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sometimesanalice · 21 days

Text

Sun Stroke

Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader

Length: 8k

Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.

(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.

The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.

It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.

But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.

You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.

Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.

It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.

Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.

You were running late. You hate being late.

And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.

🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??

🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?

🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.

🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?

You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.

It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.

You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.

When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.

Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.

Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.

At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.

The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.

When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.

Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.

You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.

Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.

The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.

Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.

As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.

Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.

It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.

You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.

The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.

“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.

You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.

“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.

It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.

The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”

And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.

You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.

“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”

He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”

Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.

He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”

“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.

“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.

“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”

He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”

You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”

Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.” You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in.

“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”

His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.

The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.

God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.

“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”

Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.

The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.

“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.

You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.

Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.

“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.

You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.

“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.

You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”

He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”

“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.

“Claussen! The whole kind!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”

Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.

You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.

Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean.

Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.

Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.

“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.

“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”

You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.

“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”

He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.

“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”

You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.

Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.

Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.

“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.

He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up. Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.

Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger.

“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.

“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.

“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”

Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.

“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.

“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”

“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”

He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.

Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment.

However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him.

But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.

You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.

Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face.

Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.

How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.

You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.

“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.

“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”

Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.

“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”

The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.

As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper.

You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”

“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.

“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.

Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.

The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.

What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.

It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.

You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.

You feel fidgety and keyed up.

Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.

You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.

Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.

You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.

Fuck.

The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.

The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.

It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.

And then there was Rooster.

There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.

Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.

Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.

You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.

The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination.

When did Bradley get an ass like that?

The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.

Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.

Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.

And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.

The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.

You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.

You weren’t. You shouldn’t.

But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.

Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.

Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.

It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.

You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.

There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.

There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.

You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.

Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.

Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.

Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.

A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.

You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--

You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.

In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.

When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.

Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.

“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”

Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.

“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.

“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”

Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.

The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.

Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.

As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.

He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.

“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.

He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.

You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”

It’s late by the time you get back to your place.

It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.

It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet.

You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.

For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.

Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.

And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.

California was going to look good on you.

Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine

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dahliakbs · 21 days

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Damian Wayne x Child! Reader (Part 1) - This won't do —⁠☆

Synopsis: after seeing the state of your apartment Damian pulls some strings and changes your life on step at a time.

"Are your parents attending the pta meeting?" Damian asks.

After seeing the wretched state your house was in Damian chose to stand at the door.

The moldy yellow floor of your apart was covered in dirt and whatever substances you managed track back into the house. The walls in the same sorry state with a moldy yellow wallpaper that was covered in nasty cracks and stains that could never be removed.

The tiles of your flooring were covered in a bottomless pit of clothes and whatever else was in that pile. Your window didn't show some immaculate view of Gotham City instead it was closed off with would. Glass shards left on the floor in front of the window after a stray bullet was shot through your window.

"Oh my Dad, he's not coming" you say as you make your way towards your kitchen.

Damian couldn't bare looking into the kitchen to see what mess was made in their so he chose to stair the ceiling instead.

"Why not?" He tilts his head to the side, he was told by Alfred that events like these were the only way to see how your child was progressing and apparently it was mandatory for parents to attend so why weren't your coming?

"Oh, my parents are dead" you said as if It didn't bother you and it didn't.

Your mother had sadly passed away during child birth.

Your dad tho...

He was a piece of work, never cared for your well-being AT ALL. You basically raised yourself in this house. The only reason you hadn't starved yet was because your father left food in the cupboard for you to use (mostly unhealthy cheap food).

You barely ever saw your dad and when he died you hadn't even noticed, not like he ever came home anyway. The only way you knew was when the news broadcast came on and you saw a blurred out image of a man that vaguely resembled your father.

There were several gunshot holes scattered around the figures body and by the looks of it he was probably just getting off of work before the death occurred.

The situation never bothered you, having no adults around was a blessing if anything.

"My parents can't come but I'll wait with you until your dad does" you replied and gasped when you found what you were looking for.

"Dami you have to try one" you turned to him with a cup of ramen noodles in hand.

"No thank you, aren't there other options?" he asked as he began to list off foods he'd already eaten before.

Safe to say, you hadn't even know those foods existed or eaten anything that wasn't microwavable.

This wouldn't do.

When he left your house that evening he made it his mission to find a way to get you out of that situation.

And that he did, when the day of the PTA meeting arrives Damian is oddly quiet. Not as if he talked much anyway.

While you both waited for his dad to finish speaking with the teachers he'd a held a tight grip on your hand as if to silently tell you not to run off anywhere.

"Dami I still don't know why you told me to bring all my stuff with me, are we having a sleepover?" You asked, you were told to bring all necessities which means that you needed your tooth brush and whatever you could salvage from that mess of a house.

"You'll know when we get there" he said calmly which only made your excitement grown even more. He was already pretty used to your energetic behavior so this was nothing.

At last the meeting had finished and you were all exiting he building.

"Is this the friend you told me about Damian" his father spoke up only to receive a nod in return.

You had never noticed how eerily similar they look but now that you were stood right before him you realized noticed the shared features.

"(Reader) right" Bruce got down in one knee so he could speak to you at eye level. Now, extending invitations to join the family weren't an everyday occurrence but if his son was so hard pressed on your living conditions and even brought up good points as to why you can't live there.

Plus he knew you were a good kid.

"A little Birdy informed me of your living conditions and they wanted me to extend an exciting offer to you" he spoke to you in a way that made your excitement peak.

You were so excited that you hadn't even noticed when you got in the car or when you arrived at the manor or when you arrived at Damian's bedroom door.

For you everything went by quickly, so quickly that when you woke up the next morning you couldn't even remember why you were in Damian's house or why you were currently bundled up across from his sleeping face.

He must've bundled you up while you were asleep. He was always considerate but rarely ever showed you that side of him.

"Dami, I need to go home" you said groggily.

"Your not going anywhere" he instantly replied.

"But I can't stay here forever, I need to go home" you said in a worried tone but he only raised a brow.

"I knew you weren't listening" he sighed.

"Just go back to sleep" he waved his hand in front if your face which seemed to do the trick because you were knocked out within seconds.

And just like that you were silently adopted into the family.

#batfam #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfamily #damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian al ghul x reader #damian wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batman #batman x child! reader #batman x child reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #dc x you #dc #dc x reader

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melminli · 4 months

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Cold Coffee

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - you liked working, and someone else liked you working for them.

word count: 2k+

contains: young president coryo, crack, fluff, secretary reader, coryo being lovesick and shy

You had a routine. A routine that you strictly followed every day and it started with your alarm clock waking you up at 5 o'clock in the morning. The first thing you did was get up and go to the bathroom to wash the sleep off your face, otherwise you couldn't get anything done. After you had finished everything else concerning your hygiene, you continued with your outfit of the day.

You liked to play around a bit when it came to your fashion choices. After all, you were living in the Capitol. Your job still demanded a certain formality and professionalism, which is why you were perhaps not as free in your choice as others, but that wasn't a problem for you. You always managed to find something elegant to wear since you had all kinds of clothing in different colors and fabrics that were perfect for combining with various other items. Whether vests, suit jackets, skirts, trousers or everything all together, it was entirely up to your mood. (Even though combining everything together was something you hadn't done since your school days at the academy.).

Then the last thing left missing was your hair and maybe some make-up, before you could step out of the house with your pre-packed bag. After a 15-minute drive in your car, you would arrive a few minutes early and were able to go about your duties as planned until it was time to leave at around 4 pm (if you were lucky).

You've been doing this every day for three years. Every day. That may sound exhausting (because it is), but you were also kind of happy about it since missing work would just mean that you had more to do on the following one. You rarely got sick, but when you did it was usually nothing serious so you came to work anyway. On the two rare occasions when you were really seriously ill, you were once off work and once you were lucky (or unlucky) that it was at the time of several public holidays. So yes, you haven't missed a single day of work - until today.

Your alarm clock died in the middle of the night.

"...huh - what's happening?" You asked, slightly drowsy, and it felt like you'd been asleep for far too long, a suspicious amount of long. Your eyes glanced at the clock on your wall, and you had to concentrate to keep the image from blurring. "...It's a quarter past seven." You finally realized, before widening your eyes and jumping out of bed. "It's a quarter past seven! I'm going to be late!"

In your stress to get ready quickly, you decided to get dressed first and quickly picked something out before scurrying to the bathroom to get ready. That was your mistake because while being a bit too hectic when brushing your teeth, you were clumsy enough to get toothpaste on your shirt. "No, no, no - ugh. I can't believe this." You whined and hurried so you could change again.

Hair? fine, make-up? Fuck it - okay, just go out and get in the car. At this point, you were already a whole hour late. When you arrived at the place where your car was supposed to be and couldn't see it, you started to panic and it didn't stop when you realized why. It's in the repair shop! Why, does this have to happen to me?!

"Okay, let's calm down for a minute." You said to yourself and took a deep breath of the cold morning air. It was quiet, only the chirping of the birds could be heard, it was still early in the morning. "That's just the way it is now. I'll just let someone know I'll be late and - " You said and took out your phone, only to realize that it was dead. This all was probably due to a power cut in the night, which also explained why your alarm clock wasn't working this morning. " - alright, I won't do that then. It's cool. Everything's cool."

Your day was off to a pretty bad start already. It would take you at least half an hour to get to work with the train, and you'd have to wait another half an hour since the last one left five minutes ago according to your watch. Yes, the morning commute wasn't exactly popular in the Capitol - the people here usually preferred to sleep in.

"You know what? I'm just going to treat myself to my favorite drink in my favorite café. I really can't do this right now." You finally decide and set off a little more relaxed. "I would argue that I don't get paid enough for this, but I actually get paid pretty well." You admitted but didn't care any more than to laugh about it.

Of course, no one would assume that the secretary to the president of Panem would get a bad wage.

Hm. Coriolanus looked at his watch again. His eyes had been darting there strangely often since this morning. Well, he didn't see you at all today, and normally you would greet him on the way to his office, and he would greet you back. After a while, you would come through the door and ask if he wanted coffee while you were already carrying it to him in your hand. This was followed by a little summary from you about what appointments he had today, who he was meeting and so on - it's not that important, the point is that he hasn't seen you yet and he didn't know why.

He got up from his seat and opened the door of his office to look out, but like before, you weren't sitting in your seat at the reception desk.

He then decided to look for his nearest employee. "Excuse me, Mr. Pox. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. " He announced his presence as he knocked lightly on the open door with his knuckles.

The man immediately stood up slightly nervously in order to appear respectful. He was older than Coriolanus, but he also wasn't the president. "You're not interrupting anything, sir! How can I help you?" He asked, a little confused. Oh no, he never asks me anything personally, I hope it's nothing serious. I'm not in trouble, am I?

Coriolanus reassured him as he subtly asked his question. "Well, I was just wondering where my secretary was. You wouldn't happen to know anything about her whereabouts?" He said, thinking it was a little stupid of him for not wanting to appear conspicuous. She works for me. I have the right to know where she is. This is not in any way inappropriate.

Pox was relieved when it turned out that this wasn't about him, but immediately felt a little guilty because you seemed to be in trouble. You were his nicest colleague, he liked you a lot. But I can't just lie to the president either. He's literally the president! He'll certainly find out if I do. "No, sir. Unfortunately not, she didn't tell me anything." He replied and just watched as the man in front of him hummed absently, which is why he quickly added. "Maybe she's just late?"

If that were the case, you'd already be three hours late. That was not like you, and Coriolanus began to subconsciously worry a little. She would let me know if she was going to be late. He thought to himself until he realized that you had never been late before, so he couldn't be too sure of his theory. Because that was what it was - just a theory. "Hm. All right, thanks for your time, see you then." He said goodbye to Pox and decided to go back to his office.

There wasn't really anything else he could do - well, except maybe call you. He stopped his steps for a moment at the thought. That feels wrong. Usually, you were the one who called him regularly or barged into his office so he didn't really have to. Well, sometimes he wanted to, but he doubted you would appreciate it if he contacted you after your working hours. He sometimes wished that his thoughts of you would end with your departure, but he hadn't really been successful yet, and for god's sake, he didn't know why. Well, I do - but it's complicated. She's my secretary and this isn't a stupid rom com.

He saw you all day. That is enough. It should be enough. It wasn't like he was looking forward to monday or anything since you started working for him - well, he was, but that was because of other things, for sure. It could be because of other things, he could find joy in other things.

"Oh, Mr. Snow. There you are." Your voice surprised him as he opened the door to his own office and was greated with your face in front of his. "I wanted to talk to you, but then you weren't here. I'm sorry I got in without your permission." You apologized sincerely and took a step to the side so he could enter.

"It's all good. You don't need to apologize." Coriolanus said calmly and sat down in his seat, subtly watching you move in front of his desk. "What is it?" He asked, appearing unaffected - as if he hadn't been thinking about you and what you were doing since this morning.

You looked slightly confused. "Well, I'm three hours late for work." You announced, sure that he would have noticed. "I know this can't be excused, and I'll get straight to work to make up for it, I promise. It's just that my car has a few issues and, well..." You assured him and placed a paper cup on his table. "I know I usually bring you coffee, and this is not the expensive one from here, but from my favorite café around the corner, but well..." You started rambling a bit and were a little more talkative than usual, which didn't go unnoticed. "...It also got cold on the way, and I spilled half of it because someone ran into me on the train." You added when you noticed how his gaze shifted to the stain at your side.

"Sounds like you had a pretty exciting morning. It's all right, don't worry, I'll turn a blind eye since it's the first time." Coriolanus replied with his slightly charming smile. You usually told him so little about your personal life that he unconsciously began to appreciate the little things he got to hear from you.

Like no, he didn't want to hear another stupid story about Mr. Aliose and his fucking hamsters. He almost felt sorry for the guys patheticness, maybe he could live a happier life if he put more effort into finding a wife than getting his pet to do a roll. Or from his other employees who tried to entertain him with uninteresting personal stories he didn't care about - because he didn't care about them.

And the one person he did actually want to hear from, kept their personal and work life very separate. He hated that it wasn't the other way around.

You nodded. "You don't even know. I don't expect you to drink this, by the way. As a matter of fact, I'll make you another one right now. It's just that - I worked really hard to get this to you, and it felt wrong to just throw it in the trash in the end." You let that bit out before returning to your professional self. "I just wanted that at least one thing would go right today."

Stay cool, Coriolanus. Don't freak out, and also, stop romanticizing this. "It's all good. I'm honored that you thought of me." He said, hoping he sounded natural.

A smile graced your face. "Of course, Mr. Snow. I'll be right back." You promised him as you stepped out of his office and made your way to the coffee machine.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Coriolanus let out the breath he had been holding. His hand reached for the coffee cup and turned it in his hand only to discover a small note on it. "For my boss and the boss of Panem :)" He read out loud and smiled as his thumb ran over the drawing of the snowflake. He couldn't help but take the little gesture to heart. "That's so sweet."

I should send out a car to pick her up tomorrow - for business reasons, of course.

#x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas #coryo snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #bosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus #snow #snow lands on top #x female y/n #x female reader

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augustinbluex · 8 months

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shoplifter

Pairings: Step Dad Mark x Security Guard Jeno x afab Reader

Summary: when you got caught stealing in a sex shop, you thought you'd earn another lecture from your stepdad. however, the lesson was not what you’d excepted

Genre: smut

Warnings: noncon elements, unprotected sex (be safe!), anal sex, rough sex, threesome, stepcest, double penetration, face slapping, pussy slapping, humiliation, degradation, fingering, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, creampie, overstimulation.

Word count: 3k+

THIS IS NOT YOUR TYPICAL GIRL DINNER. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

You sat there, your gaze fixated on the ticking clock, the anticipation clawing at your nerves. The wait was killing you—you’d been caught in this stupid fucking store, having maybe tried to leave without paying. The rent-a-cop had seized you, dragging you into the dimly lit backroom, but you managed to pull the name of Mark Lee out of your pocket like a desperate trump card. A way to escape the clutches of this predicament. The guard had glowered at you, reluctantly agreeing to make the call.

Mark would undoubtedly give you hell for this, yet he would also ensure that this embarrassing incident remained hidden from prying eyes. He wouldn't want the world to know that his step-daughter had been caught in the act of petty larceny within the confines of a sex shop.

So, all you had to do was wait.

The guard had given you a hard time when you dropped Mark's name. As if your father—no, your stepfather, you had corrected him—being who you claimed, he was automatically invalidated any suspicion. According to the guard, if your lineage held true, you could afford those tantalizing toys and bottles of lubricant. And perhaps, on some level, the thrill of doing something forbidden excited you. You had made sure to emphasize that point, emphasizing both the ‘naughty’ and the ‘excited’.

Too bad your criminal career apparently went bust on your first heist.

Voices echoed outside the closed door. There was an edge to Mark's voice, a tone that sent a shiver down your spine. The guard, on the other hand, seemed to find immense amusement. Telling the rich and powerful that their children got busted stealing sex toys probably was the highlight of this guy’s week.

"Hi, Mark," you greeted him, mustering a demure smile as the door swung open.

"You have no idea how disappointed I am in you," he responded, his gaze cold and piercing. Gesturing towards the desk, he continued, his voice laced with disdain, "I've already had a chat with Jeno here... but I'd like to hear it from you. Did you steal these items?"

His eyes settled upon the incriminating evidence displayed on the desk—the dildo and the bottle of lube, silent witnesses to your foolishness. You merely shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that seemed to catch him off guard.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "You've been acting out, breaking rules since..."

"Since my mother died," you finished his unspoken words with a bitter edge.

The truth was, you had been defying rules long before that tragic event shattered your world. It was just that Mark had finally taken notice of your rebellious streak, particularly after he started sending you to that exclusive, expensive school and footing the bill for your reckless driving tickets. It had hurt, realizing that he only seemed to experience distant emotions—distant disappointment, distant pride, distant everything. But it wasn't you who had changed when the loss struck.

Still, you couldn't help but resent his attempt to guilt trip you using your mother's death. "Save the 'since your mom died' lecture for the drive home," you said sharply.

Mark scowled, a realization dawning upon you that you had never seen him truly angry. He had always kept his emotions at arm's length—detached disappointment, detached pride—those were the only versions of him you had witnessed lately. "Why did you do this?" he demanded, his voice laced with frustration.

"Because I wanted the damn dildo," you replied matter-of-factly. Your words hung in the air, unapologetic and unyielding. It didn't faze Mark. You even contemplated mentioning how lonely this summer would be since he had forbidden you from seeing those he deemed "bad influences."

"I understand, you know," Mark said, his voice devoid of its usual robotic tone. “And you could’ve paid for it, you have the money. I wouldn’t have judged you. We all need a release.”

You maintained your stance, reiterating and emphasizing your reasons. He just simply nodded. As you prepared to urge him forward, his hand landed firmly on your shoulder, and Jeno, the guard, promptly shut the door.

“Mark, wha–”

Confusion tinged your voice as you questioned what was happening, but the air in the room suddenly grew colder, the atmosphere thick with tension.

