#staring at the sun ; miniseries

[strang3lov3]

Jet Stream

Joel has his fun with you after learning his shower head has a jet stream setting.

Part two of my miniseries for @noxturnalpascal Can be read as standalone but check out the first part Lather ! Thank you @merz-8 @noxturnalpascal and @tightjeansjavi for all their brainstorming on this fic!

tags-soft dom!joel, maybe not so soft dom! joel, overstimulation station, pet name (good girl, sweetheart, honey, darling) crying, fingering, multiple orgasms both clitoral and vaginal, smoochin’, praise, blowjobs, snuggles

notes- thank you for your patience with me! Hope you’re all having a lovely start to your February, please harass me and spank me to get part 3 and my Valentine’s Day one shot out by next week ❤️💖

Kindly edited by @papipascalispunk ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

Joel wakes up early, even on Saturdays. Taking advantage of the little pleasures in life, he watches squirrels and chipmunks run up and down the trees in his backyard, listening to the birds chirp while the sun rises. When the sun rises, he’ll take his morning shower and sigh in relaxation under the hot water. Let it wash over him for a little too long before he scrubs his body. 

But not this Saturday. Today, that steady pelting of water on his back and chest feels like a trickle compared to what it’s usually like. Joel’s been noticing this for a while, maybe you have too. He stands in the shower, annoyed at the glacial pace of the suds sliding off his body. After what feels like an eternity passes, he shuts off the water and examines the shower head closely. Yeah, that’ll do it, he thinks. Limescale. It’s built up around the shower head, into all the grooves. This commonly happens when hard water runs through a house. It’s an easy fix. 

Joel unscrews the shower head from its fixture then dries off. He goes downstairs and grabs a bucket and a jug of vinegar from his cleaning supply closet. He soaks the shower head in the vinegar-filled bucket for about an hour before taking the shower head out, using an old toothbrush to scrub the grooves and holes in the shower head. Joel hears a creak upstairs and quickens his scrubbing, he doesn’t need you coming downstairs and scolding him for over-exerting himself. Yeah, yeah – he should be asking you for your help and all that, but you’re too pretty for a chore like this, he thinks. Besides, his shoulder is getting better. Not quite as tender as it was a week ago. As Joel wraps up the finishing touches of cleaning the shower head, he notices some etched words that were previously covered by the limescale – Rain, Shower, Jet Stream.

Well, would ya look at that. A mischievous grin forms on Joel’s lips. His brain has been fucking addled thinking about you. You, and the way you came on your own fingers, whimpering his name. How after, you pushed your fingers past his lips, how sweet your arousal tasted on his tongue. How he’s been yearning to touch you, fuck you, but his stupid goddamn shoulder is still hurting. Hurting, but healing nonetheless. God, is he addled. But now, with this nifty little jet stream setting, he can have you melting in his hands in no time. It can do all the work for him, leaving his shoulder unharmed and without disruption to its healing process. He wonders, how many times will he make you come?

–

The day goes by as normal. It’s evening, Ellie’s not home. You’re on the couch with Joel after eating pasta for dinner. You’re knitting a blanket using mismatched yarn, just trying to find some use for the odds and ends. Joel’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch and bouncing his leg, twiddling his fingers. He looks bored, anxious. Seinfeld is on TV, Joel loves this show. He rented the series DVDs from the library in Jackson and claimed to have scratched them when they were past due. “Joel, quit,” you scold him. He’s bouncing the couch. 

“My bad,” Joel says. You can feel him staring at you. He’s touching his hair. You turn your face to look at him, raising your eyebrows expectantly. Joel wears an anticipatory look, but stays quiet. You turn your attention back to the TV and he’s now combing his fingers through his hair, sighing loudly. “Hmmm…” he hums, “What’s a guy to do…”

You drop your knitting needles in your lap. “What, Joel?”

“Oh, nothin’,” he says. Joel kind of just gestures to his hair and shrugs, like you’re supposed to know what he’s asking for. You do, of course, but he can use his words. “Ahem,” Joel clears his throat, now twirling a finger around one of his curls cheekily, making a real big show out of it. He’s smiling now.  

“Do you need me to wash your hair again, Joel?”

“If you’d be so kind, darlin’,” he grins. 

You finish the row you’re currently knitting before wrapping up your work and putting it into a basket and under the end table next to the couch. After pausing the TV, you stand up and Joel outstretches his left hand to you, which you take in your own. He groans loudly as you pull him to his feet where he stands in front of you. There’s something about him today. When you washed his hair last week, he was bashful and awkward. Today, he’s confident with his sly grin, that teasing look in his eye like he’s working an angle. Maybe he’s just excited for another shower blow job, which you’ll happily provide again. You smile too, he’ll be 0 for 2. 

When you and Joel arrive at the bathroom, he locks the door just like last time. He’s unbuttoning his jeans, not bothering to hide the bulge in his boxers. You don’t bother with the formalities of your partnered shower as you and Joel undress yourselves. It’s unnecessary at this point, after the fortuitous, amatory events of your last one. Joel notices your smirk before he turns on the hot water. He can tell you think you’re gonna pull one over on him again. That’s fine, you can believe whatever you’d like.

Joel opens the shower curtain. “After you,” he purrs, offering his hand to you as you step into the tub. You stand underneath the stream of water, wetting your hair and letting the hot water warm your skin. It feels stronger today for some reason. “Pressure’s different,” you tell Joel. 

“Is it now?” Joel asks, feigning ignorance as he joins you in the tub, cock already half mast. You step closer to him, reaching for it, feeling him grow harder in your hand. Massaging his cock, tracing your fingertips around his thick head and along the veins of his shaft, you bite down on your smile. “Yeah, that’s nice, trouble,” he sighs in pleasure, “Aren’t you something?” 

“Feel good, Joel?” you murmur. 

“Mhm,” Joel hums, “Feels just wonderful, sweetheart. You’re too good t’me.” 

Shampoo and conditioner can wait. You take the time to massage his cock a while longer as you wrap your free hand around Joel’s neck, toying with the curls at the back of his head. They’re not quite wet yet as you’ve been hogging all the hot water, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He lets you stroke his member as he holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in to kiss you softly. As you deepen the kiss, gently biting his plump bottom lip, Joel pulls away, removing your hand from his member.

“You done yet?” he asks you. 

You’re almost offended. Asshole. You were enjoying that kiss. “Not quite,” you reply, leaning forward to kiss him, touch him some more. 

Joel pulls away from you as he blocks your hand. He grips your wrist  and holds it behind your back as he spins you around, your back now facing him. “Well you’re gonna have to be,” he says. “The lady’s ’sposed to come first. That’s how we’re doing things from now on.”

“Yeah, right Joel. You can’t touch me, your shoulder is still fucked up.” you squirm away from him, but he keeps his hold on you. Gentle, firm. 

“Worry about yourself,” he warns in a tone much less teasing than before. He winces as he uses his bad arm to reach for the shower head, “Y’think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“I…” you trail off as he hovers the shower head above your torso, peering over your shoulder as he watches the water fall down your curves. He hums softly as he focuses the stream over your breasts, feeling you begin to twitch as the water teases your nipples. 

“My shoulder is healing, actually. But yeah, it is still a little fucked up,” Joel continues, “Don’t need to touch ya anyhow.”

Ohh, you’re getting it now. Joel thinks he cracked the code. “I appreciate the thought, Joel,” you chuckle. “But if you’re planning on using the shower head to make me come, just go ahead and put it back where it belongs. I’ve tried that already.”

“Figures,” he teases. “You wanna know somethin’?”

“What’s that, Joel?”

“Water pressure on this thing sucked lately, so I was cleanin’ this thing out this morning,” he begins. He keeps your arm behind your back as he sits both you and himself down on the shower bench, keeping your back pressed firmly against his torso. “Does this hurt?” he whispers before continuing. You shake your head no. “Good,” Joel says. “Anyway, wouldn’t ya know it, there’s a jet stream setting on this thing.” Joel nudges a foot between your legs and taps you. “Open ‘em. You stay like this for me.”

He’s speaking with such authority, such a commanding tone. You’re almost nervous. You could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice last week just how severely you pissed him off with the way you touched yourself in front of him, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. How you further taunted him when you pushed your fingers past his lips, dangling the premise of tasting your sweet cunt over his head. You should have known he’d retaliate.

“Was not a fan of how you got yourself off without me, pretty rudely, might I add. Told you I wanted to help, you fuckin’ deviant.”

Yup, you’re correct. He’s still fucking pissed. He did a good job keeping a lid on it until now. “Joel,” you breathe. 

“So yes, you’re right. I can’t touch ya yet,” he continues in a low voice, “S’why we’re gonna see what this does to ya, sweetheart.”

Joel keeps the shower head on the rain setting for this part. With his free hand, he cups the back of your knee and has you set your foot on the bench where you and Joel sit. This way, you’re nice and open for him to do as he pleases. He brings the shower head lower, hovering it over your torso, down your tummy, then your pussy. It’s a nice sensation, warm and gentle. When you lean your head back on his shoulder and sigh softly, he ups the ante. Momentarily, he futzes with the showerhead and switches it to the jet stream setting before bringing it back to your center. He starts the stream at your inner thighs first, working his way inward until the stream is massaging your lips, first one side and then the other. Slowly, he twists his wrist, getting your pussy used to the new sensation. He can’t see much from this angle, can’t feel anything either. He’s waiting for you to jolt and moan to know when he’s struck gold. “Shhh…” Joel quiets you when you do just that. “Oh yeah, this’ll do just fine, hm?”

Fuck, it’s intense. It’s very intense, almost too much. “Joel, fuck,” you cry. You should not have fucked with him. 

“Just relax,” he instructs, “You’ll get used to it.” But you’re not getting used to it, not even close. It’s a powerful, nearly electric sort of feeling that takes you wholly as you jerk and stutter in his hold. “Mm-mm, you stay here. Quit your squirmin’.”

“S’too much Joel,” you whine. 

“S’kinda the point,” he mumbles, “But you’re doin’ good, sweetheart. Jus’ let it happen.”

Joel rotates his wrist, directing the stream of water in tight, steady circles on your clit. The striking, uncomfortable and intense feeling is beginning to dissipate as your pleasure begins to build. Joel’s hot breath is on your neck, his torso rising and falling steadily. You can feel his warm, stiff package pressing against your lower back. “Joel, it feels so good,” you breathe. “Please don’t stop.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t dream of that,” he replies.  The movement of Joel’s wrists never falters, though he knows it’ll be sore in the morning. You move your hips in tune with his movement, eyes squeezed shut and moaning quietly, your open mouth pressed against his neck. He wonders if maybe you haven’t quite realized the circumstance you’re in, what he plans to do to you. “Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he mumbles, wearing a smug grin.

Joel lets go of his hold on your leg to touch your breasts with his free hand, kneading your flesh. When he teases your nipples, the sensation of it all is heightened. Within moments, you’ve reached your peak. It’s intense and the feeling lasts long as Joel, with the help of the shower head, helps you ride out your high. Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath as he points the shower head at the floor, letting you relax against him. After a minute passes, you try to lean forward to get up, but Joel stops you by wrapping his strong arm around your torso and keeping you pressed tightly against him. “Ohh, you’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not done yet,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, your temple. 

“I know, but it’s your turn.”

“Oh, not quite. We’re way past turns and bein’ square and even and all that,” he says. “Yeah, that went out the door with that little stunt you pulled on me last week. So let me spell it out for you, darlin’, I am not finished with you.”

“Joel, what are you–” Joel cuts you off by bringing the shower head back to your pussy. Reaching out for something, anything, your hand finds purchase in his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls as you tug gently. “Joel, fuck,” you pant. 

“Not goin’ easy on ya,” he warns. “S’that alright?” Your heart swells. Always the gentleman, Joel is. You nod against his cheek. “Then you stay just like this for me,” he instructs, whispering quietly against the shell of your ear, “Just like this. That’s all ya gotta do, s’real easy.” He tells you this like he’s giving you a choice, but subtly, he places his hand his back on your knee, keeping your cunt exposed to him for his use. Then Joel, realizing he has a better idea, gently pushes your leg off the bench. Potentially against his better judgment, he takes your own free hand and places it on your knee. “Be a good girl,” he murmurs, trusting you with this privilege perhaps too early in tonight’s endeavor. But he knows you, you’ve always been all bark and no bite – he’s not worried about you. Not a bit. 

“I’ll be good, Joel,” you whimper, eager to make this easier on yourself. You’ve never felt a sensation this intense before, and you know to tread carefully with Joel. Especially given what led you to this mess you’re in with him. 

Joel smirks, he’s right as always. Already you’re so docile, so well-behaved, so pliant. 

He finds your clit with the fingers of his left hand to help him with the shower head in his right hand. After finding that sweet little bundle of nerves with the jet stream, Joel traces along your lips momentarily before pushing a finger inside your warm, wet pussy. “Joel, oh my god,” your right hand leaves its place in his hair and you reach for his bicep instead, not exactly sure what your goal is here. You just need Joel’s comfort, to touch him, feel him, hold onto him for dear life as he delivers you deep and powerful pleasure just moments previously unknown to you. 

“I know sweetheart. Can’t do anything about it, huh?” he taunts, pushing in another finger. He curls them slowly, savoring the feeling of your wet heat pulsing around his knuckles. “Y’look very beautiful like this, ya know.” Joel quickens the pace of his fingers. You moan as you beg him for mercy of some sort as he fucks you on his fingers, while torturing your poor, overworked clit with that shower head. It’s sensual, satisfying, and nearly painful all at once. “Doin’ so good. I know you’ve got another one in ya.”

“I don’t know, Joel, I’m– I’m–”

“Take it easy. Focus right here,” he says, curling his fingers faster now. You’re a mess of panting and whimpering as Joel works his magic, stroking that sweet spot inside of you he made short work of finding. You’re soaking his fingers with your arousal as he touches you, a second orgasm washing over you quickly.

You’re panting, heart pounding as you try to come down from your high. “Please,” you breathe heavily, “Please Joel, I– oh–”

“Not quite sure what all that beggin’s for, sweetheart. Told ya what you were in for tonight,” Joel whispers in a honeyed voice. “You got one more, though.”

No way. It’s not possible. This is too much, you’re certain you’ll be satisfied for an eternity after this. “Joel, I don’t think I can,” you cry, hot and salty tears of overstimulation rolling down your cheeks. “I don’t–”

Joel interrupts you. “Yes, you can,” he says. Joel pulls his fingers and the shower head away from your pussy, giving you another moment to breathe. You’re still breathing heavily, shaking and trembling slightly. Poor thing, not used to all of this. It’s a lot on you and Joel knows this. “I’m right here, I got you,” he coos. He adjusts the way he’s holding you for a moment to look at your face, wipe away your tears. His brow furrows as he searches your face, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your jaw. “Breathe, baby. S’okay. Ain’t gonna break.” 

You nod, stutter out some incoherent response. Joel’s eyes are warm and soft as he calms you, kissing your lips and your nose. 

