There is nothing to hold onto. Nothing to stop the flood. She’s going to drown here.

Her skin has gone numb from the cold and possibly the hyperventilation when movement catches her eye. She doesn’t turn to look, can’t actually respond at all, but she sees the shape of a person emerging from the mist. And then suddenly Skye is kneeling in front of her, biting her lip anxiously.

“Jemma? Hey, can you hear me?”

Her voice comes from a long way away, but Jemma can hear it. She just can’t say so.

Skye slips her icy fingers into Jemma’s. “You don’t have to say anything, just try to squeeze my fingers if you can hear me, okay?”

Jemma tries. She really does. But it’s like the tether between her brain and body has been cut. She can’t even twitch a finger.

“Okay,” Skye says again, rubs her hands up and down Jemma’s arms as though she’s trying to warm her up. “Okay. It’s gonna be okay, alright? It’s gonna be fine.”

She pulls off her leather jacket and leans forward so she can tent it over both of them. Their faces are inches apart and the water has stopped hitting Jemma’s face and she can feel Skye’s warm breath mingling with her own and this is something to hold onto.

And eventually Jemma starts to thaw. Can move, first just to rub her thumb over the pads of her fingers, then enough to squeeze Skye’s knee, and somehow they stand up, and make it into a coffee shop down the block and the rain still coming down but in the back they can’t hear it over the soft rock and the sound of orders being called and she can take her first real breath in who knows how long.

“Dark Cloud says it’ll let up in ten minutes,” Skye reports. Her jacket is over Jemma’s shoulders and somehow there is a steaming cup of tea pressed between Jemma’s palms. She flips her phone around so Jemma can read the radar herself, see the proof that it’s not going to last forever. “The boys are gonna pick us up once it clears up.”

Jemma nods, tries a sip of the tea, blows out a shaky breath. Her stomach is still tight and her chest is still buzzing, but she can move and she keeps moving to remind herself. Drums her fingers on the cup, scrapes the toe of her shoe over the tile floor, jiggles a knee under the table. The clouds are going to pass and they are not going to drown.

Skye’s watching her. She leans forward, her face like she is going to say something, but then she changes her mind and looks over Jemma’s shoulder at the pastry shelf, leans back again, fidgets with hem of her soaked shirt, then the sugar packets.

“Look,” she says finally, splaying her hands on the table between them. “We don’t have to talk about this here - now - if you don’t want to but… has this… happened before?”

Heat rises to Jemma’s cheeks and her insides squirm and she doesn’t want to do this. But it has been so painfully painfully lonely, and here Skye is offering her a hand, a way out of the isolation of her own head and - she nods, can’t help but nod. Her cheeks burn and she stares down at the top of her cup, and she is probably going to regret that, regret admitting what a mess she’s become -

Skye reaches across the table to pry one of Jemma’s hands loose and her grip is warm and tight.

“We’re gonna work on that,” she says, promises, and Jemma grips her hand back and holds onto that.

#aosficnet2 #buskidsnet #misformarch #skimmons brotp or otp #Christa is a writer sometimes #brotp: bad girl shenanigans

32 notes · View notes