"As I mentioned, I spoke to Jeno," he began, his voice chillingly detached. "He won't pursue legal charges, and I've taken care of the stolen merchandise. However..." He paused, his words hanging ominously in the air, "I believe it's time for you to learn a lesson."

In an instant, the fabric of your shirt was torn away, leaving you gasping in surprise. Before you could react, Mark forcefully maneuvered you across the room, bending you over the edge of the desk. Shock and fear coursed through your veins as you struggled to comprehend his actions.

"What are you doing?" You exclaimed, your voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and fear.

He leaned in close, his grip tightening on a fistful of your hair. "Sweetheart, we all have to control our desires and restrain our darker impulses," he whispered, his words laced with an unsettling intensity.

Your voice quivered as you registered the pressure against you, feeling something hard pressing into you. "What?!" you managed to utter, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events.

“I’ve watched you prance around, debasing yourself, and I tried to reign myself in, thinking you just needed time. Time’s up.” With a forceful grip, he tore your skirt away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. "You've continued to defy me, and now it's time for you to understand the consequences of letting others have their way."

You tried to twist and strike him, but the guard grabbed your arms, wrestled them behind your back, and cuffed them. “Your daddy paid for some more toys as well.”

You struggled in vain, yelled your head off, and screamed when a hand dipped underneath your underwear and rubbed your pussy. It was only when Jeno cut you off by forcing a cloth into your mouth that you realized that it was Mark’s. You thrashed and moaned when a finger entered you. Your body shuddered, going very still when the next one entered, stroking inside.

“I wonder if this will be an effective punishment. She seems to be enjoying it.”

You shook your head and let out a furious growl until Mark pulled you up, working you over with his fingers. “You’re already wet, huh?” He asked, though it didn’t feel like a question. It felt like an observation, like he’s commenting on the weather and not your obvious arousal. “Jeno, come look at her. She’s so needy.”

“Fuck, she’s so turned on by this.” Jeno said, licking his lips as he looked down at you. He grabbed your bra and tugged, straps biting into your skin until they gave way. You squealed when he pinched a nipple. Sobbed when, while fondling that breast, he put his mouth on the other.

You shook your head. This was not happening. Your stepfather and some rent-a-cop were not raping you in a backroom at a sex shop. You were not, despite Mark’s assertions, ‘dripping wet’. You did not like being manhandled by two guys who knew what they were doing.

This was not happening.

You looked up, seeing Jeno pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Your eyes immediately went back to the odd stains in the ground when they landed on Mark. You were certainly not intimidated by seeing your stepdad’s cock.

“This is your place of business, Jeno. So I’ll let you pick, which hole do you want?”

Okay, he had humiliated you, fondled you, but your stepdad wasn’t going to fuck you. He wasn’t going to team with some random asshole to fuck you.

“Ass.”

“Grease her up.”

You stiffened at that. Jeno tossed a bottle—that lubricant you stole, over to Mark, who had managed to wrestle your panties off you as while warding off your attempts to kick him. You tried thrashing and wriggling when they held you down and two slick fingers pressed into your ass. You never let anyone there before, and you were not going to let it happen now. You tensed, clenched, and let out a cry as the man forced his fingers inside you. Someone slapped your ass hard.

“It’ll hurt more if you keep being a stubborn bitch.” Jeno growled.

An angry, forced cough from Mark, and he corrected himself. “It’ll hurt more if you keep being stubborn.”

Apparently his stepdaughter was not a bitch, even if he was going to rape you. That was almost funny. Then your ass was slapped again and again. Mark fingered you roughly, forcing his digits in and twisting. Eventually, you yielded, relaxing your muscles. It did not go unnoticed.

“See, baby? You can be a good girl.”

Jeno stood up and walked over to the chair, sitting down and motioning towards himself. With a grunt, Mark hoisted you over his shoulder—damn, he was in shape—and approached. As much as you tried to break free, you couldn’t. Then Mark positioned you, and Jeno put one his hands on your hip. Something much thicker than those fingers pressed against your ass. You let out a muffled attempt at a “no” as you were pulled down.

He was big.

You yowled, planted your feet on the floor and tried to stand; only for Jeno’s arms to loop around your waist and pull you back down.

”Goddamn… Relax your stiff little body, you bitch… My cock won’t fit if you are so tight.” Jeno grunted into your ear and then moved his hand to your chin, taking out the gag. His thumb slipped inside your mouth, pressing at the back of your throat.

Somewhere in the back of your head as you were lifted up and down, you were thankful for that—hopefully he wouldn’t last long.

You didn’t think you could last if he didn’t finish right quick.

“Tell me how good I’m fucking your greedy little ass.” Jeno growled into your ear, a hand flicking down to rub your clit.

Your legs were struggling to stay wrapped around his, and you whimpered against his neck. Getting no response, his hand that was rubbing your clit now slapped you across the face, and his thrusts slowed yet got harder as he slapped you once more.

“What the fuck did I say? Tell me how good I’m fucking your ass!” He yelled, grabbing you by the chin to look up at him.

Your eyes stung with hot tears from the pleasure, already feeling the all too familiar knot in your stomach forming. “Please! It feels so good! M’want more!” You said through gritted teeth, whining in pleasure as he slapped you across the face once more.

“You dirty fucking whore, giving you my cock and you still want more, hmm?” Jeno knew you were close, he could tell from the way you tightened around him and from your breathing pattern. Your eyes flicked over to Mark, who now was walking over to you.

“Oh? Seems like our little whore’s enjoying this better than I thought.” He said, “I had a feeling you had the makings of a true anal slut here.”

You heard a loud ‘smack’ followed by a sharp stinging sensation exploding all over your pussy as you were suddenly spanked. Causing it to clench around nothing.

“Shit. You were right man, she’s so fucking tight. She really might be an anal slut by the end of this.” Jeno grunted, laughing. His hips never stopped moving.

“Really now,” Mark chuckled as he cupped your chin, “Anything you want to say to that, baby?”

“Th-That’s not-” You knew you were full of shit, but your pride didn’t want to admit to something embarrassing like that. With a gasp, you found yourself in a headlock. Your back was pressed against Jeno’s front, his forearm applied pressure on your windpipe.

“Now, now, it’s not good to lie like that.” He licked your face, gnawing at your earlobe. “Bad girls like you should be punished.”

“I-I’m… N-Not a bad…” You tried to deny it, but the harsh grip around your neck made it hard to get the words out. Yet in some ways, you could only think about how good this was feeling. Causing your pussy to quiver and your ass coiling around.

Mark smirked with an amused brow, “I’m sorry, don’t think we caught that.’

“I-I’m…”

The man leaned in closer, “Hm?”

“I’m… bad… girl..” You uttered.

They glanced at each other and grinned while Jeno grabbed and groped at your breasts, giving your chest a nice fondle.

“Speak up slut,” he twisted a nipple causing you to moan, “So that we could hear you.”

You looked up, tears started falling down your face. “I’m… a bad… girl…”

“That’s our girl,” The two cheered, laughing loudly at how cock-drunken you were. “Glad to see you’re finally realizing your true calling.” One of them said.

“With that said, I think it’s high time I gave you a little reward.” An evil smirk curled Mark’s lips. You wriggled, trying to get off as he traced his fingers against your pussy. “Just as a curiosity, have you ever taken two cocks before?”

“No,” you said, out of breath.

“Yeah, thought so.” He grabbed onto your hips lining his cock up to your cunt, while Jeno leaned you back a little.

Fuck. Mark smirked and watched as your face twisted into something horrified.

“Look at that, your old man is coming to join in. You gonna behave for him? Hmm, princess?”

With those words leaving Jeno’s mouth, it sent you over the edge completely, nearly screaming as you came right when Mark shoved his cock in your pussy. He hissed with how tightly you were clenching around him. Your back arched high, and Jeno continued to pound into your ass. You choked and gasped for air, the pleasure became too much for you to handle.

“P-please… S-stop!” you stuttered pathetically, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to push Mark away with your legs.

You were stuffed past the point you thought you would burst. They started out uncoordinated, being bounced up and down the big guy’s cock while the other slammed in awkwardly. But they soon found a rhythm, each withdrawing at the same time, and slamming you down on their cocks tougher. Over and over.

It was overwhelming.

“Look at your slutty fucking stepdaughter, Mark. Such a little whore,” Jeno laughed, continuing to abuse your ass with his cock.

Mark smirked as he flicked your nipple, “Does your daddy’s cock feel good inside you, princess?” then gave it a painful twist. “Wanna be a little cumslut?”

You just moaned in response, unable to form coherent words.

“I think,” Jeno reached up and pinched at your other nipple, “your daddy asked you a question.”

“Yes! Yes, I wanna be your little cumslut, please.”

Everything happening all at once was making you lose your breath. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach. Both of the cocks hitting that sweet spot inside you. Before you even had time to react, you saw white. Your whole body lunged forward as you came around both of their cocks again, soaking them. Words couldn’t even leave your open mouth, your brain not working properly.

“Jesus Christ,” a voice said, and you couldn’t register whose. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” another one came. “She squirted with two cocks fucking her. Such a dirty slut, aren't you?” Several slaps landed onto your face. You assumed it’s Mark because of his position.

You couldn’t think straight anymore, body shaking pathetically under him.

“T-too… much,” you whimpered through gritted teeth, your knees moving to try and push Jeno away.

Mark roughly forced his cock back in your pussy, his own orgasm so close. With sporadic quick thrusts, Jeno bottomed out inside your ass, and you could feel it all, warm and coating every inch of your walls. You were screaming, and he held his cock inside you for a few moments before slowly pulling out of you, grunting and panting as he regained himself.

Mark’s hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing hard and grunting as you clawed at his hands. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, and you’re gonna take it all, right princess? Gonna be stuffed full of our cum?” He growled into your ear, before straightening again.

You couldn’t think straight anymore, sobs and moans escaping your lips as he fucked your sensitive cunt. Within seconds, Mark thrusted one last time into you before you felt his thick load spurting inside of you. He let out an animalistic growl as he came, grinding his hips slowly against you.

When he finished, he paused a while, nipping at your neck. Then he pulled out, and you were shoved off Jeno, sent sprawling into your stepfather. He gently laid you on your side. You laid there, face pressed against the filthy floor as clothes rustled.

“Again, thank you for calling me in on this, fuckface.” Mark said. The hell? He knew the fucking rent-a-cop.

“No worries. I didn’t believe her when she dropped your name—the picture you showed didn't quite match up.”

Picture? You forced yourself to look at the two, both half-dressed.

Mark had opened his wallet. “It is a few years old. She started dying her hair shortly after it was taken. Started wearing contacts, too.”

“What?”

“Ah, baby. Yes, me and Jeno go fairly far back.” Mark said, nodding. “I have a lot of business interests, and that means a lot of varied social circles.”

“So… about her…” Jeno said, trailing off.

Mark shrugged, contemplating the situation. "I'll leave her in your hands while I head home to fetch a change of clothes for her. Once that's done, we can make a few calls to ensure the lesson continues."

A whimper escaped your lips, particularly as Mark referred to leaving you in Jeno's "care." As if on cue, he dumped a bag containing chains and clamps onto the desk, casting a wicked grin in your direction. You instinctively tried to edge away, but Mark leaned in closely, lowering himself to one knee.

"Luckily for you, summer vacation has just begun, so you won't miss any school while you're grounded," he stated firmly, his tone holding an unusual warmth. You shook your head, refusing to accept what was unfolding before you.

"Baby," he continued, "it's crucial for you to learn that actions come with consequences. However, you're a smart girl, and with proper guidance, I'm confident we can improve your behavior."

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mrchiipchrome · 3 months

Text

The Mechanic

W.C. - 4.2k

A/n: This was a bit rushed and not very good but anyways I’m going to bed now

——————————

Growing up, your father had been a mechanic and when you had days off from school he would bring you down to the auto shop he owned and worked at. Later, that would turn into you spending your afternoons and weekends down at the shop, learning everything there was to know about cars and how to repair them.

After graduating secondary school you were employed by the shop you had grown up in, rising through the ranks like any usual person would their job. You had close to no help from your father after your employment, he had always been clear that you had to work to get to your position especially if you wanted to one day inherit the shop.

So when your father died, you had more than enough experience with how to run an auto shop. In reality you were nothing less than a parentless kid trying to navigate their way through life without their biggest role model and simultaneous favorite person.

But eventually you found your footing, with the help of a bit of therapy that you'd gone to reluctantly, and had managed to find the balance between repairing cars and handling everything else that came with owning your own mechanic shop.

Still you consider yourself lucky, lucky for having Mitch who had been helping you with all the financials and all the other confusing things.

Mitch, or as you knew him Uncle Mitch, had been one of your father’s childhood friends and had been around since before you had been born. He was there for your father when your mother decided that she didn’t want to be part of your life and when he had no choice but to become a single father. He took you to school on the days your father couldn’t and helped you with school work.

So when a very pretty girl with car problems appeared one day, he was the first one to tease you about your obvious starstruck behavior.

—-

08.00 on a thursday and you’ve already been at work for a few hours, finishing up some paperwork and a couple small repairs on easier cars before all the other mechanics came in at 9. Hearing someone walk in through the open garage door is not an unusual feat, in fact you were used to your other mechanics coming in a bit earlier, so when uncertain footsteps echo in the peopleless shop you don’t roll out from where you’re situated under the car.

“Um, hi. My car just broke down like 2 minutes from here and I have no idea what to do.”

The soft fleeting voice is feminine and unfamiliar, definitely not one of your mechanics with their gruff chain smoking voices. Your head perks up and the hand holding the wrench from your tool set stills. With hands covered in soot and oil like most of your work clothes, you slide out from your place underneath the car.

“What seems to be the problem with it? Did it indicate something might've been wrong before it broke down? Any unusual sounds…?” Your voice trails off as you see the gorgeous blonde standing there looking around in curiosity, seeing all the different cars around the large shop. You just stand there, like an idiot seemingly enamored by the pretty stranger in front of you. She doesn’t seem to acknowledge your clear inability to act like a normal human as she directs her eyes toward you, eyes not even the greatest poets could try to describe.

The woman fiddles with the rings adorning her slender fingers as she rushes to explain the moments prior to her car stopping functioning.

“Oh god, yeah. I was supposed to come in for an oil change but then out of nowhere, my car started to make these kinds of crunching sounds and then there was a slight pop before it just broke down. Since I was supposed to come here, I knew it wasn’t that far so I left it with my friend and ran here for help”

The stress she’s feeling is evident in her actions and a surprising sense of protectiveness overtakes you, a feeling you can only describe as wanting to wrap her up in bubble wrap and protect her from the cruel world.

“Alright, have you called a tow truck yet?” The blush that immediately covers her face indicates that she had not, apparently not thinking that far. A sly smile takes over your face, fingers wrapping around a towel laying haphazardly on the deep red metal bench.

The soot and grime your fingers are covered in transfers over to the white surface of the towel, more soot at your hairline and your nose.

“You’re in luck miss, we have our very own tow truck.” Your hands shake deliberately as you try to lighten the mood, leading the blonde girl over to the regular truck you had. It was an old model, but damn if that car didn’t run perfectly. It had been a gift from Mitch for your 18th birthday, he knew that you adored putting excessive amounts of effort into your projects, and that car was truly a piece of work.

It had taken you a few short weeks to get it done, you were somewhat of a prodigy.

“Hey, take the passenger seat! I need you to show me where your car broke down.” You shouted as the blonde girl made no motion to move in any direction. She slowly shuffles her feet towards the car,enjoying the way your eyes raked over her body.

“Okay, so basically it’s just up the road, you’ll see a tiny dutchie standing beside it panicking.” She laughs softly as the last words escape her mouth, and in that exact moment you decide that it’s the greatest, most beautifully enticing melody ever created.

Your eyes are glued to the road, knowing that if you were to look into her eyes once more you’d get stuck looking at her. She felt like home even though you’d just met her moments before.

“Oh yeah? Why do you have a tiny Dutch person in your car?” The banter with you the girl you’d yet to get the name of was like you’d been friends for decades, you easily bounced retorts back and forth like great friends would.

“My teammate, we were driving to training and then my car decided that it didn’t want to work anymore. Wait, I haven’t phoned Jonas yet, I’m so dead.” You didn’t understand what she was talking about at the last part, the girl seemingly talking to herself.

Just like the woman beside you had said, there was a seemingly frantic short woman besides a white Mercedes. “How’d you know?” You ask the woman sitting in your car, her expression silly beyond comprehension. Her tongue was trapped between her teeth, her bright smile on display and her nose scrunched up adorably.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, right?” She fixes you with another cheeky smile, dark pink lips pulled together in the most admirable way. She was nothing if not perfect.

Her eyes shine brightly as you pull up next to her blinking car, the Dutch girl pulling the door open with a surprising amount of strength.

“Less, we are so late, Jonas is going to kill us!” Her foreign accent is quite noticeable, not that it bothers you. What did bother you was the way she threw the door of your beloved car up so violently.

“Yeah Vic, I know.” Less, as you’d come to know, told the other girl, Vic. Vic’s eyes flit over to you, taking in your non-threatening appearance and awkward smile. You wave at her before exiting your truck.

“So if you don’t mind, I’ll just pop your hood and try to find the problem.” You spoke to the taller of the two girls in front of you, who nodded her head vigorously, allowing you to do whatever it was you needed.

The smoke that escaped from beneath the hood concerned you, as did the heat of the motor beneath your fingers. It didn’t look too good for the blonde’s car, but for both her and your sake, you didn’t tell her.

“Well it’s definitely a problem with the engine, that much I’ll tell you.” A bit of worry seeps into your tone and Alessia doesn’t seem to like it.

“But my car will be fine right?” She was worried beyond recognition.

“Yeah, they say that I’ve got magic fingers for a reason” You sent her a quick wink, the statement true in both ways. The blonde’s face darkened significantly, red sprouting at every soft turn of the face.

“Okay there Casanova, why don’t you just hook the car to yours and take it back to the shop?” The dutchie’s tone left no room for argument, clearly she was protective of the blonde.

Pulling the wires from your trunk, you quickly hooked her car to yours in a safe way, making sure that her keys were out of the ignition and that her car was completely turned off.

Vic jumped into the backseat begrudgingly whilst Less took her place in the passenger seat.

You drove back to the garage in a slow pace, not wanting to damage the car behind more, plus you got to have the beautiful blonde in your car for longer.

“Less, how are we supposed to get to training if your car’s like that?” The girl in the backseat frowns at the blonde through the mirror, but you’re already multiple steps ahead, having put your thinking hat on before.

“I can drive you, and if y’all want we can take my coolest car too.” You spoke up nonchalantly, even though you were riddled with anxiety inside.

Less shakes her head softly, putting a soft and warm hand on your shoulder, stroking down your arm.

“It’s no problem really, we’ll just take an Uber.” She waves you off, despite seeming quite excited at the prospect of showing up to ‘training’ in a cool car.