“What do you think?” he asks, “Reckon you got another one in ya. Just one more, hmm?”

“Okay,” you agree with a small smile. “Okay.” 

“Attagirl,” Joel praises. He brings the showerhead back to the space between your thighs but you catch his wrist, pulling it away from your body before he has the chance to use it on you again. 

“Want your fingers,” you request in a soft voice. “Can you just use your fingers on me?”

Joel nods. “We can try it,” he offers. “Was startin’ to get cold anyway. Why don’t you switch it back to the regular setting and put it back where it belongs?”

You nod and follow suit, playing with the settings before settling on the regular shower feature. You stand up to put the shower head back, letting the water wash over both you and Joel. On your way back to sit with him he holds your hips, steadying your shaky legs. You sit back between his legs, spreading your own. You gasp softly when Joel cautiously brings his right hand to your pussy, starting out with slow, careful circles on your clit. He groans in pain and shakes his head. “Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Mhm,” he answers. “Why don’t you help me out, hm? Use your own hand? Kind of your specialty, ain’t it?” Joel reaches for your hand and then stops suddenly. “Or,” he says, “What if we try something new?”

Oh, man. You’ve experienced a lot of firsts tonight, you’re not sure you can handle another. 

“That poor clit of yours is all worn out huh?” Joel asks. “C’mere. Turn around and face me,” Joel helps you up and then has you straddle his lap, his rock hard cock is between your bodies, the tip all blushed. “I’ve gotten pretty good at doin’ things with my left hand.”

You’re quick to retort. “Except for getting yourself off,” you tease.

“Oh, yeah. Rub it in,” he replies. He snakes his left hand back between your bodies, his middle two fingers pushing inside you. “Was thinkin’ could see how it works out. How’s this feel?” Joel curls his fingers inside of you in a repetitive come hither movement, stroking your g-spot.

“Good,” you tell him. It does feel good, if not a little unfamiliar. 

“Just focus on my fingers,” he instructs. As Joel works his fingers inside of you, you rest your forehead on his own. Breathing steadily, focusing on the feeling it stirs inside of you. It’s a new, different sort of pleasure. “Good girl,” he praises in whispers, “So good for me. You’re almost there.”

You begin to rock your hips into his hand, ignoring the way the hard material of the bench feels on your knees. Your clit is still untouched yet, here you are, that familiar feeling beginning to bloom in your tummy. Nothing’s ever made you feel the way you do right now, here in Joel’s arms. You’re liquid in his hands as your last orgasm begins to build, It’s deeper inside you, a slower build to ecstasy as Joel fucks you on his fingers.Your climax washes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your through your body. “Oh my god, Joel,” You come with gasping breaths and moans for the last time, your fluttering walls choking Joel’s fingers and your arousal pooling in his hand. 

Joel holds you tightly in his arms as you come down from your high for the last time tonight. You’re not sure how much time passes, but when you feel ready, you lift yourself up on your knees and reach for Joel’s cock, guiding him to your entrance. 

“Woah, woah–” Joel stops you. 

“You don’t have to do a thing,” you try. “Just let me–fuck. I need you, need to fuck you.”

“After all that? You still want more?”

“Wanna take care of you,” you plead. You want him so bad, need to feel him, need to be closer to him, you need to watch his face. 

Joel smiles sadly as he shakes his head. “You know I can’t give that to ya,” he strokes your cheek, continuing, “God knows I wanna feel you too, sweetheart. We can’t get ahead of ourselves with my damn shoulder and all that. Just give me a few more days, hon.”

You nod in agreement. He’s right, unfortunately. 

“And then I’m all yours,” Joel reaches for your ass and lifts you up, then sits you back down on the bench after he stands up. He stands in front of you, holding his heavy cock between his thumb and first two fingers, bouncing it slightly. “Stay right there,” he says. “You just sit all pretty-like for me, just like ya always do.” 

Joel reaches for the back of your head and guides you to be closer to him, parting your lips with the tip of his cock. He tastes salty, heady and masculine. You cup his balls and squeeze gently, playing with them for a moment before gripping the base of his dick. Joel pushes into your mouth slowly. You swirl your tongue around his tip and his shaft, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks. You love the way he tastes, how he feels, how he jerks his hips slightly when you trail your tongue along an extra sensitive spot of his member. 

“So good,” he praises, “Always so good.” 

Joel maintains eye contact with you as he draws in and out of your mouth, watching you with warm, adoring expression. He loves your eyes, how you watch him as he fucks your mouth. 

Moments go by and Joel’s squeezing his eyes shut, his movements starting to become frenzied. “M’close, hon,” he warns. You reach for his hand with your own and squeeze it a couple of times as if to tell him it’s okay, that he can let go. Joel does just that. He comes with a deep groan, his soft tummy and his chest heaving as he breathes heavily, loudly through his nose. His thick, heavy cock twitches in your mouth as ribbon after ribbon of his hot spend coats your tongue and your throat, which you swallow with pleasure. Joel lets out a strangled sort of noise when you begin to pull your mouth off of him, but first licking his head a couple of times. “Too much, too much,” he warns urgently. Interesting. He can dish it but he can’t take it. But you keep your thoughts about Joel’s overstimulation threshold to yourself. “M’not done with you sweetheart, I promise,” Joel says as he comes down from his high, his breathing now beginning to steady. “Few more days and you’re in trouble.”

Your insides flutter at the prospect, what a welcome threat. You smile as Joel takes your hand and lifts you to your feet, shuts off the shower and reaches for your towel. He helps you to dry off, then dries his own self off before helping you to your feet. Still holding your hand, he takes you to his bedroom and lifts up the covers. You get underneath and Joel tucks you in, walks around to his own side of the bed and joins you. Knowing what you need after all of this, he doesn’t bother asking before pulling you into his side, kissing your cheek and the top of your head. Holding you close and telling you what a good job you did. Making sure you’re okay, asking if you need anything, water, a snack. Whatever. “No,” you tell him before closing your eyes. 

Just as you’re drifting off to sleep, Joel whispers in your ear, “Hon.” 

“What, Joel?” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. 

“We forgot to wash my hair.”

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #lather #jet stream

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Oliver/Reader/Felix}

It had been a long time since your world has revolved around anyone but Felix Catton. He was like that; undeniably, unassumingly magnetic. You'd watched countless fawning, fairweather friends drawn into his orbit, only to be cast out when he eventually got bored of them, but not you, never you. Maybe you were a toy in the beginning, the thing they'd all called you when they were feeling especially petty, but it became clear that Felix has wanted to keep you around.

You weren't a toy, you weren't family, you were a sharp and beautiful tool, too good, too useful to be put down. Your loyalty was rewarded with a life in his shape. Felix was like the sun, and you lived your life enjoying his warmth, and wanting to keep him shining.

And there's something about the way Oliver Quick thinks and talks that you almost recognise. The others call him a toy but the look in his eyes says he's capable of so much more than that. Oliver Quick is not one to be tossed aside either, and you'll do all you can to make Felix see that too.

The three of you; head, heart, hand.

Oliver thinks. Felix feels. You do.

Need to Know: established fwb!Felix/reader, there will be smut, Oliver is a weird obsessive perv and reader recognises and is pretty into it, obviously manipulation, AU with a happy poly ending

[ IN PROGRESS ]

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty-One

Part Twenty-Two

Part Twenty-Three

Part Twenty-Four

Part Twenty-Five

Part Twenty-Six

Part Twenty-Seven

Part Twenty-Eight

Part Twenty-Nine

Part Thirty

Part Thirty-One

Part Thirty-Two

Part Thirty-Three

Part Thirty-Four

Part Thirty-Five

Part Thirty-Six

Coda

[ PLUS + ]

a long way down to the bottom of the river - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU (angst / one-shot)

never wanted anything from you (except everything you had) - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU 2 (Oliver/Reader / fluff / one-shot)

seen and not heard - Felix & Reader's First Meeting (fluff / one-shot)

all this, and love too (will ruin us) - Reader Murders Oliver For Trying To Kill Felix (Felix/Reader / angst / one-shot)

he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) // epilogue - Reader Dies At The Maze Instead Of Felix (Felix/Oliver / heavy angst / two-shot)

alone with you - Felix Won't Believe The Reader's Dead (Felix/Reader / heavy angst / one-shot)

and other things that happened by the red staircase - Felix Fingers His Cousin (humour / one-shot)

at the other end of the leash - Felix Beats The Shit Out Of Someone For Trying To Assault The Reader (hurt/comfort / one-shot)

they stare at me (and i stare at you) - CEO!Reader AU With Enemies-To-Lovers (Felix/Reader / miniseries)

love the hand that feeds you - puppy play smut (Felix/Reader/Oliver / post head, heart, hand canon / one-shot)

Ask Box Vignettes;

Reader's Family History of Wealth

Felix/Reader - Joking About The Future

Felix/Reader - Sick Day

Felix/Reader/Oliver - Attending Colin & Araminta's Wedding (Crazy Rich Asians Crossover)

AU Tags;

Vampire AU

Fae AU (ft. Demifae!Oliver)

Crazy Rich Asians Crossover

Oliver & Reader Siblings AU

CEO!Reader AU

Felix Catton's Adventures in Employment

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Unrelated Fics & Headcanons;

baby, put your back into it - {Farleigh/Reader/Oliver} - (pwp / two-shot)

Euphoria AU - (12 Years Post Saltburn Canon / dot point headcanons)

----

Other Tags;

#manic-writer; all fics

#it-shouts-back; all asks

#manicpixieart; my posts

#saltburn #felix catton x reader #oliver quick x reader #felix catton imagine #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x you #felix catton x you x oliver quick #manicpixieart #manic writer

[lady-ashfade]

What ever it takes. Pt2.

Yandere Alicent & Aemond x Sister/daughter reader. Miniseries.

What ever it takes. Part Two. Part three. Alternate ending.

Plot: Your obsessive mother and twin brother are on the hunt to find you after you had been taken. They would stop at nothing to get you back into their arms, may the seven forgive the poor souls who dare harm you.

Hope this is a good sequel- Also this is Aemonds chapter.

Word count: 1103

Taglist: @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @helloitsshitzulover @second-try-stevie @a-dorkier-book-keeper

Warnings: Yandere thrist for blood. Blood, violence, female abuse, being kidnapped and chained.  No real statement of the targaryen way of love...If you know what I mean. Mistakes, writing errors. 

It’s been a full week since you had felt the comfort of your home and you missed it deeply. You began to wonder if you would ever see it again. You missed to soft sheets on your bed and how you laid on it comfortably, you missed the gardens you walked daily and most of all you missed your family. How you could remember your mothers soft and kind embrace, holding you so dearly.

Now you had no soft place to sleep, you couldn’t walk do to the pain in your feet by the chains, no soft touch or even seeing the sun as more then a tiny hole through a crack in the wall. You didn’t know much about where you were but the men here hated you but they had not do what any normal men would do. You were thankful for that. But they had no problem hurting you and sometimes you wondered if it would be the last time and finally kill you.

Sitting on the cold stone floor you had your back against the wall to get some rest. You felt weak and so cold that everything that happened just felt like one day to you. You hadn’t had more the a small piece of dry bread in a week and they only gave you water every two days. After your time here you learned why they took you: Their boss had wanted to get gold and land for returning you which didn’t seem that smart to you.

Opening your eyes as you heard the echoes through the halls of screaming men and it panicked you. But being weak you couldn’t even move more then a inch. Maybe it was your savior, or someone who wanted you dead. Who ever it was you had to wait to use your last ounce of strength.

The smell of burnt flesh carried its way through the air as the bodies of burnt men surrounding Aemond and a man on his knees. Blood leaking onto the ground the man groaned in pain, he began and pleaded for mercy to the prince. Aemond just smirked and grabbed him by the armor he was wearing and stared right into his eyes, “You stole my sister,” he put pressure on the wound but more then it should be and the man lets out a cry. ���Let the last thing you see is my pleasured face as I feed you to my dragon.” He dragged the man and dropped him in front of vhagar.

Aemond moved out of the way and watched as his blood splatter everywhere with a sick smirk in his face. His focus the turned to walk passed the already dead bodies and into the old stone palace, he rushed through and saw no one in sight. “Y/n?!” He called out for his sister but no answer. He looked between the different hallway and he choses the one to the right and walked down the cold hallway.

He shouted again and all he heard was silents. His chest filled with guilt and the twisting thoughts stayed the same. He wanted to cover the walls in red with the blood of everyone who took you. Feeding him to his dragon or them dying by fire was a mercy kill. He hopes a few were still alive so he could make them see just who they messed with. Maybe bring a few of their body parts as a gift for his mother.

His head turned at a sound coming from the end of the hall and he rushed to the door. “Stay still.” He heard a voice from inside trying to hush someone so he opened the door quickly. Standing over a chained woman with a knife in his hands, it was her. His darling sister looked weak but still managed to use her last strength to stop the knife.

“You’re a dead man.” Before anyone could reacted the man was pulled of her and thrown on the ground. “You think you could do this.” He knocked the blade out of his hand and held him down as he tried to fight back. “My love is not someone you fuck with.” Grabbing the man’s neck he pushed down and tightened his grip to choke the man.



“She is mine. Mine to protect. And a targaryen doesn’t like to lose what’s theirs, but don’t worry my mother will know just what to do.” Grabbing the back of his head he lifted it up and smashed in into the floor. Knocking the man out he laughed. The sound coming from his stomach is a happy, evil and dark laugh. What Aemond would do to just kill the man here and now with his bare fucking hands.

“Aemond..”

The small raspy voice called out to him and he had forgotten all about his wrath and the light was brought back into him. “My darling.” He moved off the man and came to her side while lifting her up. “I am here to bring you home.” She was covered in dirt and the darkness around her eyes wasn’t what he was focused on. It was the swollen bruises and cuts on her face.

He wanted blood. He wanted to kill. He wanted revenge. 

“Seven hells.” He grabbed the chain and broke it off with the handle of his sword and it made her twitch. “Shh my love.” He tried to calm her. Once she was free of it all he picked her up into his arms. “Darling?” He looked down and her eyes fully closed and her chest barely moving.

“My prince?” A voice called from behind him again. It was one of the guards that was sent to help him but he got here first. “That man is to be brought to the dungeons and anyone else you can find. The queen wants them alive.” He walked out outside and placed her in the carriage they brought in hopes of finding her. Vhagar knew she’d have to fly home but it wasn’t that far, she was also sad she didn’t get to kill anyone else. She felt the same way her rider did about y/n. A bound shares between the two.

“You’ll be home soon.” He whispered as he kissed your head. He held you the whole way back to the castle and screamed at the driver to drive faster. He wished he could take you on vhagar but there was no way he could ensure your safety.

“I will spill more blood for you. Do what ever it takes to make sure you’re safe forever….”