“It’s no bother, my mechanics don’t come in until 9 so I’ve got time to kill. Plus, I haven’t been able to take the baby out for a while, needed to fix her up a little after the last time.” You laugh out, hand coming up to rub at the back of your head as you pull into the workshop.

“Take your things from your car and follow me.” The two of them do exactly as you say, getting their duffle bags from the white car.

You take them to the very back of the workshop, back to the garage where you kept your most prized possessions. In the smack middle it stood, your baby.

A 1968 Ford Mustang.

It was a gorgeous, shiny black color and you’d picked up a fair few ladies with it, just like your father did before you. He’d got it from his father, they’d started working on it before your grandfather died, and your father vowed to complete the work with his child.

Unluckily, your very own father died before the project was done, and so you were left to finish it.

“Here’s my beauty, my 1968 Ford Mustang, ain’t she a beaut?” You asked the two girls, standing behind you with their mouths wide open.

“Where’d you get it? Aren’t they super expensive?” Vic asked and Less slapped her arm harshly at the latter question.

“Passed down to me and yes, they’re incredibly expensive.” You could see how their eyes looked over your car, it was safe, modernized just enough so that it wouldn’t lose its charm.

“Right, you two can squabble about who sits in the passenger seat and who sits in the back, I’ll take your bags though, no scratching my paint.” You pluck their bags from their hands and put them in the trunk whilst Less and Vic actually squabbled.

Eventually, it was Less who won the battle, her hair blowing in the cool wind that passed you by as you drove. You’d gotten the address from the younger of the two as soon as you all got settled in the car.

When you finally pull up in front of the seeming training center, it’s to the sight of multiple girls standing with mixed expressions. Some were stern, others were shocked and some were confused.

“Alessia Russo, Victoria Pelova, where have you been?” The short woman at the front asks sternly, though shock does seem to flutter over her face for a second as she clocks your ride.

“Well my car broke down so I walked to the workshop not too far away-“ Alessia starts sheepishly, her fingers scratching at her forearm.

“Where she met Casanova, who decided to help by getting Lessi’s car to the shop and then driving us here in her sweet ride.” Vic finishes off Alessia’s sentence, patting your shoulder as she climbs out of the car. Alessia once again blushes at the name Vic gave you, just as you roll your eyes at it.

“You have a really beautiful car, miss.” One of the more sheepishly shy looking girls tells you, she had an accent you just couldn’t place.

“Thank you dear, tell me, where is it you come from? I can’t place your accent.” You ask her softly, not wanting to scare the young girl.

“Uhm, Denmark miss.” She looks down at her feet, shuffling them around as she blushes more than usual.

“Oh, I’ve never been, do you have any recommendations for me when I visit?” That seems to set the young girl off as she starts to babble on about different places to visit and where you could find the best food.

Alessia looks on as you engage with her teammate, with you leaning back on the side of your car and Katherine standing in front of you.

A sudden loud noise comes from your phone, and you recognise it as the jingle you’d put for Mitch.

“Hey uncle Mitch, whatchu calling me for?” You answer the call quickly, waving a little at the girls you’d met before.

“Where are you? The shop’s empty and I don’t know if I need to remind you, but your employees arrive in 10 minutes.” He was pretty clearly stressed about your current predicament.

“Oh shit, listen Mitch I needed to help a client and I took the Mustang so I’ll be back in like, 5 minutes.” You knew that he knew exactly why you’d taken the mustang, it was simply a lady magnet.

“A ‘client’ of course, that's what your dad always said when he wanted some alone time if you know what I mean.” Even if you couldn’t see your uncle’s face you knew that he was smiling and winking slyly. Your face scrunches up uncomfortably at the insinuation, not really wanting to know of your father’s ‘endeavours’ before you.

“Ew gross Mitchy, it’s not like that.” The whisper-shout you let out into the mic has the women around you looking at you weirdly.

“Alright, alright, I’ll open for the guys but you make sure that you don’t get in too late, you still have that car from a couple days ago to finish.” Rolling your eyes at the older man, you climb back into the car and put the keys into the ignition, turning the car on and saying a quick goodbye to the girls you’d given a ride to, telling the gorgeous blonde that her car would be done in the next few days.

You were fully on the road when the blonde realized that you hadn’t given her your number, which meant that she didn’t know when her car would be done.

You on the other hand knew exactly what you were to do when the car was done, it really wasn’t hard to make the plan.

—————

“Uncle Mitch? I’m going away for like an hour to help a client, so let the guys go on break for an hour and a half. They sure do need it.” You call out for your uncle who found himself at the shop more often than not.

“Okay kid, just make sure not to fool around too much okay? I know how you are-“ He starts off with a large smile on his face before you interrupt him with your own sentence.

“Yeah just like my father, I know, it’s kind of who I was raised by, you know.” You smile at the old man whose hair was graying and face wrinkled. He was like another father figure.

“Yeah, yeah, off you go to see Juliet.” He responds, shooing you out of the main room and towards the private garage where your Mustang was located.

“What is it with people naming us after old romance stories?!” You say exasperated, but the blush covering your face tells a different tale.

Revving up your car, you quickly pull out of the garage and pull out onto the road. The wind blows through your hair and the freeing feeling makes you smile, the hot summer breeze never failing you.

As you pull up to the training grounds there’s a large group of people exiting the building, training bags over their shoulders as they talk eagerly with each other. They do notice the car that didn’t fit in, black leather seats and black shiny exterior.

When their resident clumsy friend spots the car she trips over her feet, luckily enough for her, Vic is right beside her and she manages to catch the falling forward. It’s no easy feat by any means, but the smaller midfielder manages to pull her back to her feet.

When you pull up next to them, she comes up to greet you.

“Hi Casanova” She starts off, smile splitting her face open from ear to ear. Your face mirrors hers, the stupid nickname seemingly stuck around.

“Hi Alessia, I was popping by to pick you up as the work on your car is done.” The forward eagerly puts her bag in your backseat before she’s plopping down in your passenger seat. She smiles even wider as she realizes the soft rock flowing out from your radio. All of a sudden her face turns into a mess of confusion and a bit of fear.

“Wait, how did you know when my training ended?” She was staring deep into your soul, eyes glistening in the sun.

“Well I had a little help.” Turning around to face her Dutch friend, you can see the way she winks at the blonde sitting beside you, who merely raises an eyebrow at her. There were more questions to be answered but she decided that it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Are you ready to go back to the garage?” You ask her softly, her face just so enticing that you could do no more than whisper in her presence. She nods her head though and as you’re pulling out of the parking lot you both hear a:

“Don’t forget protection!”

The blush that comes over her face makes her look like an overly ripe tomato, though you don’t have much to say, looking like a tomato yourself.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, Alessia looking out at the streets of London like she'd never seen anything like them before and you admiring her at every red light. It’s not until you pull up at the shop that she looks at you properly, her eyes glimmering.

“So if you just follow me out here, I’ll lead you to your good as new car.” She exits your car to follow you out and towards her own, the Mercedes that you’d put extra time and effort into. Nothing but the best for the gorgeous girl.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to save the day, I really do owe you one.” Her seemingly never ending smile shines even brighter at the sight of her car, and as she turns to you it seems to get impossibly brighter.

“Well it’s my job you know, I kind of own the place.” It’s a hastily thrown out comment that seemingly piques her interest, Alessia’s hand coming up to rest on your slightly sooty arm.

“How do you own this place? I don’t mean it in a condescending way or anything but it’s just that you’re so young and pretty and you don’t seem like the type to buy a workshop.” She rambles in her nervousity, eyes shifting around the shop like they’d done only days before.

“I inherited it from my dad, the same with my car. He uhm, he died and my mom is like fully out of the picture so I got most of his stuff, my uncle Mitch also got some stuff but I was the main person.” She was so easy to talk to, you’d only met her days before and it felt like you’d known each other for years. Your dads death wasn’t something that you talked about often or with most people, so your heart had really taken a wild leap for the young striker.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, I know that he’s watching you with pride wherever he is.” Her hand rubs up and down your arm comfortingly, smiling sorrowfully at you as you recount your grief at the most important person in your life’s death.

“It’s not your fault, he lived his life to the fullest so I know that he was content when he died…” Alessia notices the want to change the topic of your conversation and so she shifts it to something more trivial.

“Uhm, how much do you want me to pay for this?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly at the whiplashing change of topic.

“You can pay with a hug and a kiss?” You joke lightly but it seems like the forward takes it seriously, as her hands come up to slither back around your neck, fingers tangling in your baby hairs.

Big hands settle on the blonde’s waist as she moves her face closer to yours, leaning up to rest her lips against yours in a soft embrace.

The kiss is nothing short of magical and as her tongue pokes against your lips you open your lips, basically french kissing the girl in the middle of your workshop. The kiss only breaks apart as whistles from your employees ring out throughout the shop, the guys having come back from their break.

When they finally quiet down it’s by the threat of you withholding their next paycheck and they all look away as you peck the girl’s lips a few more times before letting her leave in her fixed up Mercedes.

“Not a word of this to Mitch.” You look at them all sternly, but the knowledge that all of them had basically watched you grow up made you realize that they definitely weren’t scared of your empty threats. They sealed the deal by chuckling at you before turning back to their individual projects.

————-

In the weeks following the blonde leaving your motor shop she’d come in more than once for imaginary problems with her car, which you knew was just an excuse to see you. No one had that many problems with their car.

When she comes in fully unexpected one Thursday it’s with a fleeting problem with her motor from before.

“Hi Y/n, my car has been acting up a little again, mind checking it out for me?” She pops her head into the shop after hours, you’d just been finishing up some paperwork that needed to be done.

“Alessia, you do know that you can just ask me out on a date instead of making up problems with your car?” You prayed that you’d read the situation right, otherwise it’d be quite the awkward conversation.

“Oh thank you, it’s really hard to just come up with problems out of the blue” Her body leans on her hands that are now pressed against your desk, her face close to yours.

“So, are you going to ask me?” You ask her the question you’d been thinking about for a while, her face and the tops of her ears turning red.

“Y/n/n do you want to go on a date with me?” She asks nervously, like you’d ever reject a girl like her, a beautiful and kind soul that did nothing if not light your day up with her made up problems.

“Of course I would Less.” You respond to the girl, only for her to lean forward and capture your lips with her own. People always talk about the first kiss, but the second kiss was always so much better, and all the kisses after that were pretty great too.

Who would’ve thought, a footballer and a mechanic getting together, the very own Casanova and Juliet of the world.

Maybe some weird romance book would be written about it in a few years, but for now you were content with watching the stars with your gorgeous girlfriend in your less gorgeous (but still very beautiful) car, sharing deep kisses into the night.

#woso #alessia russo #unc soccer #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #lionesses #arsenal wfc #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso fanfics

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deadsetobsessions · 29 days

Note

I would love to read more of your desecrated Grave AU if that isn't to much trouble?

Tbh, it was supposed to be a one time thing but I can give it another go :))

——

Zatanna's dealt with everything from demons to gods, eldritch horrors to cute little puppies. It says a lot, in her opinion, that the GIW managed to invoke such a response of recoiling horror in her.

The magician took in the blood and ectoplasm splattered walls, the writhing reanimated organism that came from exposure to said ectoplasm, and most damningly, the stacks of cracked and broken headstones piled in the corner of the room.

"Peek ruoy part tuhs!" she snarled, hands thrown out at the whimpering and beaten GIW agents. Her magic activated and sealed their voice boxes shut.

In the sudden silence, Zatanna walked to the stacked gravestones. She placed a hand upon the top most one and uttered a heart-broken apology, wondering how many ghosts perished.

"I'll bring you back to Phantom," she promised them. "Eb derots."

The gravestones vanished into her storage space, ready to be taken out when she willed them to be.

"Zatanna, everything finished?" Black Canary walked in, casting a disdainful glance at the agents. "You okay?"

"I can feel... there was much suffering here. They were supposed to be- dying was supposed to grant them peace. Not. Not this."

"We'll make sure it never happens again. The GIW is getting disbanded as we speak."

Their comms buzzed.

"Zatanna, the U.N. is requesting the presence of the ghost king in order to make amends." Batman said.

"Tell them he's going to be busy grieving the massacre of his people, committed by a branch of their government. We'll be damn lucky if he doesn't start a war over this, Batman. He'd be well within his rights to. It's bad."

"I'll hold them off."

"We're wrapping up on our end."

"Copy."

Zatanna turned to the scientists and agents and intoned "Eb devom edistuo!"

"C'mon Zee, let's go." Black Canary made sure she was out of the way before screaming, unleashing a wave of sound that shattered and crumbled the glass and walls of the facility.

"Fuck the government." Zatanna mumbled. How was she supposed to tell Phantom about the gravestones?

----

Phantom floated, the lost look on the young boy's face pulling at their hearts as his hands hovered above the broken gravestones, not daring to touch them.

"So many..." he whispered. Zatanna could do nothing but offer a nod, jaw clenched and eyes burning with fury and grief.

Phantom looked up at her. "Thank you, Zatanna, for bringing them back to us."

"It was the least we could do." Zatanna replied, and something about her voice must have resonated with Phantom because his apathetic façade broke and suddenly, Zatanna had an armful of a grieving, wailing ghost child. Her magic shielded her, but the glass began breaking at his ghostly wail. Still, Zatanna could tell he was holding back in attempt to not kill them all via the vacuum of space.

"Dleihs eht rewothctaw!" She quickly chanted. "Go ahead, you won't hurt us. I've shielded the place."

The glass stopped cracking and Phantom, no longer worried about killing her, screamed against her shoulder.

"Why?! WHAT CRIMES DID WE COMMIT BY DYING?! IT WASN'T ENOUGH TO SUFFER WHEN WE DIED?! WHY?!"

----

#danny phantom #dcxdp #zatanna #black canary #batman #the justice league #the giw #implications that the giw murdered a bunch of ghosts

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selineram3421 · 5 months

Text

*escapes from homework* I finally have some time!

Alastor X Reader Small Oneshot

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ alcohol, cuddles, kisses(implied make out) ⚠

Drunk In Love🥂

You didn't drink alcohol all that often, only a bit during special occasions, but most of the time you were sober.

Alastor was the one who drank more, but it wasn't bothering in the slightest. He would only drink what he could handle, and when he was comfortable enough he'd drink till he was tipsy.

It didn't happen often but you were always nearby when it did.

Today was a normal one, nothing really happened in the hotel. It was its usual lack of guest, so the Princess called an early day.

Now you and the Radio Demon were back home, relaxing in the living room, Alastor sitting nearby the cellarette bar with a drink in his hand. You were on the couch, reading the encyclopedia of herbs that you managed to find deep in the library.

Too transfixed with the book, you didn't notice that the man in red had finished most of the bottle.

"Darling?", he called out, the glass in his hand making a sound as he set it down on top of the cellarette.

"Hm?", you hummed, not looking up from the book.

"Darliiiing~"

Now that's odd. You thought taking in the tone of his voice and looked up from your book, finding the deer demon's smile widen once you were looking at him.

"Come here my darling~", he holds out a hand for you, head tilted to the side a bit with a slight blush on his face. "I want to hold you."

He's..drunk? You close your book before slowly setting it down. No, almost there but not quite.

Standing up, you made your way over to him. Taking his outstretched hand, letting him guide you to sit down on his lap. He wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles his face into your neck. To get comfortable, you wrap an arm around his neck and rest the other on his chest.

"J’aime sentir ton corps contre le mien."

( I love feeling your body against mine. )

A blush forms on your face and you avert your eyes. "How much did you drink?", you ask, looking over at the bottle.

"Not too much.", he sighs out.

You shiver when feeling his breath on your neck. Holding your breath when feeling him smirk against your skin.

"Tu es si mignonne." (You're so adorable.)

"I'm not.", you mumble, earning a chuckle from him.

"You are.", he replies before kissing your neck.

Feeling your heart skip a beat as he kisses up your neck, you move the hand on his shoulder to the back of his head, encouraging him to continue.

"Mon amour." (My love.)

Kiss, on the pulse of your neck.

"Ma vie." (My life.)

Kiss, on the underside of your jaw.

"Mon cœur." (My heart.)

Kiss, behind your ear.

The smell from the alcohol was starting to get to you, but you really wanted a kiss.

"Alastor.", you pulled back, looking at his flushed face as he slowly blinked at you. "Please kiss me already."

"Of course.", he says and leans in.

Reciprocating the kiss, all is forgotten about the alcohol. It felt like you two were the only demons in Hell.

Maybe...you could get a little drunk.

In love, that is.

*gets dragged back into the depths of assignments* LET ME KNOW IF MY TRANSLATIONS ARE WRONG!!!

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @willowaudreykeyes @stolas-thebirb @kiraisastay @scary-noodlesblog @ducky-died-inside @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #x reader #alastor the radio demon #gn reader #fanfic #the radio demon #alastor x reader #oneshot #small oneshot #alastor oneshot #alcohol mention #fun fact #this was inspired by a fanfic on ao3

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navybrat817 · 7 months

Note

Hi Navyyyyyy how you’re doing good, sunshine.

I just wanted to share a little TikTok I saw. It was like “losing your voice” and like a girl coughing and then the other slide was “losing your voice” but with Bucky staring down at you cause you know 👀👀👀👀👀🤤

And to be completely utterly honestly I’ll chose Bucky every single time. 😌😌😌

Bahaha. So would I! ❤️

Lose Your Voice

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You want Bucky in your mouth. Simple as that.

Word Count: Over 1.4k

Warnings: Oral sex, (m. receiving), dirty talk, tension, slight humor, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning)

A/N: Happy Sinday! The ask and photo below inspired me. Set in the same universe as The Rejects and A Couple of Cuties. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“What did you say?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s question. You knew damn well he heard what you said. Even if he tried to ignore you, which he wouldn’t, his hearing would’ve easily picked up on your statement. He just wanted you to say it again.

Cocky son of a bitch.

“I said I want your cock in my mouth, Bucky,” you said, mouthing at his underwear as you gazed up at him. He throbbed against your lips through the cotton, which made you smile as you reached for the elastic. “Don’t you want that? Your cock so deep in my throat that I choke?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned, lifting his hips so you could pull his underwear down more easily. Watching his cock bob free was a treat you’d never grow tired of. “Thought you would’ve told me to fuck your pussy.”

The two of you should’ve been up for the day, but you both ventured back to bed after getting up and brushing your teeth. You didn’t outright state that you wanted to cuddle, but you implied it as you moved close and burrowed yourself in his arms. He hadn’t said a word either, but you felt him smile when he kissed your forehead. The affection made you snuggle closer.

Which eventually led to the two of you grinding against each other and stripping down to almost nothing again.

Anyone who had Bucky Barnes in their bed wouldn’t want to wear clothes either.

You rose up on your knees, brushing your nipples against his torso as you slid up his body to fuse your mouths together. The vibration of his moan against your lips hit you in your chest and between your thighs, your cunt slick and ready for him. But you’d wait until he finished in your mouth first. This morning was about him.

“Fuck my pussy after you fuck my throat,” you stated, running your palms down his chest as you moved back down to where his hard cock waited for you and your eager mouth. You rubbed your cheek along the length of him before you swirled your tongue along the tip, smirking when he grunted. “Think I can swallow all of you down?”

“I know you can,” he moaned, which made you all the more eager to please him. “But you may lose your voice.”

You pressed a hand to his abs with a smirk. You had no doubt he could fuck your voice away if he really tried. It was a challenge you welcomed. “We’ll see about that, big boy,” you said, opening your mouth so he could slide in.

“Fuck, you look pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he praised, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you took him in with impressive ease. You wondered how he was able to fit in your mouth, but you chalked it up to being made to get fucked by super soldiers. A skill that very few had. “You’re too good to me.”

The world had punished him enough and you wanted to remind him that he deserved to feel good.

You moaned along his thick length, taking him in as deep as you could. Breathing through your nose, you felt the head touch the back of your throat as you whimpered. Your soft, wet mouth stretched around him and the tears springing to your eyes had to be a sight. You still managed to give him a seductive stare, like having his dick in your mouth was all you needed to feel good.

Can I come just from sucking Bucky’s cock?

He gripped the back of your head and forced you to stay down before he let you up, helping control the pace. “Fucking perfect. Can smell how wet you are, fuck,” he groaned.

You let your hand fall between your legs, gathering some of the wetness, before you cupped his balls and gently squeezed. He moaned as you let him feel exactly what he did to you, that your cunt nearly gushed from the heavy weight of him on your tongue. You wanted him to thrust deep in your throat and coat your insides until you couldn’t speak without the lingering taste of him.

I just want to be good for you.

“That’s it, doll. Suck my cock. Just. Like. That.” He grunted, grabbing both sides of your head as you whined. Tears spilled over by that point from how deep in your throat he was, but you blinked them away to look at him. He didn’t blink as he moved your head up and down, flames lit within his blue eyes as you nearly spluttered. “‘M close.”

It was a powerful feeling to have someone like Bucky get turned on by you. It drove you to suck him down more, stroking and licking, pushing him to lose control. He moaned as his head fell back, your body hot all over as pleasure began to take him over. It was a paradise you somehow created for him, but he needed to reach true euphoria.

You had to make him come.

One more thrust, your nose brushing the curls at the base of him, and he was gone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, tipping over the edge and keeping you on his cock as he came down your throat.

You inhaled as he released you, a string of saliva and his release dripping down your chin. Swallowing wasn’t something you enjoyed with past partners, but it was different with Bucky. Everything was. The lust between the two of you was insane, but it was deeper than that because you were his girl. He found something in you that no one else ever had. Which was probably one of the reasons you wanted to please him, to show him through your actions what he meant to you.

A range of emotions flickered across his face as his chest heaved, pulling your body up so you could rest against him. “You’re too good to me,” he said again, your eyes closing as he wrapped his arms around you.

He deserved it and more.

You sighed as he placed gentle kisses across your face, like he hadn’t just shoved his cock down your throat like you asked him to. It wouldn’t take him long to get hard again and you’d really be in for a treat since your pussy was begging for him to fuck that, too. You could wait another minute or so.

Bucky tipped your chin to bring water to your lips. You didn't question where he got it. “Not too rough?”

You smiled at his concern and shook your head, your breathing and heart steady once again. The man had the strength to hurt you, even break you. But all he did was take care of you. He was a pain in your ass at times, but you liked that he kept you on your toes. It was a reason you loved him.

Love?

Your phone rang before you could dwell on that thought, both of you glancing at the clock. “Weren’t you supposed to meet Nat for breakfast?” Bucky asked.

Shit.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” He pressed.

His mouth curved in a wicked smile as you sat up to get it. You cursed under your breath when you saw Nat’s name on the screen. You did tell her you’d meet her for breakfast and she was probably wondering where the hell you were.

What the hell do I say? “Sorry I’m late. Was sucking my boyfriend’s dick. You understand, right?”

“Hey,” you answered, your voice raspier than normal.

“Hey. I’m in the lobby. You okay?” Natasha asked in a gentle tone. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” you said, coughing a little to try and clear your throat. It didn’t help. “It’s my throat.”

“Do you have a cold?”

Bucky still had a shit-eating grin on his face as you glared at him. You might as well tell the truth. It was better than faking a cold for a few days.

“I sucked Bucky’s dick,” you said, making your boyfriend’s eyebrows shoot up, like he was surprised you admitted it. “Sorry.”

There was a slight pause on the other end before Natasha hummed in understanding. “That’ll do it. Rain check?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” you said, coughing again as you hung up. “Congrats. I can barely talk.”

He chuckled as he flipped you onto your back. “Let’s see if you can still moan my name as I fuck you senseless.”

Challenge accepted.

I had to do it! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #shoot your shot au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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wenigstenshabeichesversucht · 2 months

Text

Golden Hour

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!Reader

Summary: Everything Luke did was out of love for you

Warnings: Ominous Foreshadowing, english is not my native language

Word Count: 979

The sun was slowly going down and the camp was buzzing with life. Around Luke, campers were rushing around, everyone was trying to finish their afternoon activities before it was time for dinner. But he only had eyes for you. You, who were sitting with a few other campers, a guitar in your lap and glowing like the sun. With your sun-kissed skin and your smile brighter than the star you all revolved around, nobody could doubt that you were Apollo's daughter. Of course, he couldn’t help to gravitate to you like the earth did to the sun. You were his sun.

For a short moment, doubt overwhelmed him. Finally, you seemed happy. But in a world like this, your happiness wouldn’t last unless he took care of it personally. Therefore, he had to do it. He had to do it for you. Because he remembered. He remembered the many months you were struggling in the Hermes Cabin, still unclaimed, asking yourself, far too often, why you weren’t worth it. Back then, seeing your self-doubt had destroyed a part of Luke. He always had known that you were worth more than the gods could ever give you. And, it seems, like he had to take matters in his own hands.

He could only hope that someday you would understand his motivations. However, even if you didn't, at least you would have a better life. And that was enough for him. You had already given him more than he ever hoped for since arriving at camp. He would always remember it, like he remembered your arrival.

You were lost, figuratively speaking. Three days ago, some guy, half boy, half goat had told you, your father was a god, and now you were hunted down by monsters. Of course, first, you didn’t believe him. But the evidence was speaking for itself, and after you barely escaped a monster attack with your life, you couldn't deny it anymore.

When you finally reached Camp Half-blood, a sanctuary for kids like you, you were so relived, that you didn’t die, that you felt like crying. So, this was what you did. You started to cry ugly, fat tears were streaming down your face while you gasped for air.

This was how Luke found you. And even with fourteen years, he found your beauty rivalling Aphrodite’s. Not that he would ever say that out loud, gods were merciless when it came to things like that.

He took you under his wings. In a world where you felt like an intruder, he gave you a home. It quickly became clear that you were not a child of Hermes. Living in the far too full cabin, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. They told you, all you had to do was find the thing you were good at, and your father would claim you. But days, then weeks, then month went by, and you stayed at the Hermes cabin. The only thing that kept you sane was your friendship with Luke.

But luck wasn’t on your side, and Luke had to go on a mission. Following the god’s wishes, he left you behind. Many nights, you cried yourself to sleep, feeling worthless. Until after 7 months, your father finally took pity on you.

Luke barely managed to get back from his mission. The cut he received had become inflamed. He didn’t remember how he got back to camp, but when he opened his eyes, he thought he had died and ended in the Elysium.

Your face was hovering over him, and you were glowing. Gently, your fingers were working their way over his wound and Luke needed a moment to realize, that you were healing him.

“Welcome back, hero”, you whispered when you saw that he was finally awake. “I missed you.”

Probably not more than he missed you. But he didn’t say it. Instead, he chose another topic.

“Looks like he finally claimed you”, his words made a happy smile form on your lips. However, Luke wasn’t happy. He could only think about, how he would miss your presence in the Hermes Cabin and at the dinner table.

Back in the present, you finished the lesson. Giving the guitar to one of your siblings, you made your way to Luke. You were so much more than his best friend, but he had never talked about his feelings for fear of complicating things. However, everything would soon change, and he would have to leave.

“Walk with me?”, he asked and with hesitation you agreed.

Without thinking, his feet led him to the lake, where the sun kissed the water on the horizon.

“Something is bothering you”, you broke the silence, after a moment of just watching the sunset.

Taking a deep breath, Luke tried to calm his nerves. All these years he hadn’t mustered up the courage, but from today on this would all be in the past.

“Some things will change in the near future, but I want you to know, that my feelings about you will never change.”

“Your feelings about me?”, you echoed surprised, and instead of an answer, Luke did the one thing, which he had been waiting for since he was 14 years old. He kissed you. You did what he always dreamed of, you kissed him back.

“Everything I do, I will do for you. I would fight for you, I would lie for you, and I would die for you”, Luke whispered against your lips, after you interrupted the kiss to gasp for air.

“I love you too”, that was all he wanted to hear. Looking down at you, the last sunbeams of the day were illuminating your face, he couldn’t help but think, that you were his golden hour. But now the night was starting, and he could only hope, that tomorrow the sun would rise again.

#luke castellan #pjo tv show #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fluff #pjo #pjo series

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vln-vibes · 2 months

Text

Heroes Hunted

(I need to finish my other fics before thinking of others Q^Q)

Basically we've seen quite a few Danny getting hunted down by the GIW and ending up in Gotham resulting in him warning certain Bats (mainly just Jason) that hes in danger as well--- but what if the GIW decided to target 'smaller fish' in order to train themselves against Phantom; their main target.

Unfortunately Team Phantom is too busy trying to keep the calm around Amity Park and don't realize it until they're too late.

The JL never see them coming.

The Bats are frantically looking for what should be their literal assassin trained Robin, Red Hood and Black Bat.

Supers are flying around the area looking for any trace of Supergirl and Superboy (I). Not even Tim's trackers on Conner show anything (just like the ones he had on his fellow Bats).

Arrows had sent Green Arrow and Arsenal to help with the search of the Bats, Roy leaving Lian behind with Dinah, only to drop off the face of the Earth.

The Flash, Blue Beetle and Hawkwoman are all reported as MIA.

An Emergency Meeting is announced and trying to get into contact with all the other fellow heroes. Some were known to be off planet but there were a few who'd failed to respond at all...

Batman is the first to realize a common factor to all those who've disappeared as most had concluded something or someone was targeting heroes.

They'd all died.

Diana was the one to bring forward worst news; the hunt wasn't done.

Impulse, Red Robin, Cyborg, Hawkman, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman herself were possible targets as well.

Cyborg was able to recover and corrupted and dropped emergency call from Barry "Those weirdos in white from earlier are attacking downtown, could use some backup asap. Something about Anti-Ecto Acts or whate-- Hey! Ugh"

A shiver went down their spines as they collectively told stories about spotting men in white suits walk around their cities. Some had brushed them off whilst others had kept tabs but the guys seemed to have lost interest and left.

It was a terrible oversight.

"Looks like some assholes are digging their noses into my turf, gonna stake them out tonight" Jason had told Bruce the last night they'd seen each other, "My guys they were wearing white suits, terrible choice for Crime Alley or Gotham"

Red Hood had said he didn't need backup as he would just gather intel, still that was also the night Black Bat and Robin were paired for patrol and she'd indicated she'd check in on him before the end of the night. The three never got to call in for the night.

Oracle had informed him that Red Hood's helmet had detonated, fortunately without him in it, its location the last place his children had pinged in the scanners.

The only audio they managed to recover from the device was "---Control Act, Article 1, Subse---Under Arrest---Questioning... And experimenting lots---"

Oracle had finally found the 'Anti-Ecto Acts', formally known as the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act hidden along laws against the privatization of new green energy sources; Anything that was made off of or produced this so called 'ectoplasm' was to be handed over to the federal government's Ghost Investigation Ward for imprisonment, experimentation and finally termination.

"What the hell even is ectoplasm?"

"Its the source of all ghosts" Zatanna spoke up, repulsion clear as she read and reread the acts words, "Their body and souls are made up of the energy much like atoms make up all things in the physical world. The energy of the dead"

"According to these documents" Red Robin pulled up a research paper around two decades old from some students of the University of Wisconsin, "Ectoentities or ghosts are unfeeling, nonsentient echoes of their formerly living selves. They'd even theorized a means to access their home dimension they call the Ghost Zone"

"Ghost are made of bloody emotions" Constantine rolled his eyes "What kind of idiot would think otherwise? And don't get me started on a 'home dimension'--unless?"

"John, you don't think?"

"I sure as bloody hell hope not"

"The Infinite Realms!?"

Which only proved the situation more dire; a potential for a dimension that glued the multiverse and their afterlives, whose beings all had potential of rivaling the strength of a Super when provoked, their noted territorial nature making that a given if a portal happened upon them.

They were on a ticking time bomb to rescue their fellow heroes but they didn't even know where to start. Luckily they weren't the Justice League for nothing---

Potential locations scouted, teams made and buddy systems enacted for those potentially targeted.

Batman and his team headed to Amity Park to check on the three researchers of those papers-- Madeline Walker, Jack Fenton and Vladimir Masters. Background search revealed that Madeline and Jack had gotten married and had two children Jasmine and Daniel.

It wasn't until they crossed the town border in the dead of the night that their systems pinged the Fenton children were reported as runaways-- and not just them. The local high school had shut down as children were reported missing or also runaways from their parents. Even the faculty and some parents had begun to disappear.

Those that remained were kept under strict curfew by marshal law-- the GIW had the town under their control.

Just what exactly had they stumbled upon? Could their comrades be hidden somewhere in this small midwestern town?

Their theories were proven right the following night when tapping into their communication line about the 'aggressive subject G-02' and how 'it' had managed to break some arms when it had been relocated to the Fenton's personal lab. The 'unfortunate' Agent H who'd tried to yank it by its black and white contaminated hair had gotten his nose broken for it. It was scheduled for biopsy tonight.

Batman couldn't help but taste the bile make his way up fearing/knowing who G-02 was.

His Team was right behind him in the change of plans as they made their way across town as covertly as they could; it seemed as though after finding out about G-02 (it couldn't be him, he couldn't put a name to him lest he let his fear override everything) Batman pinged on more and more of their ghost detectors.

Disabling was taking too long, loathe he admit, as they devolved to destroying as discreetly as they could.

Finally they could see the garish neon of the FentonWorks logo, the steps and door to the house were covered in ectoplasm and another familiar substance-- handmarks, clawmarks, clear signs of resistance could be made out.

And then Fentonworks went up in a flame and red and green.

Batman couldn't keep in his desperate cry. Not again! Please not again...

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc crossover #crossover fic #heroes hunted down for a change #or is it just heroes?#things just keep happening #not good things #things get better #eventually #dp x dc fic #disregard canon do phanfiction

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jazjelspen · 1 month

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devil's spawn.

angel alastor w/ radio demon daughter reader

(notes: based off of the concept of my other story 'my angel baby' except alastor and his adopted daughter switch places and personalities. In Alastor's pov (?)in this chapter.)

(caution: RUSHED!! definitely rushed qwq so I greatly apologize. Not proofread in the slightest. Might have cringe parts am so sorriy qwq)

(Alastor is still in a way the angel version of 'the radio demon' except he's called 'the radio angel' by his fans, but he doesn't refer to himself as such since angel alastor is actually humble)

(I'm willing to make another part but considering Hs becoming more stressful and it blowing my brain up it'll definitely take time, but always willing to make more if wanted/needed)

It was another bright and fresh day in heaven, Alastor clinging the laundry up on the line while his mother, whom he managed to find in his decades inside the pearly gates, sat on a rocking chair reading a book as she usually would.

The bright heavenly lights making his halo shine, complimenting his wings, other neighborly 'winners' he would be acquainted with would walk by and greet him with a wave or a tip of their hats to him while he was outside fixing their clothes.

In this particular universe, Alastor is the complete opposite of his original counterpart. Where the original Alastor would hurt and destroy, this version of him would care and heal. He was selfless, kind, compassionate and sympathetic to which again is also a complete twist around compared his original self.

Alastor died out of an accidental kill, mistaken for a deer and shot through the head while he was out in the forest collecting his adoptive daughter's favorite flowers, at her favorite flower meadow on the day of her eighteenth birthday.

Unfortunately due to missing his baby girl's birthday and being taken away from her too soon for his liking he has been living in pure regret, panic, and pure sorrow form having to leave her too early and it pained him everyday.

He raised you all by himself while juggling his passion for radio hosting, finding comfort in your innocence and smiles when he first found you and as you grew up you gave him a reason to live and work.

That's the only thing that him and the original sadistic version Alastor have in common; the fatherly love for their daughters who are also their entire lives. Their love traverses across universes.

Eventually the more you grew up the more.. peculiar and unique you became.. your innocence would melt away with a sadistic fire in your eyes that he would notice at times but would try his best to lead you in the ways of love and compassion which you had for him but lacked for those around you..

Alastor was finishing up his morning chores for his mother's home before he would eventually go back inside and get a few necessities before leaving his home. His pearly coat, his shining microphone staff, fix his appearance in the mirror just a tad, and finally hugging his mother goodbye from the porch to head up and down the street towards the main part of the city.

Yes, he was still a radio host as well too.

Instead of broadcasting screams of pain and terror from sinners he instead would give voices to those who wished to express their passions, interview everyday folk and influential people on opinions and advice to those listening to his radio show and he even has good connections and acquaintances to the high Seraphims of heaven in order to get the latest news in the ruling of heaven.

He's just as famous as he was in life, maybe more considering how many people there are in heaven alone.

His polished shoes creating sounds on the pavement as he hummed a special tune that he adores, a tune he used to sing to you. Yet again still greeting passing by acquaintances and fans of his show with genuine glee and care.

Alastor waved off to an old friend while walking by, shining his taken cared for smile. "Good to see you again Roger, don't forget to tune in soon in a few hours! It'll be a real gas so don't miss i-- oh my!"

Alastor looked down as he seemed to bump into someone small, looking down at his feet he saw a young little girl. Another fellow 'winner' she seemed to have bumped into him with chocolate smeared around her mouth with a giddy yet apologetic smile on her face. And unfortunately smeared some chocolate on his pants.

"Hiya mister!" she waved, showing her dirtied little hand as well "Sorries! I didn't watch where I was going..!"

Alastor noticed the stain and his jaw hung slightly from surprise but then immediately laughed it off, petting the young girl on the head in understanding.

"Oh little one, don't worry about it at all! Here, so you can clean yourself up." He then took a white embroidered handkerchief for his chest pocket to give to the little girl who then wiped her face and her hands, seeing her struggle a bit Alastor graciously held her hands gently to wipe them off for her and her nose as well.

"Mary!" A voice exclaimed that approached, a woman than came into view, a winner as well. "Oh! Well if it isn't our most kind radio host! I deeply apologize about my daughter sir.." The mother would smile sheepishly and apologetically. "Thank you so much for helping my little girl, I apologize for her clumsiness! Could I perhaps offer you help of any kind?..”