#house or the dragon #yandere house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere alicent hightower #Aemond’s targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #Alicent Hightower x reader #Yandere Alicent Hightower x reader #yandere Aemond’s targaryen x reader #hotd #yandere x reader

[thesoftestirises]

raise your weapon

♡ pairing : aemond x reader ♡ rating : pg-13 in this part, 18+ for potential later parts ♡ word count : 2.3k ♡ warnings: violence, talks of d wording and k wording, and a pg 13 kiss ♡ summary : To most of Westeros, you are the dangerous leader of an antimonarchist rebellion. To Prince Aemond, you are both the bane of his existence and the object of all his desires. This is the story of your first encounter. ♡ an : i’m thinking about turning this oneshot into a smutty miniseries of what happens after aemond finally captures his white whale (aka the reader), but i’d like to see the interest level! comment/send me an ask with your thoughts if you feel strongly!

Your lungs burned. The dusty ground seemed to rise up to meet your bruised feet as you raced across the market square. You turned around to see your pursuers shoving the crowds aside and starting small skirmishes with farmers.

You weren’t sure how you’d been found. You chose Oldtown specifically because it was a large city that you had yet to visit, one where you would theoretically be able to blend in. Trying to find you should have been extremely difficult, if not impossible. Like finding a particular needle in a pile of needles. But apparently, you couldn’t even attempt to barter for eggs without sticking out like a sore thumb. It was those damnable posters the City Watch of King’s Landing had put out. They got your nose wrong, they always did, but it was clearly close enough to draw suspicion from the masses.

The City Watch had been trying to capture you for months now, but they could not move fast enough to actually get close and pose a threat. You made sure to avoid spending any more time than strictly necessary in King’s Landing, and instead moved from kingdom to kingdom haphazardly. Being outside the City Watch’s jurisdiction meant they had to spend valuable time placating the lord of whatever place you were in to allow them to question and investigate their citizens. This time, the City Watch seemed to have completely skipped the placating step and went straight to hunting you in the streets.

You took a quick glance behind you and saw a glint of bronze a few yards away. You cursed and looked around for an escape route that didn’t depend on you being able to outrun your pursuants. A few feet in front of you, a stack of boxes led up to a third story balcony with open doors. The climb seemed precarious, but you figured a fall would be safer than staring down the point of a broadsword.

You purposely knocked over two stands of tomatoes and onions, ignoring the protests of the merchants behind the stalls, and began climbing as the commotion behind you blocked the way of the guards. Once you were able to get a foothold on the balcony, you toppled the boxes behind you, hitting a few guards in the face. You smirked to yourself in satisfaction and dashed into the open flat, slamming the doors behind you.

The occupants of the room, three beautiful young ladies, stared at you in shock. You gave them a sheepish look.

“You have a lovely home,” you said as you shuffled to the exit and snatched a bottle of wine and a silk scarf off a table. “Mind if I borrow this? It’s for a good cause. Thanks!”

You swept out of the room and made your way into the hallway. You pulled the cork out of the bottle with your teeth, spitting it onto the ground and taking a swig. It was a sweet wine, one that would be a pity to waste, but you couldn’t afford to get drunk on the run. You smashed the bottle against a wall to create a makeshift weapon as you headed to the roof.

The midday sun beat against your skin relentlessly. There were no coverings, no buildings, and no people to provide shadows for you to take shelter in. Up here, you were completely exposed to the elements. And to potential enemies. You needed to find a way to get back on the ground without being followed.  

You wrapped the scarf around your neck, carefully securing it in place. Taking a deep breath, you sprinted across the roof and jumped onto the top of another building, just barely making it over the parapet. You placed your hand over your rapidly beating heart and let out a surprised laugh. Okay, you could do this.

You ran across six roofs before you finally landed on top of a building with an unlocked door you could sneak into. You lifted your scarf over your head, carefully covering your nose and mouth and headed inside.

The first thing you noticed was how unusually quiet the building was. It was only after the door slammed behind you that you realized you had walked into a trap.

“Miss Y/N,” a voice spoke.

You froze and turned around. An unfamiliar man with long, pale hair and a patch covering his right eye stood at the bottom of the narrow stairwell you were in. He was tall, broad, and hauntingly handsome. Blessed with a sharp jawline and an angular nose, it would not be an exaggeration to call the stranger the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He was dressed seemingly plainly in a white linen shirt and black breeches, perhaps not looking to draw attention to himself. But you had enough experience with the wealthy to notice the distinct lack of stains on his pristine shirt and expensive calfskin material of his boots.

This man was almost certainly nobility, and there was only one noble you knew of that donned an eyepatch. The man who stood before you was Prince Aemond Targaryen. Son of the late King Viserys and Queen Alicent Hightower. Hightower. You had made a grave miscalculation. “Prince Aemond,” you said, attempting to mask the surprise in your tone while you tried to stall for time. “You are quite far from your castle.”

An insincere, flat smile crept across the prince’s face. “Oldtown was once my mother’s home. She spoke fondly of it, but I had not the opportunity to visit it until now. I suppose I should say I’m grateful.”

You said nothing, your mind too preoccupied with attempting to calculate an escape route. Whoever had planned this ambush was meticulous in their research. There were only two viable exits. One behind you, which you knew to be locked, and one behind Prince Aemond. If you could just get around him, maybe you could find a window to climb out of.

“I think you will find getting around me to be a difficult task, indeed,” Prince Aemond said, his voice as soft and melodic as the summer wind.

“Difficult, but not impossible,” you said, pointing out his choice of words.

At that, he chuckled. “You are as clever as they say. You know, the king had the previous Commander of the City Watch replaced after he failed to capture you during the riot you started in King’s Landing two weeks ago.”

You furrowed your brows. You certainly weren’t sorry to see Ser Robert Waters go, but he had been a convenient enemy. In fact, you could probably credit Ser Waters’s ineptitude for your rise. An intelligent military official would have had enough foresight to squash your rebellion when it was just you. Now it would take a considerable amount of effort to quell the flames you had fanned.

But, you mused, it wouldn’t be impossible to douse the fires completely. And this new Commander, whoever he was, was a far greater threat than you had anticipated if he was able to catch up with you so quickly after being promoted and ensure Prince Aemond, one of the greatest swordsmen alive, was the one to trap you. You had to watch your step carefully and gather as much information as you could.

“Well, goody for all of you. Who do I send the letter of congratulations out to?”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be asking questions,” he said as he began climbing the stairs to approach you.

You took a sharp breath and steeled yourself. You already knew the only chance of escape you had was behind Aemond, and he was not going to simply allow you to pass. You would have to fight your way through him. While you did have the benefit of the high ground, Aemond was undoubtedly stronger and far more skilled at fighting than you were. Your weapons had always been your words. Besting him would take a literal miracle, but you chose to shove that thought aside. No use prematurely mourning yourself. You needed to keep your wits about you.

“Listen, I don’t want to have to fight you,” Aemond said, his expression surprisingly earnest. “If you come quietly, I’ll make sure the king doesn’t execute you for your crimes. You have my word.”

“Oh, how generous,” you said, pouting mockingly. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to pass. Rotting away in a jail cell sounds even less appealing than having my head chopped off.”

Aemond hummed at your statement as he stopped halfway up the staircase. “That can also be arranged.”

“Maybe some other time. I’m not quite ready to meet the gods yet, I’ve got some sins I need to atone for first.”

Aemond moved into a fighting stance, placing one foot on the stair in front of him. “You won’t make it past me.”

“Won’t. Can’t. Shouldn’t. Sounds like a challenge to me.”

He laughed in disbelief. “You must be mad.”

“Barking,” you said with a smile, before lunging at him.

With the element of surprise and the higher ground, you were able to use your momentum to knock the both of you down the stairs. Aemond had taken the majority of the damage, acting as your unwitting cushion as the two of you tumbled down the stone steps. When you had stopped at the first landing, Aemond hissed in annoyance underneath you and quickly dispatched you of your only weapon, throwing it against a wall and shattering the bottle into thousands of glittering green shards.

He then grabbed you by your elbows and looked at you sternly, as if he was scolding an unruly child. “I do not want to fight you, Y/N.”

“Little late for that,” you grunted before pulling back and knocking your head against his.

The move had been severely painful for you, but it had achieved its goal of getting Aemond to let go of you long enough for you to scramble away. You stood up and swayed a bit while moving into a defensive stance. Not good. You wouldn’t be able to keep going for much longer. But you couldn’t give up. Not now, not ever.

You knew why Aemond was so insistent on taking you alive. They wanted to parade you around as an example. To show off the might of the king and his army. To show that resistance was futile. If they caught you, it would be the end of you and any hope the citizens of your kingdom had of ever being free of the tyranny of feudalism.

No, your options were to live free or die fighting. Who knows, perhaps you would find even more success in martyrdom.

Aemond groaned as he slowly got up, rubbing at his temple with a frown set on his lips. “I see I underestimated you.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from,” you threatened, raising your fists in front of your face.

“Y/N, please. I’ve been trained to kill since birth. The only reason you still stand is because, as I’ve stated before, I do not wish to lay hands on you.”

“Since birth, huh? Clearly you weren’t trained very well.”

Aemond took a deep breath in and sighed. He relaxed his shoulders and looked you directly in your eyes. “Y/N. I do not want to hurt you.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You don’t want to hurt me?”

You didn’t give Aemond a second to respond before launching yourself at him again. This time, he was prepared enough to dodge your attack, sending you crashing into a wall. You screamed in frustration and turned around, looking at a passive faced Aemond with wild eyes.

“You monarchists have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t want to hurt me? You’re already hurting me! You think being hunted across the country is fun? Do you think I enjoy seeing my fellow countrymen suffer at the hands of your greed? If you want to take me, you will have to kill me. Because I will never, ever agree to come willingly.”

At that, Aemond finally drew his sword and pointed it at you. You took a shuddering breath, waiting for him to finally drive it into your heart and end you. Instead, he walked closer and closer, until your breaths mingled and you could practically taste the flavor of mint on his tongue.

“I don’t think you understand your position here. You cannot make demands of me. I promised my brother I would bring you back alive, and I shall do just that,” Aemond whispered, his gaze searing into yours.

He had you cornered. There was nowhere you could go that wouldn’t lead to his broadsword being buried in your chest. So, you did the only thing you could do.

You surged forward and smashed your mouth against his.

The kiss was anything but sweet. Your lips met in a bruising press that was more painful than pleasurable, but the unanticipated maneuver shocked him into dropping his weapon. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kicked his sword away, pulling him so close that there was not an inch of your body that wasn’t connected to his. After a tense moment, Aemond sighed into the kiss and closed his uncovered eye. He wrapped his arms around your waist and corrected the angle of his head so that your noses didn’t get in the way when he brushed his soft lips against yours.

You had been kissed before, but no one had ever made you feel the way Aemond made you feel. Sparks rushed to your head and your toes, making you feel even dizzier than falling down the stairs had. You almost forgot why you were even kissing him in the first place, until you felt his cold fingertips slip under your shirt and his tongue beginning to press against the seam of your lips. You squeaked and loosened your hold around his neck as your eyes flew open.

You made a fist and slammed it directly against his temple as hard as you could. The move didn’t knock him out like you had hoped, but it disoriented him just enough for you to make a quick escape from the prison of his arms. You grabbed the sword he had dropped and pointed it at him as you reached for the doorknob behind you.

“You’re good, but not as good as me,” you smirked. “Thanks for the sword, Aemond.”

#prince aemond x reader #aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagines #prince aemond imagines #hotd #house of the dragon #irisposts #playing with fire

[lostloveletters]

And I Lay Right Down in My Favorite Place (Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Reader)

Summary:  The Australian heat has nothing on how you feel when you finally get Hoosier to yourself.

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. Title comes from the song I Wanna Be Your Dog. This is based on the fictionalized characters in the miniseries and not the real individuals. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Light period-typical misogyny. Obviously some historical inaccuracies. Sexually explicit content including oral sex (f. receiving) and some femdom elements. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Your shadow cast abnormally long over Hoosier, his eyes scrunched shut as he slept in the rapidly setting Australian sun, curled up on his cot like a cat on a windowsill. If he had actually moved from that spot in the past few days, you would have felt bad waking him up. Except he hadn’t unless absolutely necessary, and so you attempted to disguise your selfish request as simple altruism.

“Hoosier, c’mon, we’re in Melbourne—civilization! You can’t just sleep through it. At least spend one night out so you don’t regret it.” He was unresponsive. “Please, for me?”

He snickered. “Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—I don’t have a pass.”

“I swiped an extra one. Look, everyone else ran off with some girl, and I have no one to go to bars with me tonight,” you said, stretching the truth a bit. Chuckler promised he’d look out for you in whatever little local dives you ended up in. For the most part, he had, but after a few drinks, he’d get distracted by a local girl, and you’d have to fend off equally drunk suitors without him as reliable backup.

“Fuck, alright,” he grumbled, pushing himself up from his cot, blanket still wrapped securely around his shoulders.

You shoved the dubiously acquired pass into his hand. “I just need to change, and—”

“Change?”

He stood up, the two of you staring each other down in an unspoken stand-off, waiting to see who would fold first.

“I bought a dress.”

“Don’t take too long or I’m going back to sleep.”

You ran to your cot, grabbing a paper shopping bag you’d shoved beneath it. A local boutique’s logo printed on the front, announcing your purchase of a flowing wrap dress that you couldn’t take your eyes off of in the shop. It didn’t take much convincing for you to buy it, and the unwavering confidence you felt while trying it on in the dressing room made a swift return when you ran into one of the locker rooms in the cricket stadium, changing in one of the stalls.

The plunging neckline had especially caught your attention, far from the conservative attire you’d usually wear as a Marine—though there had been strong opinions among some of the men toward your wearing pants, until Hoosier had asked them how the hell you were supposed to trek through the dense jungles in a skirt, which promptly shut most of them up. 

Still, you bought the dress knowing full well it was an impractical, expensive purchase that wouldn’t make it out of Australia with you. The slip that you wore beneath it was a buttery soft satin that you never wanted to take off, nothing short of heavenly against your skin. You didn’t have much in the way of makeup or perfume, so you’d chosen a dress and some heels that could do most of the heavy lifting for you.

Your name echoed through the empty locker room, Hoosier calling out for you as his boots smacked against the tile floor. “Hey, you in here?”

“In the stall!” you shouted back.

The tap ran along with the sound of water splashing. “You sure there’s no one else around to go with you?”

“Leckie’s playing house with some girl from the trolley the other night, Sid’s with his girl Gwen, Chuckler’s god knows where, and Runner’s got a date with the shop assistant at the boutique I bought this from, so no,” you said, securely tying the wrap dress in place. “Look, if it’s that much of a bother, you can stay.” You shuffled out of the stall, your uniform folded and shoved in the shopping bag the dress had been in. 

Hoosier whistled lowly when he saw you, quickly shaking his head. “Not while you’re wearing that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re showing about as much tit as the girls in those magazines.”

You straightened your back, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror above the sink. “That’s why I bought it.”

“It’s sure as hell working on me.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to him.

He folded his arms over his chest. “What made you think it wouldn’t?”

“You’ve seen me covered in mud and blood—I think I’ve even thrown up on you before.”