Alastor shook his head as he would then neatly fold the handkerchief and saved it in his coat this time so that he could remember to wash it when he got back home. "Oh no no! No need ma'am, it's nothing a little magic can't cover up for the time being!" He smiled at the woman who now had her hands placed on her daughter's shoulders with a sigh slipping through her lips. He looked down at the girl as he gave her a pat on the head "On the other hand, are you okay dear? I do hope you didn't hit yourself too hard!.."

The little girl shook her head as well in reply, "Nu-uh mister! Thank you for helping me! I promise not to bump into anymore misters or any misseses!" Oh her messing up of words ringed a bell in his head

"How darling! Take care of yourself and your mother now, " He looked up at the woman to then lower his head slightly in respect before resuming his steps again "Apologies for the rush, just trying to see if I can get some special guests on my radio show tonight!"

The woman waved at him 'goodbye' with her young girl following suit "Oh I sure hope they agree! Good day to you Alastor!"

"Good day to you as well madame!" he waved back as he finally took enough steps away from them to now get a clearer view of the inside of the city.

He couldn't help but sigh in despair, he remembers when he used to have his own little girl.

Took care of her as if she was his own blood, as if they came form the same flesh and heritage.

And although you didn't, he never loved you any less.

His smile faltered slightly but picked it up quickly, rushing towards the next moving tram that he recognized to get to his destination: the middle of the city. Once he saw one and hopped on, he could feel his heart pump with blood he once had as red and now as gold as the tears of the elder angels.

If what he heard was right, he would try to get a segment with three special guests from hell.

Sure, he knew that they came from a place of bad and evil but that didn't deter him any less. From life to death he would give voices to everyone that needed to be heard and he would follow it no matter where someone came from.

The fresh breezes and the smell of bakeries, restaurants, the sounds of workers in mom and pop shops and independent growing businesses were like music. He could've sworn that even the laughter of children and the chattering of friends, couples, and families amongst each other turned into melodies in through his brain circuits.

Heaven was.. heaven.

But his only sin was not speaking out at heaven's hypocrisy or flaws at times. Many times he would but it turned into heaven setting restrictions on him.. silencing his own voice. He was never fond of that but apparently according to Sera and that blasphemous Adam, it was required. 'To avoid panic and prevent disturbances amongst the people of heaven' or so they'd say.

He was working on a way to go around that.. change their minds. But it was much harder than he anticipated.

Oh!-- The tram stopped with a loud hiss and ring.

Alastor snapped out of his thoughts would hop off the tram and finally start resuming his walk. He was now just a block away, the more he walked the less the voices and sounds of work distanced, entering a quieter part of the city. He was now in the smack middle of the entrance to heaven, where ice cream shops were laid in rows, cafes as well, people quietly chatting and drinking their beverages or eating their food.

Oh! And he could heard a familiar tune! It was that one.. welcome song that St. Peter would often sing..

Not a favorite song of his.. at all.. but he applauded them for effort!

Maybe a splash of swing or jazz would bring it to life.. but he assumed that was the old man in him talking.

For the time being he decided to watch some place nearby yet not too close since he knew that if he stayed where he was he would be caught up in the performance and he would have to sing with them..

Waiting at the side and hearing the singing come closer and close Alastor would make himself busy by polishing his microphone with his breathe and sleeve, fixing and dusting himself off as to not give any bad first impressions.

And thankfully he managed to remember his stain that the little girl left-- forgetting about it due to wanting to get to his destination on time and helping the poor thing. With a gentle swish of his staff pointed at the stained he then managed to cover it with his heaven-given magic.

Once the full group performance made his way towards his direction was when he stood up straight, chin high, shoulders fixed, looking good as always Alastor.

He heard Emily's voice among the performance, the youngest of the two Seraphims.

He's quite close with the two, at first only starting as something for business until one day he got closer to them and confessed his past, and his regrets.

Emily reminds him much of his daughter, the high angel having an enthusiasm and mentality of a late teenager or young woman, same age his daughter was when he last saw her.

He thought, wondered, pondered, dreamed-- what his little girl grew up into.

His eyes stared at his microphone, the shine of silver blinding him when he turned it for a spot of sunshine to burn his eyes slightly.

Did she grow up into an incredible woman? Did she ever find love? Settle down and have children? How has she matured? Does she resent him for leaving him so soon even if he never meant to? Does she look completely different? Did she ever change her name?

Were you even up here at all?

He hopes you were, looking and asking for you far and wide in heaven. Did you seclude yourself? Did you hide from him on purpose?

Or were you simply in hell..

No-- his little girl couldn't be in hell. Sure she had concerning hobbies, thoughts, ways of doing things but it didn't deserve her going to hell of all places.

You had to be up here, somewhere.. you had to.

A somber sigh escaped his lips as he stared at his reflection in the object between his palms and fingers. His heavy heart tugging and ripping itself apart.

'my little girl.. where are you?'

"Alastor!! Hey!"

A young voice shouted at him from afar, looking up he saw Emily wave and ushered him to head towards her way from afar.

He let go of his guilt for now, and shined his iconic smile as always.

"Why hello Emily, Sera," he lowered his head at the high angels in respect for them "How may I help you ladies today? I see we have new visitors!" His head moved to look at the other three ladies in front of him that came from below.

There was a young woman with eyes that shared the same enthusiasm as Emily's did, hair of sunshine and gold, fangs as sharp reminiscing those of a blood bat, small and thin frame and an outfit that successfully mimics casual sophistication.

Another young girl to her right was one that seemed more reminiscent of an angel, her long hair filled with silver and moon, a gaze as sharp as broken, stance serious and unapologetic, she seemed ready to protect the blonde girl beside her but also had eyes of worry and a sense of uncomfortability haunted her features and her almost slouched back.

The last one, really shook him up.

The next young woman to the left of the blonde girl was adorned in nothing but pure red with tones of a deep hot pink in her entire look. Her clothes were of an era he knew of very well, of course he'd recognize clothes from the 30s!.. except they had a few odd touches that more or so reminded him of the 40s or heck maybe even 50s.. a bit more ahead of his time. She had a large sharp smile that screamed of mischief and eyes that are waiting to do something-- anything sinister.

Despite all this, these characteristics weren’t the ones that shook him to his core.

She looked like someone he knew, that he missed.

"Everyone, this is Alastor. He's heaven's most famous and influential radio host! Giving voices to the voiceless when he was alive and even more up here, and of course due to his selfless acts when he was alive he was blessed to be let through the gates of heaven." spoke Sera, introducing the 'winner' as he chuckled sheepishly.

"Oh thank you Sera, but it's nothing really! Just had to do what was right."

Sera then lead his eyes back to the newcomers, having him face directly to the girl with hair of sunshine first. "Alastor, I present to you the Princess of Hell and heir to the throne, Charlie Morningstar. She's here to present a few ideas to the court the next day."

Alastor's eyes widened in surprise, "Princess! I didn't know royalty were to visit us today!" he bowed down towards the girl as to pay his respects, standing back straight once he finished. "A pleasure to meet you sweetheart quite the pleasure! Didn't expect our guests to be of royalty so apologies to any bad manners."

The princess shook her head with a large smile "Oh!-- don't worry you didn't give off any bad manners! It's nice to meet you too Mr...Alastor!.. it.. it's very admirable what you did before and what you do now! You seem to have earned your place here quite well!"

The man shook his head as well in reply "Oh like I said it's nothing! If anything I should thank my daughter, she was my reason and my motivation to be nothing but kind to others to present a good example! I continue to do so in her honor."

Charlie's eyes grew as a soft 'awwww' escaped her lips "You must love your daughter very much..!"

Alastor nodded, "Of course I do! As a father always should!"

Charlie opened her mouth again to speak, her eyes filled with a sense of bittersweetness until she was suddenly interrupted by the young woman dressed in red. She walked in between Alastor and Charlie with a sense of charm and enthusiasm, the spirit of a presenter or spokesperson shining in her body language and way of speaking.

"How delightful! The love of a parent transcends heaven and earth! Now that's poetry!" the girl's voice was glitched out and heavily amplified with a strong sound of static, as if her vocal cords came straight from a radio speaker. She held a staff much similar to his, except her's was shorter and more compact-able.

The girl with silver hair rolled her eyes in nothing but pure irritation, Charlie giggled nervously as she then pointed her way towards the one who spoke. "And this is ______! She's the founder and host of my hotel back in hell! She's helped me throughout everything and I dont think I would be able to get to this point if It weren't for her help as well!"

Ah,

He knew it.

______, anyone could have that name.

But you looked like his daughter, his pride and joy.

His face still shines with a smile but his eyes are baffled with the sudden hit of realization.

It couldn't be a coincidence-- you looked like her, your eyes had that spark he always used to see in his daughter before he left. The way of speaking, that stance-- more confident and mature but the way you spoke.. your vocals were a match to his daughter's just with a touch of years to it.

And you looked at him as if you knew as well, eyes narrowing with piqued interest. Sharp smile widening an-

wait..

what?..--

You seemed to have almost hopped right in front of him with your hand suddenly shaking his. "A real pleasure to meet you sir! Quite the pleasure!"

You mimicked his greeting yet somehow you spoke it so naturally, as if spoken a billion times before. He was stunned, if there weren't people around he would've slipped and broken down right here right now--

but he cannot, will not.

He will not worry others, he will not bother others with his emotions.

"Good to meet you Ms.."

"______. Simply call me ______." Your sinister grin only stretched, a sense of despair fell into the pit of his stomach,

His little girl in hell?

Did he.. fail at raising you?

Was dying too soon the reason why you let yourself fall?

Whatever the case, Alastor was nothing but stuck in a small limbo of his own guilt again

If he did this to you-- even indirectly,

he wouldn't ever forgive himself.

"Ms.. ______..."

'my little girl' he would've said, 'my daughter, how I've missed you. please forgive me for leaving you so soon... I'm so so sorry my darling..'

the words were stuck to his throat.

a small gust of air was the only thing that escaped from his cords.

Sera clapped her hands together once as a way to announce, "Well Princess Morningstar. I hope your stay here is nothing but comfortable, and I say that to your companions as well."

Sera looked at the 'winner' with confusion and a sense of concern but she knew she had to leave due to duties calling for her and Emily's presence.

Sera gently put her hand on his shoulder, "Alastor, would you perhaps show them where their hotel is and how to check in? It's going to be the one nearby."

'the one nearby' he thought, 'a block away.. '

"of course! anything to make our guests feel more welcomed!"

Sera nodded in 'thanks' before flying off with Emily on her side, herself also waving goodbye to all of you as well.

Alastor paused, before finally turning his head at the girls.

"Well, let's get you all to where you'll stay for the time being!.."

He will find out what happened to you, what went wrong, how he messed up.. he'll beg for forgiveness from you. for you were and still are his reason for who he is.

you were his one and only daughter, he will make it up to you.

"Follow me now! Time isn't going any slower!"

Little did he know, he wasn't at fault at all.

You were just born that way.

You knew what you were and you embraced it as a way to cope from him being taken away from you.

Of course you had to blend in and you took on the mantle of taking over your late father's radio show, eventually becoming as famous as he was and you were nothing but just as charming as he was on his show.

But then you killed, the power imbalance favoring you was nothing but amazing to you.

Years later, you enjoyed it. Killing was your life's purpose. Your crimes were never a subject for you to ever regret or feel guilt for.

You regret nothing.

You were a merciless killer then, and one now.

Through earth and hell, forevermore.

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slytherinshua · 3 months

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BURNT PROMISES, SECOND CHANCES : a wonwoo atla au.

genre. avatar the last airbender au. arranged marriage au. slow burn. no communication istg. mutual pining. angst. fluff. fire lord wonwoo. nobleman's daughter/fire lady/briefly assassin reader. ft. advisor!jeonghan & brother!mingyu. warnings. wonwoo is frustratingly bad at anything social. reader is neglected. reader is depressed. wonwoo is overworked ngl. dragons. swords. (reckless) firebending. brief brief mention of child abuse. burns from firebending. blood. assassination lol. wonwoo is shirtless like... 3 times BCUZ AXE WANTED IT OKAY?? kissing. pairing. wonwoo x fem!reader. wc. 14.5k (i am so insane and i almost died 15 times writing this.) a/n. this fic is my longest ever fic and tbh idk if i'm ever gonna write a fic this long for a long time. i used to not be able to write more than 3k and then suddenly BOOM 14.5K OUT OF NOWHERE?? this is definitely a fic i'll remember for a long long time, and i have to say i'm extremely proud of it. fandom cross-overs have always been one of my absolute favorite things to write, and this definitely filled a little spot in my heart that i didn't know needed to be filled w a svt atla au. special thanks to @blue-jisungs who has hands down been the most helpful person in me being able to complete this fic-- i seriously wouldn't have finished it without you </3, and thank you to @wheeboo for proofreading this beast for me <3 i love you both very much :D

Wonwoo stood at the edge of the coffin, blank eyes staring down at the body that lay inside it. The news had been shocking to the whole Fire Nation. As far as anyone knew, the late Fire Lord had been healthy and suspected to rule for several more decades, yet here he lay, lifeless and cold in the wooden box. Wonwoo felt neither sadness nor grief. His father had always been a cold man who had shown little attention to his children.

Mingyu, Wonwoo’s younger brother, had become a ship general the year prior, and was still at sea, unable to return in time for the funeral or his brother’s suddenly announced coronation. Though, hearing the news of his father’s passing had started him back in the direction of home, it would take him several months or more to arrive still. He would stay for a month or two before returning to his diplomatic travels to the Earth Kingdom.

Wonwoo had, of course, been aware from a young age that he would one day become the Fire Lord. It was destined for him as the eldest son, and he had spent his entire life leading up to now preparing for it. His training had been twice as intense as Mingyu’s growing up, and while he had sometimes seen it as unfair during his teen years, he quickly grew to understand the burden he must bear as the next in line to the throne.

He had responsibilities that Mingyu did not. He was not only expected to attend extra fire bending lessons, but he was required to be well-versed and knowledgeable in political matters, royal etiquette, local affairs, military management, and public speaking. On paper, he had all the qualifications necessary to be a responsible and wise leader, though it was Wonwoo’s own doubts and uncertainties that led to the uneasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of the power.

His gaze wandered a little, up to the throne surrounded by crimson flames, once occupied by his father, now empty. Soon, he would be the one seated there. There was a sense of pride that flickered in his eyes as he took in the sight. He had always been determined to become a leader that the nation could trust. He had always assumed he would have a little more time to prepare, though.

There were many things that still felt improper about his coronation in two days. For as long as the position of Fire Lord had been in place, it was customary that the lord be already wed before taking the throne. And, if he happened to already have children to secure the family line, even better.

Wonwoo had neither.

He had barely ever thought about women or love, having been too focused on his studies. But now, the task of finding a wife as quickly as possible was plaguing his mind among the other sudden changes.

“Your Highness?”

Wonwoo turned at the sound of the voice echoing in the empty throne room. It belonged to Jeonghan, Wonwoo’s advisor and long-time friend. Jeonghan was one of the few people that maintained Wonwoo’s absolute unwavering trust, something that not even Mingyu could say he possessed.

“I’ve compiled a list of eligible young ladies that would be suitable to be your bride. Given the pressure from the public, there isn’t much time for you to spend much time with them, but if any of them pique your interest, you could at least meet them before the wedding.” He explained, handing over a scroll to Wonwoo.

Upon unravelling it, Wonwoo scanned a long list of names, each clearly stating who the woman's father was and what connections she had. Below each name was a brief description of background, and important or notable skill sets and events were specifically stated.

“You’ve put stars next to some names.” Wonwoo noted, furrowing his eyebrows as he read further down the list.

“The stars are to separate the ladies whose fathers have already expressed their approval of their daughters marrying you. I didn’t star the ones who seemed greedy for the throne or possibly had ulterior motives, I might add. I would suggest picking from them if no one particular interests you.” Jeonghan clarified, pointing to a couple of the starred names, “These young ladies are well beloved by the public for their beauty and skills. Some are excellent firebenders, others have accomplishments in different areas.”

“How long do I have to choose?”

“About 4 days… 6 at most. Though, I’m sure the wedding planners and the lady’s family would both be appreciative of extra time to prepare for the ceremony. If you leave it to the last minute, they’ll have to scramble to get everything ready in less than 48 hours.”

Wonwoo nodded, “I’ll decide by this evening and give you my selection. Please set up a meeting with her family for Thursday. If the wedding is on Sunday, I’d like to have at least met her once before then. Thank you for the list, it makes the process a little easier.” He said sternly.

Jeonghan laughed and threw an arm around his shoulder, “Why so gloomy? You’re about to become the Fire Lord! And you get to choose among the most beautiful young ladies of the Fire Nation to be your wife! Brighten up a bit!”

“Despite the celebrations, I’m not feeling particularly cheerful about any of it. I’m juggling the coronation, picking a wife, the wedding, keeping track of Mingyu’s route back from the Earth Kingdom, electing a new army recruit, firing some of the higher ranking generals that only survived because of bribes with my father, and tending to the public’s complaints about the reconstruction on the East side of the city. My brain feels like it’s about to explode.” Wonwoo sighed.

“For this week until your wedding, focus on the first two of those tasks. The coronation will go smoothly even if you don’t write the speech ahead of time. You’ve prepared for many years for this. The rest can wait a little, but you can’t show up to your wedding without first choosing who you are marrying, so please inform me of who you choose as soon as possible.” Jeonghan patted his shoulder reassuringly.

Wonwoo nodded, taking one last look at the long list of potential wives before rolling the scroll back up, “You’re right. I’ll make sure to give the time sensitive tasks my full attention.”

“Would you like to join me for some tea?” Jeonghan suggested, “I’d like to take one more chance to address you as Prince Wonwoo before your change in title. Or should I start calling you Fire Lord Wonwoo already?” They both laughed at Jeonghan’s teasing, and Wonwoo agreed to the offer for tea. He was glad that amongst all the change, Jeonghan remained a constant steady fixture of his life.

Wonwoo kept his word and picked out a bride from the list before his coronation. He trusted Jeonghan and his judgement on who were the best potential wives, and so he picked from among the starred candidates. After comparing descriptions and seeing some portraits, he finally landed on his final choice.

His crowning as Fire Lord took place on Wednesday. The ceremony went by surprisingly quickly, which relieved him of some of the stress he carried. The Fire Lord headpiece felt heavy and unstable on top of his head, and though he had made it through the coronation, he still felt uneasy. Was he really qualified to take on such an important role?

Wonwoo didn’t get much sleep Wednesday night. Shuffling in the corridors and disturbance of the long red curtains in his bedroom kept him awake most of the night. He was sure it was just all the sudden changes getting to his brain and keeping him up, but the anxious feeling that he couldn’t shake off almost tormented him.

He put on one of his best robes to visit his soon-to-be bride the next morning. The walk to the family’s house was short as they were among the nobility of the Fire Nation and lived within 20 minutes of the royal palace, in the heart of Caldera City. Wonwoo had done some additional research on the lady he had picked with the help of Jeonghan. Since he wasn’t able to pick a bride the traditional way, he wanted to try to lessen the chance of unhappiness in the marriage by trying to pick someone with qualities he respected, which is how he landed on you.

Y/n L/n: the daughter of a high-ranking government official who worked in Ancient Studies and the Preservation of Fire Nation Culture. Wonwoo had heard that your father was quite the fire-bending expert, though it was said that you did not possess the gift. You were renowned for your beauty and intelligence, as well as a kind heart.

If it was true that you fit the description, Wonwoo had high hopes that even if he didn’t fall in love, he would still be able to proudly say that you were his wife. He just hoped that you wouldn’t despise him. He didn’t have the best track record when it came to romance.

Being busy with his princely duties and preparing for the throne all his life, whenever he received any romantic gestures or subtle flirting from girls, they usually went right over his head. He didn’t have the slightest grasp on the concept of flirting or reciprocating emotions, and since it wasn’t something that came naturally to him as a teen, he always assumed that he would learn later in life. He had always expected there to be plenty of years for him to find a wife when he felt ready. He certainly hadn’t bet on being rushed into it when he was barely 22.

But this was the way things had panned out, and Wonwoo had no choice but to face it head on. He was the Fire Lord now. There was no room for nervousness.

He left his guards by the gate of the house, strolling through the pleasant front gardens by himself. There was a stone pathway that led to the front of the house. He took his time getting there, stopping to smell the flowers that had been planted on either side. His real intention of getting to the door as slowly as possible was his quickly growing nerves in the pit of his stomach, but he masked it well.

As soon as he knocked on the door (Wonwoo swore even before he opened the door), it was opened by family servants. They immediately bowed at him and welcomed him inside, leading him towards a large sitting room where the family was waiting for him.

His eyes immediately fell on you, and without even knowing, his lips upturned into a small smile. The portrait he had been given of you really didn’t do you any justice. You were infinitely better in person, he thought. He introduced himself and took a seat, preparing for the conversation that would unfold in the next hour or more.

He could tell that you were nervous as you talked. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap each time you had to answer a question Wonwoo or your father posed, and for some reason, it made Wonwoo feel more at ease. He was glad he wasn’t the only one feeling anxious over this first meeting, though he was sure no one would be able to tell. He had perfected his public speaking at the age of twelve.

The basic introductions and formalities were coming to an end after almost an hour of speaking. Wonwoo had clarified all the expectations that would come of being a Fire Lady and your father seemed overjoyed that Wonwoo was taking interest in his daughter.

“It seems this conversation is dying down a little. Would you mind if I talked with Y/n alone? Perhaps we could take a walk around the garden?” Wonwoo asked gently and was met with enthusiasm from both your parents.

“Of course! Take as long as you want with her.”

You led the way out to the back garden which Wonwoo found to be even more charming than the front garden. There were twice as many flowers, as well as a stone fountain in the centre of the grounds. What Wonwoo found most pleasing was the small turtle duck pond nestled by a tree. He made his way over to it with you.

“I hope you’re not… opposed to this marriage?” Wonwoo started tentatively, first addressing his biggest fear.

Thankfully, you smiled and shook your head, “I would be a fool to be opposed to a marriage to the Fire Lord.”

“But, are you not disappointed?” He asked.

Again, you shook your head, “You must be referring to the fact that we are not marrying for love? Of course I had always hoped that my marriage would contain mutual love and respect… who knows, maybe it still can? I know I will be making my parents happy with this, and I am flattered that I, of all the Fire Nation, seemed to catch your attention. I wouldn’t have accepted this marriage if I hadn’t considered thoroughly all that it would entail. I’m ready to commit to being your wife, though I am not sure why you sought out me.”

Wonwoo smiled, “You don’t seem to give yourself enough credit. Your list of accomplishments was longer than any of the other ladies.”

“My ‘list’?” You questioned, digging into your pocket to pull out a small piece of wrapped up fabric.

“Yes,” Wonwoo laughed softly, “Given the rush for this marriage, I was given a list of ladies to pick from to make it easier.”

You unfolded the piece of fabric, revealing some small pieces of bread, and crouched down to toss one piece into the water. A baby turtle duck swam up to eat it immediately, the others following along, hoping to get a piece of the bread too. Wonwoo smiled again, watching you feed the turtle ducks with care. He hoped you would like the turtle duck pond at the palace as well.

“What accomplishments were on that list… If I may ask?” You were curious. You didn’t view your life as particularly grand or accomplished. You had spent most of your childhood sheltered and started school late.

“You graduated top of your class from one of the most prestigious schools in the nation. I heard you took up a variety of extra classes beyond the basics, including painting and even army history despite not being able to firebend. Your list of charity work was particularly long. If I remember correctly… over ten different organizations are in your name?”

“I’m glad they included that, at least. It might be one of the only things I’m actually good at.” You mumbled, and Wonwoo furrowed his eyebrows.

You stood up again to face him, “Is it true that you own a dragon?”

Wonwoo was partially taken aback by your question, but he answered it nonetheless, “Yes. Part of my firebending training was studying the behaviours of Huoyan. We learned together. She was just a baby when I got her. I owe my firebending skills more so to her than any of my past masters.”

You watched Wonwoo talk about his dragon, intent on the way his eyes— which had been dull and tired looking all during his visit— seemed to brighten and sparkle as soon as he started telling you about Huoyan. You had always been interested in animals, particularly Fire Nation ones. You took close care of the turtle ducks, but because you couldn’t firebend, you were never allowed to own a dragon.

“She sounds incredible. If you wouldn’t mind…” You started, your cheeks flushing halfway through. You weren’t sure if what you were about to ask was entirely appropriate— you could be majorly overstepping. The way Wonwoo was waiting expectantly pushed you to complete it, though. “Would you be so kind as to introduce me to her once I move into the palace?”

Wonwoo graced you with a smile back, “Of course. Once you move into the palace I’ll be sure to introduce you to her. Perhaps I could even take you for a ride on her?” Wonwoo suggested, and was met with your ready agreement. You asked again if you really had his word to complete the request. You wouldn’t rest until you were sure of his sincerity. You grinned when he promised— within the first week of being at the palace, in fact, you would be well acquainted with his dragon.

Wonwoo had other meetings for the day, so he had to leave shortly after your discussion about dragons. The next time you would see him, he would be your husband. You wondered how living with him would be. Would it feel awkward and cold like your conversation in the house or would it feel warm and honest like the brief discussion about dragons?

You hoped it would be the latter, but you soon found that your hope only led to disappointment.

Your wedding to Wonwoo was a very public affair. All the nobles and half of the middle class of the Fire Nation were invited to the ceremony. While you weren’t unused to public events from growing up in the nobility, the massive number of people attending a royal event as prestigious as a wedding was definitely foreign to you. You used to be part of the crowd and only very rarely the subject of attention. Given that you were becoming the Fire Lady, you would have to get used to the attention quickly.

There was no chance to talk to Wonwoo before the ceremony, despite getting ready at the palace. The servants helped you with your wedding garments, which were fancier than anything you had ever put on before. The gold elements of the luxurious silk robe were hand-sewn on and glimmered when the light shone on them. They depicted flames of gold and red, and even the red thread seemed to shine brightly. The dress was mostly made up of a rich dark red material which was lightweight but clearly much higher quality than anything you could buy at a market.

The maids applied gold shimmer to your eyes as well as a dark red lip, as was traditional of the wife of the Fire Lord. The last piece of your outfit was an elegant headpiece. It, too, was gold and was pinned uncomfortably tight into your hair to keep from slipping.

You looked in the mirror one last time before the ceremony, turning your face to the side to view every angle with scrutiny. These were your last few minutes as just the daughter of nobility. Within half an hour, you would be the new wife of Fire Lord Wonwoo, ruler of the Fire Nation.

As soon as you stepped into the view of the public, there were deafening cheers. More than half the Fire Nation was in attendance, it seemed. Such a cause for celebration hadn’t happened in years.

The public had always been nosy about the personal lives of the royal family. There were groups of people who loved to romanticise it and believed that every royal wedding only came about when a son or daughter of the royal family had fallen into the deepest of love.

There were people with a bit more sense, thankfully. They still wished you and Wonwoo to have the happiest marriage possible, but their judgement wasn’t clouded with the unrealistic idea that royals had the luxury of marrying for love.

You could only hope that Wonwoo would fall in love with you. You believed yourself capable of loving him if you were sure he loved you back. Until you were sure, though, you took everything with healthy apprehension. You weren’t going to allow your mind to be clouded with the softness and warmth that you had felt from him during your walk in the garden. Your mother had always told you that you couldn’t judge a person by how they acted when they were trying to make a good first impression. You needed to watch and silently observe— and only then would you know the true nature of your husband.

This is why your eyes stayed firmly on Wonwoo throughout the ceremony and afterparty. The public thought you were enamoured with him, oblivious to the fact that you had barely spent more than two hours in his presence. You were eager for the wedding to finally be over, hoping in your mind that Wonwoo would invite you to meet Huoyan after.

He did not, though. Instead, he bowed to you and said he had some things to attend to before retreating back to his chambers, letting the servants show you to your new room. You were disheartened when you realized it was almost on the opposite side of the palace from Wonwoo’s. What kind of married couple slept so far apart? Even the justification of this being an arranged political marriage didn’t constitute that level of separation.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, contemplating the issue. Your brain was screaming to bring it up with Wonwoo. How were you supposed to get close to him when you were separated during the day and during the night? He was your husband. There was no reason why you couldn’t bring it up with him.

But what if he wanted to be separate from you? You thought about the possibilities for minutes before finally dismissing it. You felt nervous at the thought of asking him about it first. You didn’t have the courage to speak to him that freely yet— you were sure you would sound entitled if you did.

You hoped that the situation was just a result of how the royal palace worked, and not because Wonwoo had no wish to get to know you more. Despite growing up a nobel, you had never set foot inside the royal palace and were ignorant to its inner workings. But there was still time to learn.

You spent the next 2 weeks familiarizing yourself with the palace and your responsibilities as Fire Lady. There weren’t many— especially compared to the Fire Lord’s responsibilities— but it was enough to keep you busy for a few hours of the day. They were mostly social matters, enriching yourself with the people of the nation, and listening to their concerns.

You quite liked the work you were given. You had always excelled at finding solutions to tricky problems, and it stimulated your brain much more than at home. The times you were working were the best part of your day. When you were left on your own in the palace, you succumbed to boredom. It was big and empty inside— the only warmth in the place coming from the elaborate flames used as decoration. It didn’t feel like home to you, so you spent most of your day by the turtle duck pond in the gardens. Though you longed for some human interaction, the turtle ducks at least kept you company.

One thing continued to bother you, though.

You barely saw Wonwoo at all.

Since your wedding, you had only had two other conversations with him in 2 weeks, each of which only lasted for a few minutes. Wonwoo woke up earlier than you did and didn’t wait for you to come down to eat breakfast to start on his tasks as Fire Lord for the day. He would often go on overnight trips without informing you, which made you feel almost invisible to him.

Whenever you crossed paths with him inside the palace, he was very clearly on his way to somewhere important and couldn’t spare any time for you. You had started to try to initiate conversations with him in hopes that a little effort would break the ice between you two— just simple things like asking about his work or how his day had been. He responded gently, but it was very clear in his tone that he had no desire to continue talking to you. It had been unsuccessful so far, as each conversation ended abruptly when one of the servants called for Wonwoo’s attention or he excused himself from your presence.

You often saw him talking to his advisor: Jeonghan. He seemed to follow your husband around everyday with a huge pile of scrolls. You assumed they were the daily tasks of the Fire Lord.

You were the last person to interrupt someone when they were so clearly busy working, so you kept to yourself as much as you could. Despite your loneliness and constant boredom, time seemed to pass quickly. April fourteenth marked six months post the wedding. By this time, it was quite usual for you to not even see Wonwoo at the palace for weeks at a time.

You didn’t ask for much. You were never a greedy or dependent person. But the lack of attention given from Wonwoo had started to affect you more than you realized. You used to be social and bright, filled with energy to tend to people’s issues or helping animals. Now, you barely even went out to the market anymore.

You had become rather dull and cold to Wonwoo whenever you saw him, hoping that he might pick up on your change of demeanour and fix something in his attitude, but he seemed as oblivious as ever. In your head, you had absolutely resigned to the fact that your husband did not care for you at all, and that the rest of your marriage would carry on in this sad lonely state. He still slept in his room that was on the other side of the palace from you. He still kept busy with duties all day long. He still woke up earlier than you and turned in early (you had started to think that he was doing this to purposefully avoid you). You felt hopeless and your loneliness brought with it depression.

You even felt a little betrayed by him. He had made several promises to your father that first meeting, one of which was that you would be sure to be happy and content at the palace. He couldn’t have been more wrong on that.

Your brain also kept going back to his later promise that he made to you in the garden— that you would get to meet Huoyan as soon as you moved in. All these months, you had clung in vain to that side of Wonwoo in the garden. If he was truly like that to you everyday, you were sure you would’ve fallen deeply in love with him.

But now you knew for certain that it was all just an act. You had been wrong about Wonwoo all this time. He had no intention of getting to know you. The warmth you had once felt from him was truly a one-time thing. You didn’t expect that he would ever showcase that sincerity to you ever again.

Over time, you slowly lost interest in making an effort, and retreated further into your new life of solitude. There was a lot you could do in your room, big open space secluded from the rest of the palace. With a quick trip to the palace armoury one late night, you found yourself a new hobby.

If you had done this right after your wedding, you would’ve made sure to ask Wonwoo about it first; another precaution in hopes of being a “good wife” and “one that he could grow to love”. Having tried everything you possibly could think of and failing at that task, though, you didn’t care if he minded or not. The servants all took your orders as the Fire Lady without any questioning, and you quickly learned to use your position of power to keep yourself entertained enough to not entirely lose your mind stuck doing nothing for months.

And so, with two borrowed long swords from Wonwoo’s collection, one sharp dagger, fifteen ancient martial arts scrolls and five sword-fighting ones, you dedicated yourself to the art of self defense and battle. If you were careful enough, Wonwoo would hear nothing about this.

Wonwoo had been anticipating Mingyu’s arrival back home for weeks. It was unsurprising that he had taken twice the expected amount of time to get back home than any other general would have. Mingyu’s skills at directing a fleet of ships were… questionable. No one could strip him of his position, though. His title as prince overruled any judgement from any of his crew.

“Wonwoo! How have you- Ow!”

Wonwoo looked up from the map he was studying, quick enough to catch Mingyu hop forward in pain, clutching his foot from where he had bumped it against the edge of a table. Wonwoo smiled. He had a lot of affection for his younger brother, no matter how incompetent he was sometimes. And though he would never admit it, he had missed him while he had been gone for a year.

“I’ve been well. It’s still the same here. Quiet. Especially when you’re away.” Wonwoo commented, rolling up the map and setting it aside.

“It’s still the same? Father died, you became Fire Lord, and you got yourself a wife, yet it’s still the same?!” Mingyu asked incredulously. Wonwoo could only nod, stepping down from the throne to walk with Mingyu.

“How is married life?” Mingyu asked once the two were walking out of the throne room.

Wonwoo shrugged, “I thought it would be different from being single, but it barely is. I still spend most of my time in solitude.”

“Don’t you talk to her?”

Wonwoo paused before answering, “I don’t see her much. We both seem to be rather busy.”

“Do you at least make an effort to talk to her when you can? You can’t be that busy. No matter how many tasks you had, I know you still drink tea with Jeonghan every day.” Mingyu pointed out, disappointed in his brother’s excuses. “I know you were always hopeless when it comes to this, but you must have considered how lonely she must feel in solitary in this massive palace, right?” Mingyu studied Wonwoo’s face carefully, sighing when he caught the guilty look in his eyes which he had hoped would not appear.

“So let me get this straight,” He took a breath, “You married one of the prettiest ladies in all of the Fire Nation, only to never talk to her and then wonder why married life is so quiet?”

Wonwoo admitted to it in a hesitant mutter, causing Mingyu to groan.

“God, you’re stupider than I thought! At this rate, she’ll want to break off the marriage, Wonwoo. Don’t you see that she has the power to ruin your reputation as Fire Lord if she chooses? If you don’t remedy this, she could tell the entire Fire Nation that their beloved Fire Lord is a cold and cruel man with no affection for his wife, despite her efforts to get closer to him.” Mingyu stated clearly.

Wonwoo frowned. He had never thought of that possibility before. “It’s been… almost a year since our wedding already.” Wonwoo realized, shocked at how fast the time had all gone. The days seemed to bleed into one another, and with his lack of sleep keeping up with daily tasks, you were often the last thing on his mind.

“Do you think it’s even possible to make it up to her now?”

“Well, yes, you have worsened your chances of fixing it by studiously ignoring her existence for 12 months, but you shouldn’t feel completely hopeless. If you put in the right amount of effort, she might come around.”

“What should a husband do to try to win the affection of his wife?” Wonwoo asked, feeling completely overwhelmed at the situation.

“Send her flowers, do her favourite activities together, take her on dates, devote time to her! And for God’s sake, don’t forget your own wedding anniversary! You can’t expect her to care for you when you don’t give her any of your time.” Mingyu explained frustratedly. Among the two brothers, he was definitely the more experienced when it came to love. Unlike Wonwoo, he actually had time to date amongst his other commitments.

Wonwoo felt a pit in his stomach, an uncomfortable lurch in his core that was screeching out all the mistakes he had made. He realized in an instant how truly awful he had been treating you without even knowing it. He had foolishly assumed that you, being of nobility already, would do fine on your own in the palace. Given the nature of the marriage, he hadn’t even considered your possible desire to get closer to him, or the stress that would come with being uprooted so abruptly, going from your own familiar living space to the deafening quiet of the royal palace. Now that he was aware of all of these errors on his part, he felt a strange crack in his heart; an ache that couldn’t be soothed without knowing that he could make you happy again.

He had made many mistakes— almost innumerable. As his brain raced, it only pulled more and more instances of your clear discomfort that he had never bothered to pay attention to before this moment. He thought back to every interaction he had with you over the months, and it was never more clear to him that you had only been comfortable around him during your first meeting together. The feelings that the dragon conversation had brought in both of you had never been repeated.

Wonwoo now knew what he needed to do. He was determined to get you back to the way you were smiling and laughing that first conversation. He needed to fulfil his promises— however late he was to that. And he had a hope that the key to setting everything to rights was sleeping on his back doorstep: Huoyan.

Your mental health had significantly improved since you had picked up your new hobby. It gave you a thrilling surge of excitement whenever you were able to pick up the two long swords from the box under your bed. It was more dangerous than anything you had ever been allowed to try as a nobleman’s daughter— yet, it was always something you had been interested in.