He grinned. “Gives you character.”

“So I spent my hard-earned money on this new dress for nothing?”

“Not for nothing. I wouldn't mind seeing how it looks coming off you.”

“Maybe somewhere nicer than a locker room?” you proposed.

“Now you’re gonna make me spend my hard-earned money just because you wanna fuck somewhere fancy?”

“I wanna fuck somewhere with a real bed, and privacy.”

“Sounds like you already have a place in mind.”

“I might," you said, taking his hand in your free one and leading him out of the cricket stadium.

Running down the streets of Melbourne with Hoosier sent a rush through you. Your dress flowing in the cool night breeze, the hem flirting around your thighs, each gust of wind threatening to give a peak of what lay beneath to passersby. For the first time in months, you felt like a woman, anticipation building in your gut as Hoosier kept his hand firmly around yours, bringing you closer to the night you’d been hoping for. The fact that it’d be with him was icing on the cake. Even though you were no longer relentlessly hounded for your answer of which member of H Company you would fuck if you absolutely had to—from day one, you’d pick Hoosier.

He really hadn’t been exaggerating about the dress, because when the two of you ran into Chuckler smoking outside of a bar, at least three whiskeys into his nightcap, he didn’t even recognize you. Instead, he shot a wink your way and congratulated Hoosier for ‘getting some.’ He had shouted something else your way when you and Hoosier were halfway up the street, nearing the hotel you’d seen on your shopping trip.

A tall, swanky building with valets outside, you tried not to gawk at the giant chandelier in the lobby, surely worth more than you’d make in your lifetime. You and Hoosier caught some odd glances from the people milling about, but some went out of their way to thank him. You bristled at the perceived slight until you remembered what you were wearing, your uniform hidden in the shopping bag in your hand.

A well-put together man stood behind the front desk, not bothering to pay either of you any mind until Hoosier cleared his throat.

“Good evening, sir. I’d like to book a room for one night for, uh, Lewis Juergens and guest.” 

You nudged Hoosier with your elbow.

The manager looked you and Hoosier over with his lips pursed, as if he were resisting the urge to sneer. “We don’t tend to allow unmarried couples to share a room.”

You put on a charming smile and the best imitation of an Australian accent you could muster. “Just married. We’re honeymooning while we can. Gotta keep this one in line before I hand him back to the Marines.”

“I see,” he said, neither fully convinced by your story nor concerned enough to argue. “Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Juergens for one night, then?”

“That’s right,” Hoosier said. “Honey, why don’t you wait up for me?”

You kissed him, perhaps a bit more passionately than was acceptable in such an upscale establishment, but the desire in his eyes when you pulled away to wander over to the elevator was worth it.

He grinned as he walked over to you less than a minute later, holding up the room key. “Wait ‘til Chuckler finds out he’s married.”

“To a nice Australian girl to boot,” you said, pushing the elevator button.

“Nice girls don’t kiss like that.”

“Oops.”

When the doors opened, Hoosier told the operator to bring you to the seventh floor. You caught a glimpse of the room number engraved on the key’s tag. As soon as the doors opened, you rushed down the ornate hallway in search of the room. He seemed to take his sweet time walking over, amused by the scowl on your face.

"You know, I think I might've forgotten something downstairs—"

"Hoosier, I swear to god."

He snickered as he unlocked the door, ushering you inside.

You pushed Hoosier against the door when he locked it behind him, kissing him with a ferocity that shocked him for a moment before he came to his senses. The kiss was overtaken by the desperate clashing of teeth and tongue, a long repressed primal urge rearing its ugly head as you pressed yourself against him. Before that night, you’d considered the situation you found yourself in little more than a foolish yet pleasant fantasy, doubting he wanted you as much as you wanted him. His vulgar quips toward you had blended with the others you’d gotten used to, learned to take in stride. They were all talk, anyway. The way his hands kneaded your ass through the flimsy material of your dress proved otherwise.

“How much did you spend on this?” he asked, voice husky with desire.

You threw the shopping bag aside, paying no mind to how it fell over on its side. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Five bucks?”

“Higher.”

“Ten?”

“Higher.”

“Shit, I better make this worth your while, then.”

“You will,” you said, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it ever so slightly.

Your hand half-wrapped around his neck, you pressed your thumb against the base of his throat while you sucked and bit on a patch of skin just beneath his collarbone. No one would notice unless they really looked for it, like you would over the next few days, your eyes inevitably drifting to where you staked your claim on him. 

He leaned against the door, breathing heavily while you left your mark on his skin, slightly tanned by days in the relentless tropical sun. Your hand drifted up to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing his lower lip. He took the digit in his mouth, and you gasped when he began sucking on it. 

“You’ve got everyone else fooled, you know that?” you murmured, softly kissing the corner of his lips. “Sleeping all day like you’re above it all, when you’re a bigger slut than the rest of them.” You palmed him through his pants, his hard cock straining against the fabric, earning a muffled moan from him. 

When he reached for your hips, you pulled your thumb from his mouth and grabbed his wrists just as quickly, pinning them on either side of him.

“If you want me, you gotta work for it.”

He groaned. “Jesus, you’re mean.”

“I know, but I think you like that,” you said. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered without hesitation.

You released his wrists from your grasp, kicking off your heels as you walked back to sit on the edge of the bed. “Then show me how much you want me.”

He sank to his knees before you without hesitation. He would have looked almost pious if his hands were clasped together instead of pulling your panties and stockings down to your ankles, his tongue darting out from between his lips as you spread your legs. He’d seen you before, though, not this intimately, but close enough. Privacy was a scarce resource, and so modesty packed its bags along with it. You’d conquered shame on those islands, perhaps the first woman to do so. Maybe that could be included in Lady Marines’ recruiting materials—put the church out of business, be naked and unashamed.

With a frustrated groan, you pulled off the wrap dress, hearing it tear as you were too impatient to untie it properly. The soft, patterned fabric pooled around Hoosier’s knees. He pushed your slip up around your hips, his calloused fingers drifting down between your opened legs. His rough touch electrified you, your legs seizing a bit when he started rubbing your clit with the pads of his fingers, watching intently as your face contorted in pleasure.

His hands gripped your thighs as he ducked his head between your legs, slowly dragging his tongue up your leaking slit until his lips reached your clit, sucking it while he slipped his fingers inside you. Leaning back on the bed, comforter balled up in your hands, your arms strained to support you as he ate you out, lust clouding your reason, your climax just achingly out of reach, like he was doing it on purpose.

“Don’t fucking stop,” you ordered through gritted teeth, your hand buried in his hair, keeping his face pressed against your pussy. His teeth grazed your clit, and your pussy clenched around his fingers when he flicked his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your back arched, pleasure cracking down your spine like a whip as you came with a moan that echoed in your ears. “Hoosier—Bill—oh my god—” His tongue lapped up your wetness as you rode out your orgasm on his face.

He moved back from between your legs, hair unkempt and face flushed, his mouth and chin glistening in the low light.

“I wish I had a camera,” you sighed, affectionately running your fingers through his messy hair. “You look perfect.”

“Yeah?” he asked, almost dazed.

You nodded. “Like a wet dream.”

He moved to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“Don’t,” you said, a little harsher than you intended. “I wanna see how I taste.”

When he stood up, you took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply, taking in the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips. The sensation sent an irrational, possessive urge through you, greedy for more of him, as much as he’d give you—and only you. 

“You got a condom?” you asked breathlessly against his mouth.

“If I don’t, I’m gonna kill somebody,” he grumbled, searching his pockets for one. 

Salvation in his front shirt pocket, he held one up triumphantly. 

With shaky hands, you unbuttoned his shirt, frustrated by how much he was wearing compared to you—for once. Usually you were the one overdressed, sneaking glances of envy and admiration whenever he was shirtless. He had never caught you, or at least he never let on that he had. You reveled at finally having your hands on him the way you wanted, the way that’d make you curl your hands into fists, digging your broken fingernails into your palms to distract from how frustratingly out of reach he was on those islands.

Your slip came off over your head much easier than the dress, and soon a pile of discarded clothes was kicked to the wayside as he joined you on the bed. 

You stroked his cock, his hips jerking at your touch. 

“It’s been a while,” he offered as an explanation for how his body reacted. As if he needed to, as if you weren’t on the verge of pouncing on him at that very moment.

“I don’t care. I want you inside me, Hoosier. I wanna feel you when you come.”

He groaned, chewing on his bottom lip. “Oh fuck.”

You kissed him, practically swallowing the groan that emerged from his throat when he plunged his cock inside you, your cunt clenching around him as he filled you. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, his gaze locked on your eyes as you struggled to keep them open with each thrust in your pliant pussy, taking him deeper with each stroke. 

“Fuck—I’m close,” he barely managed to force out, his cock twitching as he neared orgasm.

“I got you, baby,” you whispered, your lips soft against the shell of his ear as his thrusts slowed and became erratic as he bottomed out inside you. 

He gave you a sloppy kiss, taking a few moments to catch his breath before pulling out of you. “Fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

You curled up beneath the covers as he got up to discard the used condom.

“Jesus Christ, they’re gonna think someone tried to decapitate me,” he said from the bathroom.

“Sorry!”

“Don’t be. Maybe I can claim some rare jungle illness and get a few extra days off.”

You scoffed, smiling when he got into bed next to you, pulling you against him. “Yeah, you and every other Marine running around Melbourne.”

“Hotel room was a good call,” he said softly, nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head. “Fuck, I’m gonna be dreaming about this on the next shithole island they dump us on.” He was quiet for a moment. “Never thought that’d get me going, you bossing me around and all.”

“Something about you brought that out,” you said. “I don’t know, I feel like I’d go crazy if another woman touched you.”

“I’ll make sure to warn ‘em.”

You barked out a laugh, hiding your face in the crook of his neck before resting your head on his shoulder. “How about you? Most guys think eating out is degrading.”

“Because they’re fucking idiots.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

The two of you talked well into the night before falling asleep, only to be awoken at ten in the morning by a phone call from the front desk, informing you that if you didn’t check out within the hour, you’d be charged extra.

“Can we put it on Chuckler’s tab?” Hoosier grumbled, reluctantly getting out of bed.

“I wish,” you said, hastily freshening up in the bathroom.

“What’re you gonna do with that dress?” he asked. “Can’t take it with you.”

You shrugged, glancing at the torn, wrinkled garment. “I guess I’ll just leave it here.”

And you did, leaving it behind as you slipped out of the hotel room first. Wearing your uniform, far less comfortable than what you’d been wearing the day before, would inevitably draw unwanted attention to you and Hoosier if you left together, especially if you were seen by any number of fellow Marines who were prone to running their mouths. That, or the same haughty manager could have been behind the front desk again.

By the time Hoosier caught up with you at the cricket stadium, Chuckler was already there, sitting on your cot with you as he told you all about his escapades the night before. His attention quickly shifted to Hoosier.

“Hey, who was that cute broad you were with the other night? The one in the slinky dress?” Chuckler asked as he pulled on his boots. “Was she any good?”

Hoosier glanced at you, a smile tugging on his lips. “She was a real nympho. Tore off her dress and everything.” Your eyes widened when he held up a scrap of fabric clearly ripped from your now discarded dress. Chuckler grabbed for it, but Hoosier kept it just out of reach. “Woulda thought she was in heat or something”

You kicked his boot. 

He snickered. 

Chuckler didn’t notice the silent exchange, instead huffing out, “Man, I gotta get me a girl like that.”

“Gonna have to look somewhere else,” Hoosier said, eyes on you as he pocketed the torn piece of your dress. “This one’s mine.”

#'im gonna be normal on this blog' so basically that was a lie #bill hoosier smith x reader #hoosier smith x reader #hoosier x reader #the pacific x reader #the pacific #hoosier smith #the pacific fanfic #hbo war

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Thirsty Or Parched {1}**

Title: Thirsty or Parched? {One-Shot/Script} {1}**

Lewis Hamilton x GF Reader

Warning: Crude & Vulgar Language, Comedy, Fun & Games, NSFW toward the end, Flirtatious banter

Words: 4.9k

Summary: You and Lewis have been dating for a long time. What started as the buds of friendship blossomed to love and was now a full-fledged love tree. Both of you have never really hidden your relationship and have been very open with the public with showing how tight the bonds that bound are. This naturally has gotten everyone to love you together. Today someone had the bright idea to get you guys to do Thirsty Tweets. The twist, Lewis reads yours and you read his. What was to be a funny likkle skit, may possibly expose a lot more about your relationship than you’d intended.

Note: I had this idea and though it might not play out the way it did in my head, I decided to just run with it. Hope you guys enjoy this. Also, this is a little different format than usual. It’s in fic format but also written out like a script. Hope it’s not confusing. 😊

Note II: I am also going to be making this a miniseries with each addition being about a different celeb and their reader insert significant other.

Note III: Italicized text should be read like the actions said characters are doing, so like stage actions in a script.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lewis climbed out of the custom black and metallic blended Mercedes-Benz G-Wagon then slipped his sunglasses on as the blinding afternoon sun attacked his retinas. When he turned he found you staring at him with a mischievous smile on your face.

“Why’re you looking at me like that, dove?”

You shrugged innocently then blew an obnoxious bubble with your bright pink gum, “Can’t a girl just admire how fine her man is? Is it a crime?”

He smirked trying to keep himself in check. He loved when you expressed how good you thought he looked and loved when you called him your man even more.

“You can admire all you want,” he began, holding open the sides of his jacket so you could get an even better look. “It’s all yours after all.”

You smiled wider then scooted to the edge of the seat he’d just vacated. Your mini-skirt was already short but now it was hiked up to show the upper part of your tempting inner thigh. Licking his lips slowly, he stepped closer.

“What if looking isn’t enough? What if I wanna--,” you began and out of nowhere he felt your legs wrap around his lower body to lock behind his thighs.

The action sent him flush against you where his once peacefully resting dick now stirred from the brush of contact with the most intimate part of you.

“Touch as well as look?”

The look in your eyes spelled mischief and though he knew it he fell right into your trap. Placing his hands on your biceps, he slid his hands up and over your shoulders until they met at your neck where he clasped. The look on your face went from mischievous to surprise then intense arousal. He watched you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and his dick lurched in his jeans.

“Mmm.”

Without warning he crashed his lips to yours and kissed you, so you knew just what you were in store for when we left this studio. You moaned, wrapped your arms around his neck then sank your nails into the back of his neck. His groan vibrated across your lips, and it was then you wrapped your tongue around his, shooting his arousal up into the upper stratosphere.

When you nibbled his bottom lip hard enough to draw a little bit of blood, he had to pull your seductive succubus ass off of him. He’d meant to move his hands lower to your biceps to pull you off, but he’d jumped the gun and pulled you back with his hands still wrapped around your neck.

“Fuck baby,” you mumbled.

Your pupils were fully blown as your arousal filled you and the hypnotizing look in your beautiful eyes nearly had him sending the order for the guards to guard the car so he could scratch both of your itches. Nearly. He knew that anything under several hours would not be enough for him to fully satiate either of you.

“Fuck baby is right,” he whispered before releasing your neck. “Now I have a situation.”

You glanced down between your bodies then snorted. When he felt your hand rub against him, he groaned.

“And that’s not helping.”

He stepped back breaking the death grip that your thighs had him in. You hooked your heels on the lining of the car keeping your thighs open so he could see just what was waiting for him.

“You are evil.”

You snorted again then blew another bubble. “I would say I’m sorry but I’m not.”

He shook his head, imaging all the ways he’d make you sorry later.

“Uh—Mr. Hamilton?”

You snapped your thighs shut the same time he turned to find a woman with red curly hair standing behind him holding a clipboard and wearing a headset.

“Yes.”

“Hi, I’m Mallory. I’m one of the set handles. Welcome.”

She held out her hand for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you.”

“I’m such a huge fan. Wow,” she breathed out with a wide grin on her face and stars in her eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Uh—is Y/N with you?”

You poked your head out from the side.

“Hi!”

Coming to stand beside him, you blew another bubble and held your hand out to Mallory who eagerly shook your hand with the same stars in her eyes.

“Wow. Oh my god you’re even prettier in person,” she said.

You smiled but used your hand to cover that beautiful smile he loved so much. It was an action you did when you were embarrassed which was whenever someone complimented you.

“You’re too sweet. Thank you.”

“Ehm, wow. You guys are gorgeous together. Anyway, follow me and we’ll go inside and get you set up.”

Mallory began walking ahead, but you turned back to the G-Wagon bent in to retrieve your purse showing him your lace purple Brazilian panty-clad ass. The same lace purple panties you’d teased him with not even an hour ago as you dressed in front of him. The same purple lace panties you’d refused to allow him to touch. For the love of God, his palms itched to touch so he moved closer, and as if you could read his naughty thoughts you spun around with a smirk.

“Ah, ah, ah. No touch.”

“You ever heard the saying don’t taunt a lion?”

You shook your head. “Why not?”

“Because when they pounce, you’re bound to get hurt,” he illuminated.

You smiled innocently then leaned close. “Mmmm, you know I love it when it hurts Papi.”

With a wink you walked around him leaving him standing there struggling to get a grip on his runaway thoughts, desires, and hard dick. You knew you had him locked in and down. It was almost funny. Almost.

Within 15 minutes after you walked inside the studio management explained what would happen, touched up your makeup, and had gotten you both to do a few random shots for the website as well as the thumbnail for the video. Now as you sat behind the white desk beside one another, he’d finally calmed himself and gotten control over his hormones.

It was insane how much he’d turned into a prepubescent boy since meeting you. It was normal for couples to have a honeymoon period where they were blissfully happy and unable to keep their hands off one another. That honeymoon period was around a year, but here the two of you were 7 and ½ months shy of 5 years and this honeymoon period still hadn’t faded. He was as obsessed with you now as he was then.

“All right you guys, ready?”

The voice of the set manager brought him back to realize he’d been staring at you like a creeper. You turned to him and smiled.

“Ready?”

He nodded.

A few of the set handles around squealed then made side comments to each other about how cute it was how he looked at you. Those comments only made you smile wider. Fuck, he thought. He was a goner.

“All right here we go. 4-3-2-1.”

The set manager pointed to signal go.

Lewis: Hello internet and the world. I’m Lewis Hamilton.

Y/N: Ah, hold on. Nope. We intro you right. This is Lewis Hamilton holder of 7 world championships, 103 wins, with 192 podiums, over 7 F1 and driving awards, and one of the most amazing human beings to ever walk this planet and my boo thang!

{He smiled widely while shaking his head at your antics. You’d always been one of his biggest and loudest cheerleaders and today you were proving not a damn thing had changed} {You turned to him smiling}

Y/N: Put some respect on your name babe.

{He nodded then shrugged}

Lewis: Thank you, Dove.

Y/N: And I’m just Y/N.

Lewis: Ha! This is Y/F/N & Y/L/N, ranked one of the top 5 models in the world, the 200 million grossing in one night of her opening debut owner of the lingerie line Insatiable, the designer behind Luxe Bijoux one of the hottest jewelry lines out now, NY Times Best Selling Author, an over 160 million following fashion and beauty guru right on the tube and my beautiful dove and love.

{Your hand was covering your mouth as you tried to hide your zeal and embarrassment. Whenever he gushed like this you always felt like the fairest in the land}

Y/N: Aww, baby. Stahp It!

{The two of you giggled like floors before you rubbed noses together making everyone behind the scenes “aww”}

Y/N: Oh my goodness. Anyway. Thank you. So we’re here to do the famous--.

Lewis: Reading thirsty tweets.

Y/N: Yep. Only with a bit of a twist. I’m going to read Lewis’.

Lewis: And I’m going to read Y/N’s.

{Lewis made a yikes face at the same time you did making everyone behind the scenes crack up}

Y/N: Are you ready babes? Ready for me to read these out loud?

{Chucking} Lewis: I mean, sure. I’m not quite sure about reading yours.

Set Manager: What do you think Y/N?

Y/N: Aww, I’m sure they’re not that bad. Now yours—oh boy! Good God I don’t think I’m going to get off quite so easy, but you know what I get it cause I’m thirsty all day for this man so why not others too.

{He chuckled again because he’d seen a few over the years and had some inkling of an idea of what you were in store for}

Y/N: All right, you wanna go first?

Lewis: Okay.

{He shuffled through the large notecards that were face down on the white table and decided on the third one} {Holding it up he looked at you}

Lewis: Ready?

{You nodded}

Lewis: My, my, my, my god, @Y/F/N-Y/L/N needs to just sit on my face like right now TBH. Right damn now.

{Your eyes bugged, lips pinched, and head turned from him trying to avoid his eyes} {Him on the other hand, he just stared at the camera with an unimpressed look on his face}

Lewis: What was that you said not even a minute ago? Not that bad?

{Shaking his head he shrugged}

Lewis: Okay, @LugoSluzzoUK thanks for that. But no can do she only sits on my face.

{You gasped loudly as your hand swung out to smack his chest}

Y/N: Lewis!

{He laughed, throwing his head back}

Y/N: Wow, not funny.

Set Manager: Woah. Uh—Y/N. You’re up.

{You reached to the bottom of the pile and took a notecard out holding it up like it was the game changer of the poker game}

Y/N: Okay. I would let @lewishamilton break my back like a glow stick until I was like a slinky.

{Your eyes were again wide while Lewis laughed}

Y/N: Oh that’s funny to you.

Lewis: Just picturing it.

Y/N: Right, a glow stick until they’re like a slinky. Woooow. You know what--@ I’m not even gonna put your @ out there, just know I see you and I understand because same! Absolutely the same!

{You raised your hand in the air as if praising the lord and everyone around laughed}

Y/N: These aren’t too bad. Let’s go!

{Lewis pulled another card}

Lewis: I am pretty sure that @Y/F/N-Y/L/N’s photo spread in that Sports Illustrated issue where she was covered in body paint as bathing suits made me a lesbian. Ever since I’ve only dated women while masturbating to her at night.

{You giggled while trying to stop but being completely unable to}

Lewis: @Prettypinkjelly, I get it. I remember that issue and honestly if I were a woman I probably would have been turned too.

{You giggled some more while shaking your head}

Lewis: These are—quite interesting.

Y/N: Not so bad right?

Lewis: So far, although I feel like we’re going to start going down into debauchery soon.

{You both laughed}

Y/N: Okay. This one says. If @lewishamilton had an evil doppelganger I would let the evil doppelganger take me from the mouth while Lewis took me from behind even if they didn’t shower until they made me a double stuffed twinkie with extra filling.

Lewis: Woooooow. That’s a lot to unpack there.

{You laughed uncontrollably}

Y/N: My goodness. You guys sure are creative. Evil doppelganger, double stuffed twinkie with extra filling.

{Your eyes were wide in shock as you stared at the camera}

Lewis: It’s the “even if they didn’t shower” for me.

Set Manager: That’s where you draw the line?

Lewis: It gets very hot in the F1 suit and in the car for hours. Things get quite sweaty.

{You nodded}

Y/N: Yeah but a little sweat won’t hurt nobody.

{You winked at the camera while he pulled another card}

Lewis: Okay. For my birthday this year I have one wish and it’s for @Y/F/N-Y/L/N to come to my apartment and make me a burger, could be frozen I’m not picky, in a pair of red patent leather chaps, the ones with the ass cheeks out. That’s all tooth fairy, easter bunny, Santa, Genie, my fairy godmother, aurora’s three fairy godmothers. Please!

{The silence in the studio stretched until both you and Lewis busted out laughing. For the next minute you laughed so hard you both began crying}

Y/N: Oh my god. Not the leather chaps.

Lewis: Wow. Thank you for the laugh. The ass cheeks out huh.

{He nods his head}

Lewis: @lowkeylokiinya thank you for this because I think this just became our next roleplay night.

Y/N: Lewis!

{You hid your face, but he could see the smirk on your lips}

Y/N: We can cut this out right?

{The studio again fell quiet before he laughed}

Lewis: Your go.

Y/N: My mother always told me that my body is a temple and I agree however I just want @lewishamilton to bust the walls of this temple down!

{Lewis was the first to laugh while your eyes again remained as big as saucers}

Y/N: Wow, wow, wow. Oh wow.

{You look at Lewis who is trying his best to stop laughing but he is miserably failing. The way he is struggling makes you laugh too. After a few moments you both get a grip and sit there in silence for a few seconds}

Y/N & Lewis: Wow.

Y/N: Okay um—I think this is one of my favorites. I applaud you @ you know who you are, still not gonna put you guys on blast.

{Lewis has his next one already in hand}

Lewis: Okay, this one says, I’m not even into feet I find them creepy, but I would suck each and every single one of @Y/F/N-Y/L/N toes and not miss a single crevice. They look like they taste good.

Y/N: Oh my goodness.

{You cover your face with your hands feeling a little embarrassed}

Lewis: I’m going to assume every crevice means in between your toes too. Hmm.

{You and Lewis look at each other speaking nonverbally. He smiles and nods}

Lewis: All right @nuthinbutacomedian thank you for that.

{Lewis’ jaw is clenched, and you notice and go to his ear and in a whisper ask if he’s all right. Lewis brushes it off and assures you that he is good and drives it home with a sweet kiss to your temple which makes those behind the camera and on set “aww” yet again}

Y/N: Anyway, this is says, @LewisHamilton looks like he has a really long dick.

{Your eyes bug and jaw drops while Lewis pinches his lips together while keeping his eyes frontward}

Y/N: Um—uh—well you know something--.

Lewis: Don’t you do it.

Y/N: Looks are not deceiving. We have all seen him in his race suit.

Lewis: Y/N!

{You pinch your lips then zip them while pretending to throw away the key}

Lewis: Christ, you’re going to get me in so much trouble.

{You lift your hands in the air as it to show you mean no harm and that you’re done but he doesn’t look like he believes you. You look to the camera, smile then wink}

Lewis: These are getting quite--explicit.

Set Manager: If you can believe there are much more explicit than this out there.

Y/N: I believe it. Thirst makes the world go round, plus look at this guy.

{You cup his jaw and squish his cheeks making his lips pout}

Y/N: I thirst over him every day.

{Lewis’ smile is small at first but then widens until he is full-on cheesing}

Lewis: Enough. All right, let’s see. @Y/F/N-Y/L/N I just want you to know that if you ever need to fill your prescription for vitamin D I got more than enough D to give.

{Without meaning to you bust out laughing. In a matter of seconds, you’re practically cackling}

Y/N: Oh my god. No way! Yo, that is creative is hell. I have to applaud that one.

{You begin clapping with a look of amazement. Lewis on the other hand does not look amused.}

Y/N: How the hell do you guys come up with these?

Lewis: I kind of want to know too.

Y.N: Right!

Lewis: However @MegsstallionBrotha she’s gonna pass.

Y/N: Am I? Why?

{Lewis looks at you, meeting the playful challenge in your eyes}

Lewis: Why? I think you’re getting all the vitamin D you can handle. No?

Y/N: Am I? I am quite low in the vitamin today thanks to someone.

{Lewis laughs and shakes his head}

Lewis: Oh ho-ho keep talking.

{You giggle as you sift through the remaining note cards searching for your next one to read}

Y/N: @LewisHamilton, if you see this just know I want to use your…cum as a…face mask.

{Your eyes are wide as you blink rapidly for a few moments}

Lewis: Wow.

Y/N: I have to read that again.

{You read it to yourself then bob your head from side to side}

Y/N: I think this could have been worse.

Lewis: Do you?

Y/N: Yes. Think about it. Cu—sperm is pretty much protein, which is similar to the whites of eggs. It’s like making an at-home mask with egg whites which is actually good for the skin and pores, it helps with collagen and firming.

{Everyone is shocked silent staring at you}

Y/N: Just a bit of science there. So if you’re out of egg whites use a little cum, same thing.

{Everyone laughs loudly at that}

Lewis: So you’ve walked around with my sperm on your face?

Y/N: I don’t know about walking, but have I gotten your sperm on my—

{Lewis clamps his hand over your mouth shutting you up}

Lewis: Keep talking. You’re getting so close.

{You laugh but he doesn’t lower his hand until you’ve simmered down}

Y/N: Em, @ person—no judgement.

Lewis: I would let @Y/F/N-Y/L/N dom and peg me if she wanted and say thank you master after she’d ruined all my holes.

{You smile at the camera while managing to not give any other reaction}

Lewis: Woah, that’s a lot of trust there.

Y/N: I think I’d make a wonderful dominatrix. Right? Imagine me all red sexy leather, super high stilettos, fresh pedicure, fishnet stockings, a sexy feather and leather whip, decked out in diamond jewelry and skimpy lingerie.

{Lewis clears his throat loudly and readjusts himself in his seat}

Y/N: You all right?

Lewis: Yep. Let’s move on.

{You smile to yourself knowing what happened, you unintentionally turned him on with the talk of your attire. You know he is more imagining him being the dom and you the sub. The control freak in him would have the hardest time letting you take control.}

Y/N: @ person thank you for this, and again, no judgement. Sounds like fun.

{There is laughter from those around the set}

Y/N: I would let @LewisHamilton rearrange my guts in alphabetical order and then out of alphabetical order any day of the week.

{Lewis snorts and drops his head back as he laughs}

Lewis: Like, what does that even mean?

Y/N: It means any time, any day, any way they’re DTF. You know what @ you, you're a clever soul. Amen!

{You hold your hand high and shake your head fully grasping the sentiment}

Set Manager: Same for you Y/N?

Y/N: Do you have to ask?

{You giggle and that giggle turns to a full-on laugh when you realize Lewis looks very unamused but in his eyes, you see how turned on you have him}

Set Manager: Looks like we’re down to the last one.

Lewis: Yep.

{He waves it in the air}

Lewis: I kind of feel like I need to prep myself. It would be safe to say this might be the thirstiest.

Y/N: I’m sure it can’t be that bad.