You liked delicate things well enough. Sewing and painting and dancing were all enjoyable hobbies, but they never truly excited you as much as dragons or firebending or sword fighting. You had grown up watching your father teach Fire Nation history and demonstrate some of the very first fire bending techniques; learned straight from the dragons.

Tried as you did when you were a child, you could never seem to produce a single spark or flame. It disheartened you early on in life, and once that fantasy of adventure had been shut down, your father never saw the point in teaching you sword fighting. You had been disclosed to be a gentleman’s lady: one who sat still and looked pretty and smiled a lot. But now that you had the tools and authority, you weren’t one to let this chance to indulge your inner child go.

You quickly got in the habit of sneaking out to test your quickly improving skills in the real world. You used the training grounds in the middle of the night when no one would see you, and after a couple months, you felt confident enough to go even further. You found a list of active criminals in the Fire Nation and took it upon yourself to take them on.

Charity work had always been your favourite— helping people had always been your passion. It fuelled you like nothing else had, and each night that you snuck back into the palace having successfully taken down another threat was another night you slept soundly.

It wasn’t long until the Fire Nation started to notice. A new hero taking out the nation’s top criminals— ones that not even the royal guard had been able to capture. They named you The Scarlet Shadow for your dark crimson and black robes and your proficiency in the art of stealth. Your smaller frame and stature helped you get around unseen. You used the shadows to your advantage, slipping in and out of them without being caught.

It was incredible how much you learned without a dedicated master. You wished you could hire one, but you didn’t want to be found out by Wonwoo, so you kept everything as secretive as possible. You spent the entire day reading scrolls and practicing in the privacy of your room. Once the sun set and you had told the servants you were sleeping early yet again, you snuck out.

It was now the first week of October, and you were dreadfully reminded that your first wedding anniversary would come on the fourteenth of the month. The first six months had been some of the worst of your life— mercilessly having been ignored and made to feel insignificant by your own husband. But the latter six brought some of the best months of your life.

The freedom of The Scarlet Shadow completely disconnected you from your duties as the Fire Lady. It brought a freedom that you never had, and if this was how you would be spending the rest of your life in the palace, you would gladly accept it.

Your target for tonight— the fourth of October— was an infamous and nefarious man named Orin. He was known to capture children from homeless Fire Nation families with an excuse of paying taxes. He then sold them to the rich and corrupt as slaves. The abuse didn’t stop there, as many of them were malnourished, overworked, never paid, and even beaten.

Your heart ached for the victims of the man. You had known about this situation for years, but was never able to do anything about it. Given his reputation, Orin would have probably taken one look at you before being determined to marry you. You could only wonder at what horrors his past wives had to go through. They had all run away from him as soon as possible. Some, less fortunate ones, had died trying.

You got dressed in your garments: a black and red robe that was easy to move and fight in. It was stealthy, and didn’t make any sound when you walked in it unlike the fancy bejewelled silk robes that you wore as Fire Lady. You sheathed the long swords and stuck the dagger safely in your shoe, ready to pull out and throw when you needed to. You pulled up the black cloth over your nose, shielding all but your eyes so that no one could identify you.

And then, you jumped out the window.

It was a cold night: one of the first proper ones in October. Given the change of the season, more people were sleeping earlier. Most of the city was hushed and in their beds already, which made your task even easier. It was always more risky to navigate in the summertime when night festivals were held until morning.

Orin’s house (or mansion, that is) was on the East side of town. The man slept late, usually partying until the early hours of the morning. You wished you could get the job done while he was sleeping, but it would be too risky. If anyone found out that you weren’t at the palace, you would never hear the end of it from your personal servants and advisors. You grimaced, thinking what Wonwoo would think of this whole situation.

You weren’t sure why he was always on your mind. Everything you did came back to him, even though you still didn’t know him. You had always thought that the relationship between a husband and his wife should be intimate and companionable. You wanted to be able to tell your husband anything and everything— to be able to confide in him and seek comfort when you needed it. You wanted to be taken care of, and in turn, take care of him. You wanted the supporting relationship that you had seen in your parents.

And though you knew that Wonwoo had none of these qualities, you still held out hope that he would one day improve. You had seen many people have changes of heart; even the cruelest man had a chance to change his ways.

When you had first met Wonwoo, you had been overcome with just how beautiful he was. You had been so sure that his heart must be as beautiful as his face, foolishly having fallen for his charming smile and pleasant offers which you now knew were just a facade to win you over. Your chest tightened thinking about how wrong you were.

Yes, he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His dark silky hair always fell perfectly over his forehead, hitting just below his eye, complementing his face shape. He always dressed in only the finest silk. You admitted to being guilty of admiring his figure from afar. You were sure he was in shape— any firebender who trained as vigorously as he definitely was. You had never seen more than a sliver of his collarbone; but it was enough to confirm that he had enough muscle to run a nation.

And that was something you did admire about him. He was able to run the Fire Nation to perfection. Within the first months of being Fire Lord, he had already come up with several clever solutions to problems that his late father had started. He was healing the Fire Nation’s relationship with the Earth Kingdom through his younger brother, Mingyu. He sent diplomats to the other 2 nations as well, promising aid in any crisis that might arise. He preached peace and harmony between the 4 nations, and you were glad he wasn’t a proud Fire Lord with elitist ideals, but a humble and honest one.

You still held respect for him as a Fire Lord, but any respect that you had for him as a person was dwindling the more days spent as if you didn’t exist. You longed to be noticed, to be treated as an actual person. You didn’t need to experience love, but you had always wanted to. Didn’t you deserve to at least once?

Wonwoo huffed, sweat beading on his forehead and back from the challenging training he had set himself to do. He breathed, and with each breath came new sparks of fire. It was hot in the room, but he barely noticed, too focused on the new skill he was attempting to master. It was a sort of jet propulsion— using the flames he was able to create to propel him forward at a high speed.

Huoyan watched him from the corner where she napped. Her red scales brandished against the warm light that came from the fire in the room. Since Wonwoo was 13, he had stopped taking lessons from the palace masters and learned on his own with Huoyan instead. She was a strict master, one could say; but the bond he had created with her was stronger than anything else.

Wonwoo attempted the move again, faltering at the last second, causing the blast to hit the ceiling in an uneven flurry. He groaned and fell to the ground, frustrated at how long it was taking. He used to be the quickest learner in the Fire Nation. He was able to focus all his attention on mastering new skills with ease, and that allowed him to pick up on techniques twice as quickly as others.

He just couldn’t focus at all right now.

Huoyan whined from the corner, showing her disapproval of Wonwoo’s inability to pick things up quickly. He frowned, rolling to the side, still on the floor, and looked at her. She was curled up, almost catlike, her wings wrapped around her body like a blanket. But Wonwoo couldn’t miss the grumpy look on her face. He stood up and walked over to her, reaching out his hand to rest on her nose, scratching it gently.

“I’m sorry, Huoyan. I don’t think I’m in the right mindset to train right now…” He muttered, sitting down in front of the dragon. He reached over for his silk robe that he had folded before training, slipping his arms through the arm holes again but not bothering to tie it across his body. Huoyan licked Wonwoo's hand— a sign of affection and trust amongst dragons and their owners, and Wonwoo smiled.

“Do you think she hates me?” Wonwoo asked quietly, not really looking for an answer from the dragon, though she gave him a low rumble. “Right. She probably does. I would hate me too…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had been thinking of you ever since Mingyu had come to visit almost a month ago. It was all he could think about. The guilt was eating him up from the inside out. Whenever he heard mention of you, his stomach lurched forward and the guilt practically doubled.

“I don’t know what I need to prioritize anymore. I prepared my whole life for being the Fire Lord… I’ve learned what to do in situations and what choices to make that keep the wellbeing of the entire nation at its core. But no one prepared me for being a husband. How do I even make it up to her?” He frowned.

He had always confided in Huoyan. As ridiculous as it sounded to talk to a dragon, Wonwoo had always found it the most natural. She couldn’t give him responses like Mingyu or Jeonghan, but she had insights that they didn’t. She couldn’t talk, but Wonwoo could still understand her. Their bond was strong enough for that.

He was too scared to talk to Jeonghan about his struggles. He was sure that he would laugh at him, unable to see how serious the problem was. He had never had any problem with dating or love.

“How do I show her that I care?” Wonwoo questioned. Huoyan huffed, making Wonwoo scowl and raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Of course I care about her! She’s my wife. It’s a husband’s duty to care for his wife.”

Huoyan shifted, tucking her wings closer to her chest and wagging her long tail along the floor.

“You’re right, I haven’t been showing her any attention… But… I have noticed her. I always have. She looked hopeful… and then… it was gone. I-I watched it fade away. Her eyes stopped shining. They’ve been dull for months.” He explained, distraught. “I wanted to talk to her. She always caught me at my busiest— or maybe I’m just… too nervous? You should see her Huoyan. She’s prettier than you. I’ve never seen anyone so… angelic. She used to try to start conversations with me; ask about my day and the sort. I wanted to keep talking to her but my heart would race so fast in my chest. It felt… uncomfortable.” He narrated with a small smile. Huoyan listened intently, her eyes closed. Every once and a while she would give a response— a grunt or a huff whenever Wonwoo was being unreasonable.

The conversation proved incredibly productive thanks to Huoyan’s sharp ears. Wonwoo was able to let out all his thoughts. Explaining them out loud helped him understand where things had gone wrong and how he could fix them. He decided to talk to you tonight. No more avoiding it out of fear, no more suppressing the guilt he felt. He would lay it all out to you; admit to every mistake.

He needed to earn your trust, and he would do that with being painfully honest. He knew his ego would take a massive blow, but it already had. It was dwindling. The great Fire Lord that he had always aspired to be wasn’t able to even win over his own wife. The thought was laughable.

The walk down the corridor towards your bedroom was filled with nerves. His throat felt dry as he gave a gentle knock to your door. When he didn’t hear a response, his heart sank, but he knocked again. Did you hate him so much that you weren’t even willing to listen to him?

His chest tightened at the thought. He felt entirely helpless. If you wouldn’t even listen to him, there was nothing else he could try. He knocked one more time, calling out that he would open the door if you didn’t say anything.

There was no response, and so he pushed it open slowly.

The room was empty, and Wonwoo’s eyes widened. You had nowhere to go except for the palace and the servants had informed him that you had gone to bed early and should be in your room.

Panic flooded through every inch of Wonwoo’s body. From the top of his head to his finger tips. His hands started to shake as he thought of all the possibilities.

The most likely of which? Kidnapping.

You were a nobleman’s daughter. You weren’t a firebender— you couldn’t defend yourself. You were the Fire Lady, an extremely desirable victim for enemies of the Fire Nation who wished to get some leverage over Wonwoo. His mind raced to the possibilities of needing to choose between you and whatever the people who took you wanted.

If it were a case of life or death, he would choose you in an instant.

Thanks to his extensive training, Wonwoo was easily able to think of the best move to take. Mingyu had brought with him a pack of shirshu from the Earth Kingdom. They were excellent trackers. They would be able to find you faster than Wonwoo’s search party could.

He found one of your headpieces from on top of your vanity and took it. He was in a frenzied rush, calling over his personal guards to come with him in case he needed backup. He had the shirshu sniff the headpiece, a relieved sigh escaping him when the animal seemed to pick up on your trail. He mounted Huoyan and had the guards go with the Shirshu, and started on the hasty search.

His heart was racing the entire time. Each time it looked like the shirshu had picked up on something, his heart rate felt like it doubled. It didn’t take long to find where you were, but when Wonwoo realized the location, his heart completely sank.

Orin was well known in the upper circle of the Fire Nation, and he was without a doubt, the most sickening man Wonwoo had ever met. His father had held a position in government and Orin had inherited it. Though Wonwoo wanted to arrest the man or even banish him from the Fire Nation, he didn’t have the means to expose him for his wrongdoings yet.

Kidnapping was one thing, but knowing that you were in the hands of Orin had Wonwoo’s stomach twisting inside out. He had never felt so sick to his stomach. And worst of all, it was all mostly directed towards himself. He hated himself.

If he had taken better care of you then this would never have happened. If he had paid attention to you— made sure you were safe and happy and looked after. If he had gotten over his stupid nerves and been a good husband, then you would never have had to have suffered like this.

Until he saw you with his own eyes, he could only pray with his entire being that you were still alive. He didn’t even want to think about the things Orin could do to you. Would he manipulate you? Threaten you? Take advantage of you? Harm you? Kill you?

He didn’t wait another second to storm into the house, startling the servants who quickly got out of the way. He quickly made a search through the entire house, his guards taking the lower floors while he took the upper. He blasted down the door to Orin’s bedchambers with firebending, not wasting a second to rush in.

What he found there was certainly not what he expected. The man was lying on the floor, a pool of blood underneath him, dripping out from a heavy stab wound to his chest. It was obvious that he wouldn’t survive more than 10 minutes at the most.

Before he took his chance to interrogate Orin, he saw a dark figure jumping out of the window from his peripheral vision. Was it the person who killed Orin? Then… Could they have taken you?

Wonwoo quickly changed his course, believing that going after the assassin would be more productive. If they had killed Orin then they must also know where you were, and maybe even, what Orin had done to you. He knew better than to trust anything Orin said to him. It was likely that even if he asked, the man would lie even until his dying breath. Honesty had never been one of Orin’s virtues. Not that he had any of those to begin with.

It was hard to pursue a person dressed in black and dark red during the night time. Wonwoo was thinking with a panicked and terrified brain— and so the easiest way he thought of to see where he was going was to firebend. He tried to be careful as he sprinted, shooting flames in front of him when he needed to. Sweat was building up as the exertion started to take a toll on his body. He needed to catch his breath; calm himself down from the panic he was dealing with. But the assassin was almost within reach, so he pushed his body just a little further.

He blasted one more flame forwards, but due to his exhaustion, it wasn’t perfectly aimed. It hit the assassin square in the back, knocking them to the ground roughly. Wonwoo’s eyes widened and he rushed forward.

He heard them cough, trying to roll on the ground to put out the flame, but it had clearly already burned through their garments. They screamed as the fire scorched their skin. Wonwoo felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had never used firebending so carelessly before. Even in an Agni Kai, he was focused and precise. He had rarely been in combat that wasn’t for training purposes, and even when he was, he knew how important it was to stay in control of fire. It was known that fire was the easiest element to lose control of; and so, the first thing that new firebenders were taught was the first rule of fire bending to never break: never lose control of your flame.

But Wonwoo had done just that.

Wonwoo quickly put out the flame on the assassin’s back, grimacing at the bright red scorch marks they had left on their skin. From the design of the robes, he quickly realized that this wasn’t just any assassin. He had come in contact with The Scarlet Shadow.

He quickly pushed her back so that her face was up, holding her shoulders so that her exposed back couldn’t come into contact with the rubble on the road. His hand trembled as he moved to pull down the black fabric covering the assassin’s face. She needed to be able to breath easily after being burned so badly.

Wonwoo had already been through enough panic tonight, but this was more than anything else. The face he was faced with once he removed the cloth was the last one he ever expected. Soft eyebrows, delicate eyelashes closed over eyes that he knew well, perfect lips parted to let uneven heaves escape, cheeks tainted with dirt and scraped from the fall.

“No… N-no…” He struggled to breath, holding her up as carefully as he could. His eyes stung with tears that he refused to let fall and his chest constricted for the fifth time that night. It had all gone wrong from the start— his attempts to help had all backfired. And now he was faced with a reality that felt like a stab to the heart.

Wonwoo had burned his own wife.

Wonwoo’s brain made sure to remind him of his very first conversation with you as Huoyan flew him back to the palace, you securely in his arms. You had asked to meet his dragon. You had been excited to, even making sure he promised to. Those promises had burned to the ground like everything else. He would never allow himself to forget the sparkle in your eyes as you asked him. He hadn’t seen the same shimmer of excitement since you had first become his wife.

“Would you be so kind as to introduce me to her once I move into the palace?”

He had smiled at your question back then. He had been pleasantly surprised that you seemed so interested in dragons. It wasn’t what he would have expected from you, but it gave him hope that he would be able to go closer to you. He had also always loved dragons.

“Of course. Once you move into the palace I’ll be sure to introduce you to her. Perhaps I could even take you for a ride on her?”

Take you for a ride on her. That promise was finally being completed now, in the worst way Wonwoo could ever imagine. He held you a little closer as he thought about it, his heavy breath dispersing into the air with every heavy sweep of Huoyan’s wings.

He would never forgive himself.

The healers at the royal palace were the nation’s best, and Wonwoo made sure that they had strict orders to give you their full attention. He couldn’t leave the room; couldn’t bear to think of leaving you again. No, he would stick by your side from now on. He would never leave you alone. He would devote all his attention— his heart, his mind, his body, his soul to loving you. He would make sure you never questioned his affections again.

As he watched the healers apply medicinal creams and ointment to your back, he was again reminded of that very first conversation with you.

“Of course I had always hoped that my marriage would contain mutual love and respect… who knows, maybe it still can?”

Your hope and optimism was something Wonwoo should have cherished. Your faith that a love-filled marriage was still possible for you was a quality that he could only wish he possessed. He had been entirely foolish. He had made every mistake possible to make. He had watched silently as all that hope and excitement and trust had faded from your body.

He would never forgive himself.

He always saw you roaming the corridors alone. You often went out to feed the turtle ducks. They were your only company other than the servants. Wonwoo assumed at first that you would immediately find ways of entertaining yourself. You had all the power you could wish for; anyone would bend knee and foot to your every command. You could host extravagant balls or buy gifts for yourself from across the world. You could wear the most precious gemstones and fabrics in the entire Fire Nation.

But you never did. Your humbleness had stuck with you all this time. It was something that Wonwoo could not take away from you. He didn’t know whether to be grateful for that or not. The virtue was admirable, but if you had not possessed it, could you have been happier?

Wonwoo shook his head. It was all too late for these trifling what if’s and maybe’s. The past was set in stone, unchangeable. All he could do was look to the future with hope and treat the present with the proper determination to change his ways.

Your burns were severe. Being blasted by such a powerful fireball from such a short distance had certainly left an impression. Wonwoo cried when he first saw it. Red, angry, scorched skin marked right in the middle of your back, sticking out awfully against your otherwise smooth skin. It was all because of him. He had left a second mark on you— one much more visible than the first. He had damaged your mind, and now, he had damaged your body. The guilt he carried was sickening.

Wonwoo asked Jeonghan to cancel every single responsibility for the next 4 months. Jeonghan panicked, of course. It was nearly impossible to expect the Fire Lord to do nothing for that long, but Wonwoo was firm in his request, and somehow, Jeonghan managed it.

He spent most of his time by your bedside, looking after you as carefully as he could. He ordered the healers to show him how to properly wrap your wound and apply new medicine, and once he was sure he could do it properly, he assured them that he would take care of it.

Huoyan slept closeby as well, knowing that Wonwoo wouldn’t leave your side, but wanting to be a listening ear if he needed it. Wonwoo was grateful for that, and used the opportunity well. Daily talks to the dragon helped him clear his thoughts and understand his feelings. Huoyan couldn’t lift the guilt, though.