{Lewis breathes once more}

Lewis: @Y/F/N-Y/L/N the things I would do to you if I had the chance. Mainly I want to suck your soul from what I know is a gorgeous kat until you squirt all over me to baptize and save me like the Goddess you are.

{Lewis slow sighs out.}

Lewis: There’s a lot going on there. @yourloveisunholy that answers a lot, um—again she’ll pass.

Y/N: Um—I love your name by the way. I appreciate the compliment you are right it is a gorgeous—

Lewis: Keep talking.

{You laugh because at this point you are having the time of your life teasing him}

Lewis: You are so asking for it.

Y/N: He’s right I will have to pass. I need my soul.

Lewis: That’s it?

Y/N: Until the next time @LewisHamilton decides to suck—

{Again Lewis clamps his hand over your mouth making you laugh}

Lewis: Please just read your tweet.

Y/N: @LewisHamilton come and get this face sit zaddy, I know how to ride. Then dick me down so fucking hard that my ancestors get phantom pains. Oh my god!

{You jump to your feet and raise your hands in the air}

Y/N: Winner, Winner! Wow, wow, wow, wow! I am speechless. You know what I am here for this! Period! I feel you on that face sitting part because this man’s face is meant to be sat on.

Lewis: And we’re done here. Thank you Buzzfeed, this has been thirty tweets, couples edition. See ya!

{Your laughter had turned to a cackle at this point. You’d watched him slowly decline in his ability to keep himself restrained. You knew how on edge he was because of the tease in the car, and this was complete comedy for you.}

Everyone behind the scenes clapped then told you guys how great the episode will be online. Lewis was already standing ready to go. It wouldn’t be that easy for him though because everyone seemed to want pictures and an autograph and him being the gracious man he is, he signed an autograph for everyone while letting them get their pictures in.

After about 30 minutes or so, you said your goodbyes after the set manager informed you that the episode was going live in a few hours. You then made your way back to your car. Lewis opened your door then went around to climb in beside you. The whole time he didn’t speak. He didn’t speak when your driver put the car in drive. He didn’t speak the 30-minute drive to lunch. The only way you knew that he wasn’t upset was because you caught him staring at you several times and the way he was staring instantly told you he was far from upset and more on the horny side.

After lunch, you split up to tackle some work errands while making a promise to meet up at home. Lewis kept the kiss quick though you tried to delve your tongue into his mouth. Halfway to your meeting, you texted him.

MSG: You know, most would say you’ve been neglecting me since we left Buzzfeed. They would also say their feelings were hurt.

You expected him to take a while to answer but to your surprise, a response came in after about 2 minutes.

MSGMyHoneyDrop: To that, I would say you’re being dramatic.

MSG: Anyone ever tell you it’s not a good idea to tell a woman she is being dramatic?

MSGMyHoneyDrop: Yes, you. I’m just trying to make it through the day without anyone noticing how hard I am, and without letting blue balls set in.

You shouldn’t have laughed but you did.

MSG: How are you hard? Those tweets do it for you?

MSGMyHoneyDrop: Nope. You do it for me and you know that. Another thing you should know is your ass is mine when I get home. I don’t care what you have to do but you need to find that red leather outfit and you better have it on when I get home.

Excitement filled you quicker than shaken soda spouting through a bottle. You squealed with anticipation.

Much later that night after round 6, you and Lewis lay sweaty, panting, and sex drunk reading through the comments from the Buzzfeed video.

“Someone said I knew Lewis and Y/N were a pair of freaks in the sheets but damn they’re freaks in the streets too.”

You snorted then laughed, handing him a bottle of infused water. While taking a few sips you scrolled through the endless comments. It was clear the video was a hit. In not even 24 hours it had over 13 million views.

“Oh my god. This person said, you can see how much they love each other and how connected they are. #goals. Aww. That’s sweet.”

“Watching Y/N and Lewis read thirsty tweets while they’re being thirsty for one another is a whole mood.”

You rolled on top of him sitting right on top of his still hard member.

“Mmm.”

“Still hard?”

“You only have yourself to blame,” Lewis said trailing his hands along your red fishnet stocking clad thighs.

“You’re the one who wanted me to wear this. I think you did it to yourself.”

Lewis gripped your hips then moved you back just a little before he lifted you just enough so he could slide inside of you.

“Fuck!”

The friction gave way to slight soreness and reminded you that you’d been at this for hours and were already thoroughly fucked.

“Still so tight. I can’t get enough of you, sweetheart.”

The fullness you felt made it impossible to remain still, so you slowly rocked back and forth on him until you were bucking against him riding him just the way he liked. Lewis’ moans turned to grunts and before you knew it he’d flipped you onto your stomach while keeping your ass in the air.

“Such a perfect ass!”

To emphasize, Lewis slapped you across it making you shout into the blankets underneath you. From his strokes, you could tell he was close but from the way he groaned you could also tell he didn’t like the fact that he was losing control this quickly. When he tried to move you to change your position, you refused then took control from him and backed yourself onto him slamming your ass into his pelvis.

“Aah, shit,” Lewis exclaimed.

Peeping over your shoulder you saw your sopping core held his attention while his hands were planted on his head. You began flicking your hips raising your backside up and down giving him a show that you knew would mesmerize him. It didn’t take long for him to grip your hips and plow into you with reckless abandon.

“Do you love me, Y/N?”

“I do.”

“Lemme hear.”

“Ah! Fuck Lewis. I love you!”

You bit the blankets, filling your mouth with the soft fluffy material, and let yourself moan as you wished. Lewis gripped the back of your neck and hoisted you up until your back was pressed to his chest and your moans filled the room.

“Mmm, look at me.”

Locking eyes with him, you tried not to roll them to the back of your head from the deepness of his strokes.

“I fucking love you too!”

Lewis kissed you sloppily then you felt him fill you for the 7th time that night. His arms wrapped around you as your bodies shook together riding your shared orgasm. When he collapsed on top of you he didn’t release you, he kept you cocooned in his arms and his cock nestled inside of you.

“We’re never going to be able to live down that fucking episode.”

You snorted then laughed loudly because he was right. You’d both let it slip to the world how utterly and completely horny and parched you were for each other while giving them a glimpse of just how freaky you might be. There was no way the internet would ever let you forget it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

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@majx00 @bbhyuneee @queenanababy @ravenqueen27 @multi-fandom5 @xsweetdellzx @bqueensweet @misswolff @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @blveeeeeee @majx00 @rowansshit @tian-monique

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #thirsty or parched series #thirsty tweets

[authurials]

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . the gods have seen fit to punish you by way of the child you carry

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 . @holy-minseok​

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations, references to stillbirths, traumatic birthing experiences, slight gore, blood, and violence, heavy angst, no happy ending

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . so this request was mostly in reference to king maegor and his wife, alys. i haven’t really written things like childbirth, particularly of this nature, before so i hope i did it somewhat justice. after this, i’ll be pushing out the second (and final) part to the weight of this heart before tackling a longer house of the dragon piece over on ao3--it’ll be a full length fic instead of just a one-shot or miniseries. any guesses on who it’s for? as always, remember to like, comment and reblog if you enjoy reading! do not repost/claim as your own please

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 you lost a child of yours and Daemon’s, the maester told you that these things happen; these things–as if the cold and bloody body of the babe they’d laid upon your heaving chest was a mere accident, an inconvenience. The babe had not felt like an inconvenience to you, it felt like a hot poker to the chest–shoved in deep, twisted until you felt like you couldn’t breathe. At least you’re alive, the maester and others–Daemon even–would say to you; soft words whispered to you in the dimly lit space of your chamber as hands pulled up the weight of a blanket over your body, taste of milk of the poppy lingering on your tongue.

The first child you lost had been a girl; you named her Daella.

The second time you lost a child of yours and Daemon’s, it felt less like a hot poker and more like a dull sting. You wept for this babe as you had for Daella, kept them close to your chest until Daemon pried your blood stained fingers from their tiny body. Yet, when the sun rose on the third day of your vigil, you did not allow yourself to suffocate in your grief as you had done before. You instead joined Daemon’s side as you laid your second child to rest beside the first, hands gripping each other tight as you promised this would be the last one.

The second child you lost had also been a girl; you named her Viserra.

The third child you lost was not Daemon’s at all, instead they were of a seed planted by one of your lovers–of which one you were never sure. The child had come out as faceless as their father, an amalgamation of parts that resembled a baby and yet were not. You saw it as a curse, a punishment from the Seven for what you had done to Daemon, though it was nothing he had not done to you before. And yet, as you stared at the deformed face of the third babe, it was you alone who bore the punishment even as Daemon believed this one to be his as well.

The third child was neither girl nor boy; you named them Derion all the same.

Before, you had wanted nothing more than a child, if only to have a more tangible tie to Daemon. You were not his wife, though you had been there through them all: Rhea, and Laena, and now Rhaenyra. Any child born from you Daemon would’ve gladly claimed though, especially if it had been a boy–politics of the court be damned. Yet, the loss of your three children had soured you on the idea of motherhood, and as of late you were beginning to believe you were not really meant to be a mother. Which only made the weight of your fourth pregnancy feel all the more heavy as the birth drew closer and closer.

“It’s a boy,” Daemon spoke in hushed excitement, kneeling beside your bed as you rested. Your fingers were entwined on the bare flesh of your stomach, skin smoothing over the angry purple lines of a belly stretched too big. “I just know it.”

“And if it is a girl?” You asked teasingly, though there was no real enthusiasm behind the light-hearted jab. You cared not if it was a boy or girl, just that soon they would be out of you and once again you’d be free to do as you pleased; ever since he had found out you were pregnant, Daemon had hovered like the dragon he was, ensuring you put no strain or stress on yourself. His near proximity did not allow for you to sneak off as easily as you had in the past, though it was not from lack of trying.

“Then we will simply have to try again,” Daemon chuckled, lifting your hand to press a kiss to it. You regarded him with tired eyes, the curve of your lip feeling heavy and fake, and not for the first time you wondered where the love you had felt for him had gone. It was still there, dull and throbbing like a healing wound, but it was different now than when you were young and he first took you. You had been nothing, a nameless girl of a nameless house, yet Daemon had seen something in you and from there your life had been forever changed.

Did he still love you? Or were you both simply holding on to something that had been long dead and buried with the children you had lost?

“What if we are to lose this one as well?” you found yourself whispering, eyes lowering from his gaze to the swell of your stomach. “I grow tired of trying, Daemon.”

“Do not speak of such things,” Daemon urged you, hand coming up to cup your chin so he could turn you to look at him. “This baby will live, we will have our son–I can feel it.”

For a moment, you just stared into his pale eyes, feeling the pad of his thumb brush across your bottom lip as he stared back intensely. All you could bring yourself to do was nod in agreement, ignoring the pounding of your fearful heart. In his eyes, you had seen something hungry and desperate, something that struck fear into the very core of you.

“Now, rest,” Daemon broke the unsettling silence, leaning in to press a kiss first to the crown of your head and then to your lips, all the while his hand resting on your stomach–as if he could will this baby to live, to be a boy. “I will come back later with dinner.”

Without another word, he stood and left you with what he had said, your own hand subconsciously finding your stomach. You rested it there as you waited, waiting for any sign that the babe within was strong and healthy, as if you–like Daemon–could change their fate with a single touch.

Only three more days would pass until you found yourself once more in the birthing bed, the sweat on your brow being dabbed away by a serving girl whose name you couldn’t recall as another wave of pain washed over you. Grasping the sheets in tight fists, you grunted as you tried not to push until the midwives and maester told you to. One of the former had left moments before to fetch Daemon when it looked like the babe could not be swayed to wait. They were coming early this time, similar to when you had Viserra, a parallel you did not let yourself dwell on for too long as you fell back into the bed in exhaustion.

“I-I can’t….” you panted. “Please, I can’t….not again-”

“You can, my lady,” the maester interjected from his place on the side opposite of the serving girl, “and you must. The midwives and I will do everything to ensure that this baby and you live but-”

“But if you must, will you cut it out of me?” you laughed breathlessly. “As King Viserys did to Queen Aemma?”

“I would never allow that to happen,” a new voice stated. Turning your head, you watched Daemon walk through the door of the chamber, a flustered midwife close behind him as she rejoined the others.

Kneeling beside you, Daemon took your hand, pressing a kiss to it as he peered into your pained eyes. Groaning, your heels dug into the bed as you fought the urge to push, the waves becoming increasingly more painful and close together.

“If you must choose between her and the babe,” Daemon spoke, eyes flicking up to the maester, “then you will do everything in your power to ensure she lives, understand?”

“Daemon-” you beseeched, pulling your hand from his.

“We can try for another babe,” he interrupted, peering between you and the maester, “there is no other you, my darling.”

“We will do what we can, my prince,” the midwife at the bottom of the bed between your legs spoke quietly.

“You will do better than that,” Daemon replied, a bite to his voice as he held the maester’s gaze. “Understand?”

“Yes, Prince Daemon,” the maester bowed his head, face paling under the glare of a dragon.

The birthing pushed on as day steadily turned into night, and unlike the first three times you had given birth, Daemon never left your side. After a while you feared the baby would never come, that they were doomed to stay inside of you forever, to die and fester until you succumbed to their rotting corpse. The mere thought made you delirious, you became detached from reality as you begged them to get the baby out. Your cries fell on deaf ears as the midwives took turns at your side and in between your legs, wiping away your sweat and tears as they whispered words of reassurance. There was no consoling you, not even Daemon’s presence as he once again gripped your hand and encouraged you to push.

“You’re doing great, my love,” he spoke, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re almost there.”

“Please,” you gasped, turning your tear stained face towards his, “ please, Daemon–get it out of me!”

“I can see the head,” a midwife spoke loudly over your distressed pleas. “You’re almost there–just a few more pushes, my lady!”

“Did you hear that?” Daemon smiled, stroking your damp hair away from your flushed face. “They’re almost out, our baby….our son.”

He looked so happy, so hopeful, and all you could muster up was an ache of resentment as you gave another grueling push. If he wanted a son so bad, why could he not put one into that wife of his? Any son born of you and him would be a bastard, no matter if Daemon claimed them or not; you were his consort after all, no better than a whore in the eyes of the royal court.

There were many more pushes to come as night drew on, the sky darkening to an angry bluish purple and it was only when the sun threatened to rise once more that you finally heard the first cries of the child. You felt them pulled from your body as you gave one final push, a cry of relief leaving you as you once again felt blissfully empty. Lost in your own euphoria, it took a moment to realize that the wails that preceded your child’s birth weren’t that of the babe alone but also that of the midwife which held them.

“What is it?” a voice demanded, and you felt the shifting of the bed as Daemon left your side quickly.

“Daemon?” You croaked out weakly, hand seeking him until you realized it was him that had spoken, and it was him now at the foot of the bed, taking the babe from the trembling midwife’s arms. “Daemon, what’s wrong?”

“Fuck the Seven….” you heard someone–most likely Daemon–mutter.

“What’s wrong?” You asked again, trying to lift yourself up but your attempts were futile. All strength left your body as you collapsed, still feeling the pulse of blood leaving your body.

“Let me see the babe,” the maester spoke as the midwives came to your aid, beginning to clean you up, but you could see the distress in your eyes.

“What?” You asked, looking between all of them, fear taking hold of you. Again, you could hear the weak cries of your babe–so they were still alive. “Why can’t I see my baby? Daemon-”

“Quiet,” the maester spoke loudly. A wave of silence soon fell over the room, the midwives working quietly as the maester and Daemon tended to the baby. You tried, with no avail, to rest yourself from the doting hands of the women and go see the child. Yet, it was futile, and eventually after so many unanswered prayers, you fell back into the bed.

Like your own, the child’s cries had long since stopped and you feared that like the others they had not made it. Those fears were only confirmed when you saw the grim look the maester gave Daemon, and Daemon in turn turned his attention to you. You were surprised to find the anger there, in his eyes and between his brows where the skin furrowed in barely contained rage. Before you could open your mouth to speak, Daemon spat out:

“Leave us.”

The midwives stilled in their movements, looking first at each other and then at him; one of them cleared their throat:

“My prince, we must-”

“Your prince has told you to leave!” Daemon shouted, causing everyone–including yourself–to flinch.

Without another word, the women collected what they could quickly before departing the chambers, leaving only you, Daemon, and the maester in the increasingly oppressive space. Fearful of the look in your lover’s eyes, you dragged yourself up to lean against the mound of pillows. As you did, you watched as Daemon gently took the still body of the babe into the cradle of his arms; the gesture was polarizing to the deadly set of his jaw as he looked up at you once more.

“Daemon-” You began, but stopped to wet your lips. “Daemon, what is wrong, my love?”

“I do not wish to hear your voice right now,” he spoke through clenched teeth, eyes lowering to look at the bundle in his arms; from your position you could barely make out the hint of pale hair atop the babe’s head. “The maester has informed me that the child is–was a boy.”

You gasped, tears once more pricking your eyes as your fears were confirmed, “oh, Daemon-”

“Do not speak,” he surprised you by shouting. “The maester has also informed me that this could only be the punishment of the gods–upon you.”

“What?” You frowned, weakly trying to sit up once more. “Daemon, what are you talking about?”

“Shall I show you then?” He barked, a crazed look in his eyes as walked over to you with your son. “Shall I show you what you have done to our son?”

Pressing further into the pillows and away from Daemon, you let out a cry as he finally lowered the blankets in his arms to reveal the child. Like your others, he was so small and pale, still covered in the red viscera of your womb. Unlike the others, the sockets where his eyes should have been, were hollow and bare, still bleeding. Letting out a pained sob, you tried to look away but Daemon would not let you, using his free hand to grip your face tightly and make you look.

“You did this! You did this to my son!” He cried out, tears of his own falling from his eyes as his hold on you became bruising. Jerking away from him, you fell to your side in the bed with a pained cry. Shaking, you looked over your shoulder as Daemon now turned away from you, cradling his son close to his chest as he stalked back towards the maester.

“Tell her,” Daemon demanded. “Tell her, what you told me.”

“There have been…murmurs,” the maester cleared his throat, pale and shaking like you as he stood under the scrutiny of the mad prince.  “Murmurs of other lovers, of other seeds planted in the past; though this child is obviously a Targaryen, it is apparent the gods have seen fit to take his eyes as punishment for the affairs; such as they did with King Maegor’s son.”

“No….” you whispered weakly. “No, Daemon I promise–”

“I always knew,” Daemon spat out with venom. “I always knew that there were others, ever since the last one, but I allowed them because….because I loved you. And where has it gotten me? My son is dead! You have killed our son….”

“Daemon, please-” you pleaded with him, pushing yourself up. “We can have another-”

“There will be no others,” Daemon interrupted, his face growing dark. “I will not allow for more of my children to suffer, not as this one has.”

He looked down at the bundle in his arm, uncannily his expression was numb–stagnant as if he had not been crying over the body moments before. Quietly, he laid the babe in the crib the midwives had prepared, and as he did he spoke:

“You may leave us now maester,” Daemon hummed. “I will come speak with you later.”

“If you are certain, my prince,” the maester spoke, eying you warily as you clung to the sheets of the bed.

“I am certain,” Daemon replied. “Leave us now.”

Bowing his head, the maester left without another word, the door closing behind him and leaving you with Daemon and your son. For a moment, neither of you said anything, and as you stared at his back bent over the crib the fear inside of you dwindled and the grief took over. Tears in your eyes, you reached out a hand, lips dry and cracked you sobbed:

“Daemon….”

Silence. You feared he would not heed your plea as you said his name again; once, twice–finally he stood up, and turned to look at you. Wrapped in the blood stained sheets of the birthing bed, you lifted your hand once more for him to take. You could not discern his expression as he slowly made his way over to you, taking your hand as he finally sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your body. Pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck, you began to sob, hands gripping the fabric of his tunic.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke breathlessly. “I did not mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know,” he replied, tone even as his hand came up to stroke your hair. “I know you did not.”

“I will give you another,” you sniffled, body relaxing into the familiar warmth of his. “I will give you another son and it will be different.”

“Will it?” He hummed, lips pressing into the skin of your forehead, hands shifting down from your hair to your shoulders and then up again to the line of your jaw. “Because I do think it will.”

Frowning, you pulled away to look into his eyes just as his grip tightened on your face: “Daemon?”

Wincing, you tried to pull away, but he stopped you by pressing your body back into the bed with his weight. On top of you now, his fingers gripped the flesh of your cheek as he forced you to still and look at him. There was nothing in his eyes any longer, they were numb and void, as empty as the sockets of your son in the crib.

“Dae-” You tried to speak, hands coming up to grip his wrists. “Daemon, you’re hurting me. Please-”

“I’m sorry,” he bit out, thumbs dragging over the plains of your cheekbones and into the bone under each eye. Gasping, you tried to pull your head away, but Daemon merely followed, thumbs pushing now into the sockets–deeper and deeper. Your cries filled the room as you kicked and flailed, trying to buck him off of you as he continued to say how sorry he was.

This was the only way, the only retribution he saw fit–an eye for an eye.

Blood burst forth from your eyes as he jammed his thumbs in one final time, burying them deep and keeping them there as your cries of pain crescendoed before abruptly cutting off. Your body twitched under his, clinging to the last remnants of life as he stayed atop of you. Only when you finally lay still did he slip off, but he did not leave the bed, instead he laid the length of his body against yours; his arm came up to lay over your belly as he tucked his face into your wet neck, blood falling from the gaping holes where your eyes used to be and sliding down your face into the paleness of his hair.

The fourth and final child you and Daemon lost was a boy; he was never given a name.

#˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 : #house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen one shot

[rokuhoku]

"... are you pouting?"

Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader

Rating: General Audiences, Comedy

Summary: Namor waits by your usual meeting place... except this time you don't show up. And for the following days, you fail to show up again, causing your friend to feel greatly unnerved.

Word Count: 3,552

Content Warning: None

Disclaimer: Again, as mentioned before, Namor is slightly cold towards the reader! He isnt hateful or anything, just has his guard up bc of surface world resentment. Though, that guard can be taken back down sometimes ;)

__________

Reminder: This fic is part of a Namor x Filipino!Reader miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):

a piece of your history. / "beloved." /

"... are you pouting?"

__________



“I always go here before the sun sets, the view gets really good, you know? Pero wala pa rin siya sa Pinas, ang init dun, shet.” 

You stated, though what you said only seemingly fell on deaf ears. Namor continued looking ahead, not showing any signs that he was actively listening. Nonetheless, you smiled, staring back at the ocean, just as he was. 

“Yung tipong parang niluluto ka na nung araw kada labas mo.” You laughed to yourself, and Namor’s lips twitched upwards for a split second.

The golden hues shining on your skin wasn’t as scorching as it was in your country, however. You mused to yourself. Your hands splashed a bit in the water, as you were in it with him this time, making sure to wear something waterproof.

Was it a dumb idea to be in the same environment as someone who could kill you in an instant? Probably. But it was a particularly hot day out and you will be damned if you don’t take a dip in the water.

“So when you come up here to…” Your lips pursed, and a part of Namor disliked your hesitation. “... meet up. Make sure to not make it so late? I don’t like waiting until night time. Baka magtaka kaibigan ko tas masampal pa’ko pag nakauwi ako ng sobrang late na, hehe.” 

Namor would’ve scoffed if he could, it was as if you were demanding him to attend these meetups that weren’t even mandatory. It did not benefit him nor you in any way to keep meeting up like this.

And yet.

He still always managed to come on time. 

Just as how it is right now.

Namor’s eyes scanned the area from where he was in the deeper parts of the water. You weren’t here yet, which was particularly strange for him. You always managed to get here a few moments after noon, so seeing your regular spot empty was somewhat foreign to him, having spent so much time with you.

He frowned, this was peculiar. You were always there to greet him with an enthusiastic smile and wave, sometimes with a book in your hands or with the soft tunes of your native tongue in the air. Today, however, none of those were present on the land he often frequented.

Had something come up? You would usually tell him the day before if you were not able to come by, though he would often reply with nothing or just a silent nod. He did not know why, but his stomach seemed to turn in on itself as he anticipated you to walk in any moment now.

Namor waited with bated breaths while he stared down your usual spot, as if you would materialize there in any moment. He waited for you to walk in with a laugh, pointing at the way his head would stick out of the water. He waited for the sound of your home country’s tunes, or the sound of your voice humming quietly as you would set down a blanket of sorts to sit on, because you hated the feeling of sand in your clothes.

He waited. 

Namor paused in his thoughts. Why was he overthinking this? An earlier, not so distant past version of him would have felt relieved to not see your face, to not see the face that was somehow capable of flipping his whole worldviews upside down, who challenged yet understood his worldviews.

The blue hues of the sky soon faded into a colorful mixture of yellow, orange, and purple. Yet there was still no sign of you, causing Namor to slowly feel quite dumb for waiting in the water for as long as he did.

He should just go back, his mind would reason with him. Manage over the people, protect your land, protect your people.

Namor’s lips twitched downwards as the scenery around him already darkened, the sun disappearing over the horizon, and still no sign of you.

He wistfully sighed and turned back around to head for his home, it was not fair of him to expect you to always attend these daily meetups of yours. He, for one, has been guilty of not attending these meetups and just leaving you in the dusk. So of course, he should not have expected punctuality from you when he himself did not even do it.

The familiar heavier pressure of the waves underwater enveloped Namor’s body, as did the feeling of... disappointment.

~~~

The following day, Namor made sure to come a bit earlier, justifying that this time he would leave earlier instead. When in reality, the back of his mind had been telling him that he should try to make up for the lost time from yesterday. 

Your usual spot had still been empty, with no evidence of you by a blanket or bag in sight. The sky wasn’t clear this time, as if the clouds were accompanying Namor in your absence. This time, his head was fully out of the water instead of the upper half just peeking out, so he could get a good look from his position to the whole beach.

His eyes desperately searched the area, his ears twitching in hopes of hearing your familiar mischievous laugh, his hands twitching within the water as he remembered the few times it had brushed with yours.

Namor’s actions of today echoed those of yesterday, yet now with a slight hint of more desperation and anticipation. It felt foreign not to see your face, the way it somehow always managed to trick his lips into smiling more and more as the hours would go by.

This hadn’t even been the first time he hadn’t seen you for days at a time, yet those were by his terms. Now, it was you deliberately not meeting up with him, and it somehow affected him quite a bit.

Namor’s thoughts recalled those of his yesterday, as he is reminded with the various times he would just not show up for days at a time, and yet you were always there to welcome him with a laugh and a wave. Sometimes, you would even come with a mango in hand that you claimed to be superior to the rest as it had come from your home country specifically.

He should not feel bad. His mind would reason. He is the one tasked to lead and protect his people. It continued. He had duties. Of course he wouldn’t always be available. Namor knew that, and he was sure that you did too.

And yet, the multiple times of Namor not even showing up seemed to have weighed heavily upon his shoulders as he returned once more to Talokan, the sky already turning dark.

~~~

As the days went by, the feeling seemed to only grow heavier and heavier, as he felt somewhat more and more anxious and impatient to see you, desperate to listen and reply to your various musings about the most mundane things.

The people of Talokan could somewhat feel the disappointment and loneliness haunting their king as he went on his usual strolls about their kingdom. 

The king thought he was subtle, but almost everyone knew of his escapades, often disappearing into the shallower parts of the water. But no one had the heart to tell or stop him, seeing as he always seemed to be in a better mood, his smiles being gentler and brighter whenever he visited their various homes. 

Their king had a sort of bounce to the way he traveled the waters, and this feeling seemed to travel and spread with his people, as children were joyfully laughing, playing and running by him.

Yet now, the king seemed to wear a sullen expression, his eyebrows pushed down, furrowed as he seemed to be deep in thought. Of course, he would still gently smile and nod whenever making eye contact with his people, yet it felt hollow and empty this time.