There was only one person who could.

Wonwoo anticipated when you would wake up for more than a week. He needed constant reassurance from the healers that this was normal. Your body needed to conserve its energy to focus on healing itself. The medicine helped, but it was your own body that was going to heal it.

It took ten days for you to regain consciousness.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was excruciating pain in your back. You felt like you barely had any strength in your body. Everything felt as if you were in a daze, and your memory was extremely foggy. You couldn’t remember anything from the last month.

When you gathered enough strength to open your eyes, the first thing you saw was the symbol of the Fire Nation. A large red tapestry was hung on the wall, at least four times the length of your body. You couldn’t see much else besides it, as you were lying on your stomach, your head resting on the pillow sideways.

Ah. The palace.

You sighed, but immediately regretted it as any movement brought more shocked pain to your back. You grimaced, a pained whine escaping your lips. You felt relief before you could register the reason why, and forced your eyes open.

It was Wonwoo, pressing a cool cloth against your bandaged back gently.

Wait.

It was Wonwoo?!

“Wonwoo?” You questioned, your voice softer than you were used to. It would still take some time to get your energy back— even talking felt like more exertion than comfortable.

“Y/n. Don’t talk, please. It will only tire you out.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Wonwoo sounded different. His voice was deep and slightly raspy, but soft and full of worry. You were sure of it. It was impossible to miss. He was… worried about you?

“Wonwoo?” You asked again with a little more urgency. You felt the cloth on your back stop moving. He stayed silent, waiting for you to continue your thought. Clearly you wanted to talk, and though he didn’t like the idea of you overexerting yourself, there were many things that you were probably curious about.

“Why are you… doing that?” You were almost scared to ask. Your own sensibility forbade you from blindly trusting Wonwoo in the moment, even though your heart was screaming for it. He was so close to you (literally within 30 cm of your face), and it was all you had wanted in the past. You had just wanted to be close to your husband. You wanted to love him, and for him to love you back.

You forced yourself to be rational and not fold immediately, though everything about him was entrancing you at this moment. The smell of bergamot hit your nose and almost distracted you completely from the pain in your back. Wonwoo’s touch was soft and hesitant. He handled you as if you were a piece of glass that could shatter at any small impact. He had already hurt you enough for 1 lifetime. He never wanted to do it again.

“I want to take care of you. You’re badly injured, Y/n.” He muttered. You looked at his face, searching for sincerity in it. And it was there; clear as day. His eyes were scared and tired, as if he had barely gotten sleep in the last week.

“What… happened? Why- how did I get injured?” You demanded. Your throat was strained from the energy it took to speak, but you needed answers.

“I don’t want to distress you. You’re still in pain. Please, just… sleep for now?” He asked hopelessly.

You were torn. Sleep sounded like a dream right now, but you didn’t know if you could trust Wonwoo for answers later. You couldn’t figure him out— you didn’t know him; you couldn’t trust him. He changed like a switch after a year, and now you weren’t sure what to believe.

“Will you tell me later? Will you tell me everything?”

Wonwoo nodded, “Yes, of course. You are overdue for an… explanation. And I am sorry. I’ve treated you worse than an animal for the past year. I… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to regain your trust, but I want to. Please believe me— there’s nothing more I want to do than to make things right.” You saw his eyes get hazy, overcome with emotion; grief, remorse, self-loathing, hope. You wanted to believe him, and you barely had the energy to do otherwise, so you found yourself humming in small agreement. It seemed to put him at ease a bit. He relaxed his shoulders and stood up.

“I’ll be here if you need anything. Let me know if you’re uncomfortable.” He smiled at you— an expression you hadn’t seen from him since that very first meeting. This smile was sad, though. It couldn’t reach his eyes and it quickly fell back down. You wondered what it would look like in full. You wanted to see him smile brightly. You wanted to be able to be the cause of his smile; to be able to make him happy.

He drew the curtains to block out the sun that had just risen and walked out of your view. You closed your eyes and welcomed sleep, falling into dreams quickly. Your dream was unpleasant. You tried again and again to get Wonwoo’s attention and affection, only to be met with his old attitude. It was as if he was unaware of your existence. When you woke up, you had a bitter feeling in your chest.

You were in significantly less pain after your sleep. From the light outside, you reckoned it was a couple hours after dinner. You could sit up on your own, and you could feel your strength slowly coming back to you. You sat up quietly, having your first view of the room you were in. It was large and spacious. A large balcony was to the other side of it, decorated with elegant golden statues of two dragons. They were embracing each other; a couple.

You looked over to the dresser, and heat immediately spread up your neck and to your cheeks. You had caught Wonwoo changing his top robes. His back was right in your view. You couldn’t deny that you had pictured it before. Wonwoo had always been the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His skin was milky and smooth. His muscles were defined but he still kept a lean physique. Your eyes were trained on him as he slipped his arms through fresh red robes, tying the garment across his chest. It was only when he started turning around that you forced yourself to look away, pretending as if you hadn’t been staring.

“You’re awake.” Wonwoo commented, soon joining you on the bed— sitting on the edge of it. “Did you sleep well? How are you feeling now?”

You shied away from his dark pupils that were examining your face. His eyes looked brighter and more refreshed than before— he looked more alive than he had hours ago, and you liked the look on him. He looked… prettier.

“I’m not in as much pain now. I slept okay… just had a bad dream.” You admitted, frowning at the thought. It was hard to trust that Wonwoo would keep being this nice to you. You had never been an attention seeker; usually you hated any kind of focus on you, but something about Wonwoo’s attention was pleasant and warm.

“A bad dream?” Wonwoo echoed, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What was it about?” You shied back slightly, unused to his contented look as he waited for you to respond.

“It was just… you were ignoring me again. In the dream. I hated it.” You whispered. Wonwoo’s eyes softened and saddened, and without thinking, he reached out to cup your cheek. He knew that he had hurt you by ignoring you all those months, but to know that it had hurt you this much? It felt like his already shattered heart was splintering into his insides, tearing apart his entire body and being.

“I am so sorry, Y/n… For not showing you the love you deserve, for ignoring you all that time. I don’t know if I have an explanation for it… there’s no excuse that justifies treating you like that. Especially you. I-I’ve thought about it every day since my brother’s visit. I’m ashamed to say that it took him to knock some sense into me. I would try to explain myself… but I’m afraid I’ll only sound selfish and stupid.” He sighed heavily, shutting his eyes tightly and dropping his hand from your cheek.

“No. Tell me, Wonwoo. I want to know, no matter how bad it sounds. I want to know everything. You said you’d tell me everything.” You demanded. He nodded.

“You’re right. Are you… quite comfortable? Explaining it all might take some time. I’m still worried about your back.” Although it warmed your heart that he was so worried (the cute frown that he wore while trying to inspect if you were in pain had you melting), you cared the most about hearing what he had to say.

“I’m okay, Wonwoo. Don’t worry about me.” You reassured him. That was all it took to get him to start talking, and he started from the very beginning.

“After my father’s death, I had to find a wife quickly, as you know. I didn’t have time to deliberate much on who to pick— I just had my instincts to trust. I am certain I picked the right woman, though. You have never once disappointed me, Y/n. The fault was always on my part. I was the one who ignored you. I was the one who never tried to get closer. I was the one who failed you. And I’m so, so sorry for it.” Wonwoo’s eyes were getting teary— he couldn’t hide the gut-wrenching guilt that he felt whenever he thought about it.

You had never seen him this emotional. You were happy that he felt comfortable enough with you to be this vulnerable, but the burden he was carrying made you feel heavy as well. You wanted to comfort him, console him, assure him that it was alright. You didn’t like holding grudges— for as long as you can remember, you were always hopeful that people could change. Wonwoo was finally showing the sincerity you had always longed for. He blinked back the tears before continuing, taking a deep breath and steadying himself by looking at you.

“I always wanted to talk to you. It just… felt uncomfortable. I’ve never been good at talking to people casually. They don’t train you for that in classes, believe it or not. I’m good at public speaking and strategic planning for the nation; but if you had ever put me next to girls in school, I’d end up a flustered and oblivious mess. I was always like that. Mingyu was better with the ladies and I was better with… textbooks or animals. They can’t be hurt as easily.

“I can only assume that by ignoring you, I was trying to avoid hurting you with my words. I never considered that by doing that, I would have caused you much more pain than a few awkward conversations. You always left my heart racing when you would smile at me from across the room those first few weeks. I kept a straight face because I knew the image would stay in my brain for the rest of the day and keep me from completing important tasks. Ignoring you and the effect you had on me was a bad way to cope with my feelings. I didn’t think I had time for love.”

The explanation took you by surprise. You had always presumed that Wonwoo had never cared for you, and that was why he never put any effort into talking to you. Knowing that you had been in his heart all that time surged the hope that you had for him that had been hidden away in your heart.

“I planned to talk to you sooner, but on the night I tried to find you, you weren’t in your room. I assumed you had gotten kidnapped, so I tracked your scent with a shirshu brought from the Earth Kingdom. You can imagine my distress when I realized that the trial led right to Orin’s homestead. I was so panicked. I could only imagine what a man like him would want to do with the Fire Lord’s wife.” He breathed, the panic he felt from the time rushing back slightly.

You frowned, your heart aching to hear how much he cared for you. You grabbed his left hand gently, slowly giving it a reassuring squeeze. The gesture made a tear slip down his cheek, but he wiped it away as quickly as possible.

“I… saw someone jump out of the window and decided to follow them given that Orin was already almost dead on the floor. I thought they would know where you were if they had searched the house in order to assassinate him. I-I didn’t know it was you, and I was so panicked from it all that I used my firebending recklessly. I…” His lip trembled and more tears spilled past his waterline.

You were close to crying as well. Seeing Wonwoo so heartbroken by his own actions twisted your insides together. You pulled on his hand, making him lean forward until you could wrap your arms around him. You had never wanted to hug someone as badly. The way he crumbled into your embrace immediately finally broke you, and you allowed the tears to fall. You didn’t want him to talk until he had calmed down, so you rubbed his back, tracing the line of vertebrae one by one. You pulled away when you felt his breathing stabilise, but still kept him close to you.

“And then? After you hit me?” You questioned softly but curiously.

Wonwoo sucked in a breath, “I never meant to hit you— even before I knew it was you. I never knew you were The Scarlet Shadow. I wish I could have taken the time to be proud of you, instead of harming you.” He frowned again, but you just shook your head.

“It was all a mistake. I will heal soon. I’m pretty strong, you know?” You smiled, brushing away a tear stain from his cheek.

“I brought you here immediately and the palace healers took care of you. I asked them to teach me how to change your bandages and apply the medicine. I’ve been taking care of you for the last week.” He smiled, and you were glad he wasn’t teary anymore. You didn’t like seeing him cry.

“Wait… What’s today then? How long was I out for?” You asked.

Wonwoo looked up, counting in his head, “It’s the 14th of the month… You were out for 10 days.”

“The 14th? Isn’t that…?” You looked up, meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. Realisation dawned in them as well. It was your wedding anniversary.

“1 whole year and this has been our longest conversation yet.” You giggled. The hurt feelings you felt from that reality were gone now— replaced with only amusement as you knew the cause had been nothing but the shyness of your husband.

“I am never going to ignore you like that again. I promise.” He said seriously, and you smiled.

“I know you won’t.” You kissed his cheek before you were even realising what you were doing. Both your eyes widened simultaneously before blush spread to your cheeks. “Sorry, you just looked– I just-” You didn’t register that as you were stuttering, Wonwoo’s eyes were focused entirely on your lips. He cut you off before you could finish, catching you by surprise.

You had never been kissed before, and neither had Wonwoo. It felt new and unfamiliar, yet somehow comforting. Wonwoo’s lips were warm and soft, and feeling them move against yours instantly brought butterflies to your stomach. It took a second for you to properly kiss him back, and even more time for you both to find a steady rhythm.

It was like a dance almost; You had to tilt your head the exact right amount in order to not bump your nose against his, all while still moving your lips against his at the perfect pace. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands. They felt awkward just sitting in your lap— especially when Wonwoo’s right hand was gently holding your jaw. They found their place on his shoulders before too long, and that seemed to feel right to you. It grounded you while also allowing you to pull him closer to you, which was something you desperately wanted.

When you tried to deepen the kiss, though, Wonwoo pulled away. You blinked open your eyes, breathing heavily.

“Why’d you stop?” You asked through short inhales. Wonwoo’s face reddened.

“I- you were pulling me closer, and I wanted to hold you, but then I’d have to hold your back, a-and I can’t risk hurting you…” He whispered.

“Wonwoo… You’re going to make me fall in love with you.” You whined softly, your eyes staring into his.

“I always wished you would.” He breathed.

“You don’t have to wish for it anymore.” You promised him. “Can I… kiss you again?” You asked in a small whisper. Wonwoo nodded, immediately resuming where it had left off— lips connected; gentle, loving, and long overdue.

“I told you not to get up!” Wonwoo yelped, surprised by your arms encircling his waist before he could finish tying his robes.

“I said I’m fine. It’s been over 2 weeks. It barely even hurts anymore.” You shushed him, hugging his middle and resting your cheek against his soft silk robes.

“Barely?” He repeated, “I’m not letting you do anything until you can say it never hurts anymore.”

“You’re so stubborn.” You complained. Your hands soon found the tie on Wonwoo’s garment, and you smiled subconsciously as you realized he hadn’t been able to finish getting dressed. You held the sash in one hand, the other briefly running over his abdomen before he caught it.

“You can’t keep your hands to yourself, I see.” He muttered, amused at your actions. You shifted around until you were facing him, and started to cross his robes, tying them together (not without sneaking one last peak at his chest and abs).

“I was just trying to help you get dressed; obviously.” You rolled your eyes before stepping up onto your tippy toes to give him a small kiss.

“Are you really feeling okay, though?” He asked softly. You nodded. You really did feel fine this morning, and especially excited. Wonwoo had promised to take you for a ride on Huoyan; finally fulfilling his promise to you over a year ago.

“You know I always tell you when I’m in pain.” You soothed him.

“I know, but I can’t help but be worried about you. It’s my fault, after all. I want to take responsibility to make sure you heal properly.” He sighed. He always made sure to look at the burn every day to see how it was progressing. It had gotten significantly better, but he always had lingering worries that he had permanently damaged your body.

“It was an accident, Wonwoo.” You brushed your fingers over his cheek, tracing the line of his cheekbone with care. Falling in love with his good looks from afar over the year he ignored you was almost inevitable, but in the past two weeks when he was by your side at all times, talking and laughing and loving you, it was impossible to not fall 100 times harder for him.

“Accident or not, I hurt you. It was a mistake I am never going to let myself repeat. A husband should never hurt his wife.” He frowned. You felt like you had this conversation with him almost every day. He wouldn’t let go of the thought that everything that had gone wrong was because of him. While it was true that he had made many mistakes, you didn’t want him to carry that guilt forever.

“I already forgave you enough times, my love. There is no need to feel guilty anymore.” You shushed him for now by hugging him, knowing that you would probably have the exact same conversation the next day. Wonwoo hugged you back— it had been 4 days since you had convinced Wonwoo that he could touch your back without fear, and 7 days since you had started trying to convince him. You had both enjoyed hugs where you didn’t need to be careful of any pain, and you enjoyed another one. Wonwoo squeezed you tightly before letting you go.

“I’ll help you get ready, and then we can go.” He smiled.

“I can get ready by myself.” Your argument was bound to fail. Wonwoo followed you like a lost puppy wherever you went, and when you started walking towards the dresser for a fresh set of robes, he quickly followed.

“You ready?” Wonwoo’s bright smile was something that you would never get tired of. The gentle creases in his face to the way his eyes brightly reflected his smile, shining brightly; it was all so perfect. You would truly never get tired of him.

“I’ve waited 382 days for this. I’ve never been more ready!” You were eager and still a little impatient as Wonwoo had made you wait until after breakfast. The much looked-forward-to dragon ride had been one of the only things on your mind for the last week. And the second you saw Huoyan, you knew it would be the most magical experience you’d ever have.

Wonwoo helped you onto her back after you said hello and gave her some nose scratches which Wonwoo told you she loved. Wonwoo got on in front of you and told you to hold on tightly. Lifting up into the air caused some shrieks from you and giggles from Wonwoo. You calmed down quickly as Huoyan flew steadily. The view of the entire Fire Nation capital from up so high was unbelievable. You had never seen anything as gorgeous.

“Everyone looks so tiny from up here.” You breathed, watching the ground below as you flew gently around it. People looked to be the size of ants, and large houses were merely the size of a gold piece coin. Huoyan soared upwards above the clouds once you had had your fill of looking at the ground.

The sky was even more beautiful than the ground. It was a clear sunny day, and the clouds in the sky were varied. From large fluffy ones to misty thin ones, you tried to spot as many as you could with Wonwoo. You got tired near the end of the flight. You wished you could stay up in the sky with Wonwoo all day, but you still hadn’t recovered all your energy. You rested your head on Wonwoo’s back, closing your eyes and letting a happy smile envelop your face.

“Tired, my love?” Wonwoo asked softly. You hummed. You had been up in the air for hours now and easily lost track of time.

“Would it be silly if… I wanted to kiss you up here?” You asked quietly.

Wonwoo smiled at your slightly sleepy request, “No, it’s not silly. Unless I’m silly for wanting it as well.” He giggled softly and turned, making his face visible to you. “Huoyan, sorry.” He said quickly before capturing your lips with his.

It didn’t last long, as Huoyan started to complain about it all happening on her back. Wonwoo didn’t press for a long kiss and just let Huoyan fly back down to the palace. The rest of the day was spent less excitingly, but still enjoyable. Any moment with Wonwoo was enjoyable. You visited the turtle duck pond again and fed them, and then walked around the grounds of the royal palace together.

Once you were all ready for bed, tucked under the covers with your head on Wonwoo’s chest, he spoke again, “I thought of a question. I probably should have asked you earlier, but it only just came to me now.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you become The Scarlet Shadow?”

You hummed, “I guess it was just… a way to spend my time. I didn’t have anything to do, and I had always wanted to try fighting when I was little, so I just decided to go for it. It was very… fulfilling. I liked being able to help people.” You smiled, “And, hey, I guess I was pretty good at it. I even killed Orin.”

Wonwoo laughed, “I think I should be worried about what will happen to me if I ever anger you.” He rubbed your arm, sleepily watching you listen to his heartbeat.

“Don’t worry… I love you too much to do anything to you.” You mumbled.

“Me too.” He smiled, thinking back to the events of it all. It had been a long journey for him to end up here; with you in his arms. Among the ups and downs, one thing had stayed steady: your hope that he would change. You still gave him a second chance, even after all the pain and mistakes and broken promises. You still loved him, even when he couldn’t bear to love himself anymore. And as he made sure to heal every wound he had ever given you, you also healed his shattered soul, putting it back together piece by piece.

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