The Talokanil did not speak of it, but it was clear that whatever their king had been doing, he had not seen much of it recently.

~~~

It had officially been five days since the last time Namor saw you.

And there had still been no sign of you.

For five straight days, Namor waited by the deeper depths of the water until it was past dusk, waiting for anything from you. The past five days have felt as if they were five moons, with him constantly scanning the area in hopes that you were only playing a cruel game of hide and seek. Namor kept on arriving earlier than the previous days, yet still going back to Talokan only when the sky was too dark for him to justify that you would somehow still arrive. He felt like his mind had been drowning in various anxious thoughts regarding you.

What if something bad happened to you? What if you were in great danger? What if you moved back to your country without telling him? What if you decided his grumpy presence wasn’t worth it? What if you got sick of him for being so distant and cold? What if others had found out about your close relationship with him, and planned to blackmail information from you?

Wait.

Close relationship?

He shook his head, bubbles forming around it. The thoughts swirling inside his mind could conquer the strongest cyclones and typhoons if they tried. A few fishes were nearby, side eyeing him as if to say, calm down.

Namor found that his world had become rather… quiet and uneventful without you trying to trick him into swearing, or trying to learn his own native language and stumbling over your words, before trying again with a determined look. Without the soft tunes of your music lulling him into entering a world where he could just be. Where, for a moment, he could just relish in the calming sound of the waves and your humming. Or even with only the quiet sound of you turning a page and subtly acting out the descriptors of your book with your face.

He didn’t know when or why it had become so… empty and quiet without your company. A large number of your meetups, you two wouldn’t even converse and would simply just exist around each other, with him occasionally sitting beside you and silently reading along to whatever book that piqued your interest.

The corner of his lips pulled downwards even more, as he practically bore a hole with his eyes onto your usual spot, an action he had been doing for a few days by now. Namor was somehow never tired of trying to find you and repeating the same actions, thoughts, and feelings beat for beat with each passing day of your absence. The sky was yet again fading into a warm mixture of orange, yellow, and purple hues, the sun already beginning to lower.

Namor looked back at your usual spot before sighing, shaking his head and turning away, already making up his mind to go home. He should stop waiting for you for so long, anyway. He was sure that the people of Talokan were starting to take notice of how often he would leave for more hours at a time than usual.

Thud.

Namor’s head whipped back as a loud footstep was met on the sand’s surface. Could it be…?

Thud. Thud. Thud. The familiar sound of running.

Familiar.

As if not believing his own senses, Namor’s body slowly moved through the water’s currents, as the top half of his head peaked through the water’s surface, his eyes squinting under the harsh rays of the rather beautiful sunset.

A laugh, and a point.

You were catching your breath by the seashore, an eco-bag over your shoulder, with your usual blanket tucked under your arm. You let out a rather tired sigh of relief, muttering to yourself about how thankful you were you didn’t miss the sunset. The moment your eyes met Namor’s, it seemed as if his world had become much noisier once again, as he was suddenly very much more aware of the tactile feeling of the water’s texture surrounding him, more aware of the fishes swimming near or around him. 

“BA’T KA LAGING GANYAN SUMILIP AMPUTA?!” Followed by more laughter, as you practically keeled over laughing.

And more importantly, he could clearly hear the sound of your laughter, your voice.

You were laughing at him again, more than usual. Perhaps it was due to the fact that you missed seeing him weirdly peeking out of the sea with a glare, or perhaps this was just one of those days wherein you decided to be a bit more teasing.

His mouth moved on its own, a smile slowly forming on his face, as he rather dramatically flouted out of the water, the sound of his ankle-wings flapping in the air. When he was nearing you, you bore a grin at him, before setting down your bag and blanket, ready to hangout like you always did.

However, when Namor’s feet finally landed on the sand, you were met with a rather sour expression on his face. Your eyes narrowed at him, as the corner of his lips tugged downwards, the usual scrunch between his eyebrows being scrunchier than usual.

“O, anyare sa’yo?” Namor frowned even more at you, if it was even possible. His mind was already throwing its own tantrum. ‘What’s up with you’? That’s the first thing you say?

This caused you to feel quite flabbergasted on how quickly Namor can switch from smiling at you to suddenly looking at you as if you gripped on his wings (again). You stood up from your spot on the blanket, crossing your arms and tilting your head to the side in confusion. 

“Did something happen?” Namor refused to look you in the eye, and his arms soon mirrored your own, albeit it was aggressively crossed. His head turned the other way, and you were sure you heard a quiet hmph come from him, causing you to laugh lightly. You hummed, noting the way he refused to meet your eyes. 

“Teka…” You muttered quietly, before stepping a bit closer to scrutinize his face. You practically shoved your head towards him, causing him to flinch for a split second before going back to such a grim and tight expression.

“... Are you pouting?” You were holding back laughter, he could tell from the snorts you tried to cough away. 

Namor sighed, already inching towards the water. Why he waited ever-so-eagerly for you is beyond him now, as he is met with the usual teasing and laughing from you. 

When he started taking a step towards the water, you panicked. You already knew that look! You immediately stopped and grabbed onto his bicep. A part of him found that the scorching touch of your hand against his cool skin was relieving, though this part was quickly buried away.

“Hoi! Joke lang, ‘eto naman!” You practically protested, pulling Namor back to your usual sitting space. This obviously did not work, as his body went rigid, with you practically hauling him back to no avail. Damn you, super-strength!

Namor sighed once more, and turned back, sitting down with a ‘thump!’ on the sand next to your blanket, crossing his arms once again. This confused you for a moment, before you shrugged it off and sat down on the blanket, not really used to the close proximity as the fish-man tended to prefer being in the water instead of the sand. 

The thick blanket of silence was placed upon the both of you, as you practically fiddled with the material of the blanket between your fingers. Meanwhile, Namor was simply sitting beside you, staring straight ahead. Gago, ba’t ang awkward?! Isang linggo lang naman kami ‘di nagkita!

In reality, Namor was also in the same predicament as you, finding himself at a loss for words or what to say to you. For a reason that escapes him at the moment, he made sure to patiently await your company for days at a time, so why can’t he say anything right now?!

He collected himself once more, opening his mouth to speak to you.

“... Tu'ux ka'ach?” Namor’s head turned to you, his frown softening along with the scrunch in his eyebrows, as he looked at you with what appears to be curiosity, maybe even with a hint of concern?

Catching on that he spoke in his native tongue, you slowly mouthed out the words he said, a quirk he noticed earlier on, before beaming at him with a reply, indicating that you understood what he had said.

“Ay! Nilagnat lang ako ng sobra, hehe.” You casually said, practically waving it off as you pulled out some usual snacks and fruits you brought with you from your bag.

“Ba'ax úuch?”

Namor was exasperated with how you brushed off the fact that you were sick, his eyes now fully showing concern as he slightly turned towards you more, leaning down to listen more intently. You decided that stuffing your face with more snacks would distract you from the palpitations that seemed to have come from nowhere. You were sure that he could hear the violent pounding of your heart, so you swallowed thickly as you processed his question.

“Actually, ‘di ako sure? Bigla lang ako nagkasakit, baka dahil nag-swimming ako nung isang araw.” You recalled, noting the way you practically didn’t even try to dry off due to how hot it was that day.

If Namor had it in him, he would have facepalmed at your carelessness. Sometimes, you were too careless with your body, just as how you were when you two first met (but that is a whole other story on its own).

He clicked his tongue at you. “You’re only human, ten asab Bik.” Namor basically scolded you. You playfully scoffed and rolled your eyes at him. “Pasensya na, ‘di lahat kasing lakas mo.” You remarked lightly. Though, with the way he seemed to be worried over you did make your heart skip a few beats. You took a mental note of going to the cardiologist.

“Seryoso ako.” Namor suddenly spoke up, jumpscaring you to your core as he spoke in your mother-tongue, albeit you can hear the slight hesitation in his voice.

His arms uncrossed, as a hand hesitantly placed itself on your leg. “Kanantaba, take care of yourself."

You were at a loss for words, sputtering around the place. A corner of Namor’s lips curled slightly upwards, amused that he somehow managed to make you choke on your words, with you always doing it to him any chance you get.

You cleared your throat, before a mischievous look glinted within your eyes once again, causing Namor to feel that maybe he should have evaluated the situation more.

“Bakit?” You started, leaning towards him, the space between the two of you now only being centimeters apart. Namor didn’t flinch, surprisingly enough, as he was too shocked at your actions.

“Na-miss mo ‘ko, ‘no?” 

Silence.

If a fellow Filipino were to have heard you right now, they would have smacked you with a hanger due to how cheesy the line you delivered was.

Meanwhile, Namor was too busy having a crisis on his own. Did he miss you? Is that what it was? The anticipation? The waiting? The disappointment? What nonsense! You were but a mere surface dweller and he was the king of Talokan! (Namor would later on realize that he sounded like a child throwing a temper tantrum.) 

Back to your perspective, you were only met with complete and utter silence. You didn’t know if it was the heat or what, but you were sweating quite a bit as you awaited his reply. Soon however, dread settled in your stomach as you thought of the possibility of him walking out on you again. 

“Uhm, huy, joke lang yu-”

“Yes, I did.”

Silence once again.

But this time, K’ukulkan was the one to have the mischievous glint in his eyes. The way he answered so matter-of-factly caught you off-guard, and he was glad it did. 

Your mouth was practically agape when you finally processed what he said. Did he just admit to emotional vulnerability? To you?! Especially about missing you?!

However, when K’ukulkan’s lips soon curled up into an amused smile, you rolled your eyes and turned away from him, hoping that the pounding of your heart against your chest couldn’t be noticed. 

“WHATEVER, ‘bala ka ‘jan!” You exclaimed, pretending to look for your phone in your eco-bag, just to find something to do with your hands. K’ukulkan chuckled, which sounded like a melody to your ears, so you couldn’t help from smiling and quietly chuckling with him. 

After a few moments, soon enough you were both back to your usual positions, with K’ukulkan back in the water as you quietly read a book from your blanket. The soft tunes of your native tongue played in the air, as Namor took note that this was one that he particularly favored, and he was sure that you caught on to that. He felt that this moment was close to his home.

A small part of K’ukulkan meant what he said, and he also wondered if you felt the same.

You did. 

You both did.

#namor x reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor x filipino!reader miniseries #namor x filipino!reader #filipino!reader #namor imagine #namor one shot #namor x pinoy!reader #pinoy!reader #mcu x reader #namor of talokan #mcu x filipino!reader #mcu fic #namor fluff #namor x filipino reader #namor mcu #mcu x filipino reader #namor x reader fluff

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,833 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the quarry, CDC Warnings: language, attempted sexual violence (no description, Shane to Lori) Summary: The group arrives at the CDC and tensions rise between Y/N and Daryl. Can they reconcile? A/N: This is the FINAL part of a miniseries! A/N: The patron and requester for this fic is the lovely goddess @winchestershiresauce so thank her for her amazing generosity! Without her, this wouldn't exist. Plus, she's delightful.

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Previous Chapter

You awoke very early the next day, your head feeling foggy. You walked your fingers over the back of your skull and winced at the tender spot where you’d collided with the ground during the attack. Apparently, you weren’t quite over the head injury yet and when you rose to pull on some fresh clothes you felt a bit unsteady. Perhaps you should have rested more yesterday rather than giving in to a carnal whim…

The morning was a chaotic as everyone decided what to leave and what to take for the upcoming journey. You hardly saw Shane since he was busy coordinating and supplying the convoy, not that you had necessarily expected to particularly see more of him. And Daryl? You caught a couple brief glimpses of him as you prepared, but he was a blur of motion and you distinctly thought that he was avoiding you.

The time finally came to leave and you had to say goodbye to some members of the group who had decided to go their own way, chiefly the Morales family. Sophia was particularly heartbroken to have to say goodbye to her friend.

You asked her to help you load some of the spare supplies into Dale’s RV as a distraction and Carol suggested that you ride with them. Jim was worsening from his bite wound and the subsequent infection and Jackie and Carol were chiefly caring for him. The least you could do was make sure that Sophia wasn’t scared.

You knew Rick’s heart was in the right place, but you were under no delusions about any miracle on the other end of this journey. You’d seen enough of the city and surrounding suburbs falling to pieces on and just after outbreak day and had serious doubts about a safe haven at either the CDC or Fort Benning… If you’d had your way, you would have just moved camp to another location farther out from Atlanta. But no one had asked, and ultimately you knew that both Rick and Shane had the whole group’s best interest at heart. You very briefly considered going your own way, but the thought was far too terrifying. To make it these days, you needed people. For now, you’d go along. And maybe you’d all get miraculously lucky.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The voyage was far harder than you imagined. By the time you were nearing the destination, most of you hadn’t had anything to eat for days, and had barely had any water. You felt yourself growing weaker and weaker, and in this world that was an automatic road to death, whether under the jaws of a walker or at the hands of another human.

When you arrived at CDC, your heart sank further into your stomach, churning restlessly as you looked at the endless corpses lying below swarms of flies, rotting in the sun. The smell was overwhelming, and if you’d had anything in your stomach at all it probably would have come up.

You hung back as the group moved toward the building silently, Rick leading and Shane flanking everyone, watching for signs of movement. A suffocating sense of unease washed over you, and your steps faltered. Suddenly, Daryl was next to you, glancing over at your face through narrowed eyes.

You glanced at him and then simply gulped down your disquiet and started forward again. He lagged behind you, staring back at the minefield of the dead.

Soon you were at the entrance, shifting anxiously and watching Rick become more and more desperate as his eyes wandered over the hulking building, which appeared to be securely locked down.

“I don’t—I don’t know about this,” you said, stepping forward.

Rick didn’t seem to hear you, but Daryl was abruptly at your side again, and you felt his eyes on you.

Suddenly, a few walkers began reviving and wandering toward the group. Daryl dropped the lead with a perfectly placed bolt to the head. Panic began to set in. And then panic turned to desperation of two kinds: Rick’s desperation to get in, and everyone else’s desperation to get anywhere but where you were, in the city after dark.

But then—the camera. And he swore that it had moved with intelligence to survey them. And then Shane was trying to drag him away, trying desperately to talk him down. More walkers were gathering in response to the noise and you swore under your breath, unsheathing your knife and planting yourself between them and Carol and Sophia.

Daryl was still beside you, but his eyes were fixed outward on the walking dead, bow at the ready. When another walker was getting too close, he took the shot. You shifted anxiously, knife in hand.

Just when you had all given up, when Shane had dragged Rick back, when the chaos was peaking and the walkers were closing in, one of the metal shutters slid open with a rattle and blinding light poured out. You all hurried to move inside, cautiously squinting into the brightness, weapons raised.

There was Dr. Jenner, apparently the only person left in the place. As you rushed in with the last of your supplies, the shutter closed again with an echoing finality. You stared at it for a long moment as Dr. Jenner’s words echoed in your head. “Once that door closes it stays closed.”

You fell to the back of the group as everyone followed Jenner farther inside and down in an elevator. Daryl’s arm brushed yours and you glanced over, surprised to find him still beside you, but his eyes were steadfastly fixed forward.

Even more surprising, as you went to follow everyone else into the room where Jenner was going to take blood samples, Daryl’s rough hand landed on your arm and stopped you for a moment. His expression was serious and this time you met his eyes with a questioning look.

“Yer worried,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He could sense it and probably see it all over your face.

“Yes. Yes, I’m worried.” You hesitated. “I’m—I’m not trying to sound cliché but… I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” you said in a whisper. Before Daryl could say anything else, you turned and walked in to rejoin the group, sinking down in a chair beside Lori. Daryl took a chair on the opposite side, and a couple times you again caught him looking your way. His expression was unreadable, but you felt your nerves prickle.

Lori glanced at you. “You look pale,” she said.

You let out a wry laugh. “Don’t we all?” you asked, resting a hand absently on your achingly empty stomach.

“How is your head?” she pressed you.

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a tight smile. Your head was fine, but you were desperately thirsty and felt even weaker now that the adrenaline rush from outside had waned. You all needed food and water in a hurry.

When you got up to have your blood drawn, you wavered and fell back into your seat, a hand passing over your forehead. Lori gripped your arm. “Are you okay?”

You pulled in a few deep breaths and nodded. “Fine. I’m fine. Just—stood up too quickly.” You made your way over to the doctor who was watching with some concern.

Daryl was on his feet the moment you’d faltered. “We dun need blood tests,” he spoke up, an angry edge to his tone. “We need some goddamn food and water. She ain’t had a damn thing for days.”

You snapped around to look at him as Jenner wiped your arm with an alcohol swab, but Daryl seemed to be refusing to look directly at you, opting instead to scowl at your host.

The doctor looked at him, his expression darkening. “I—I’m sorry. I had no idea.” He glanced back at you. “I have more than enough to share after this. But a blood sample is the cost of admission.” You only nodded.

Once everyone had submitted to the blood test (and a few more of you had nearly passed out), Jenner kept this word and offered you a meal with more food than you could remember seeing since the fall, complete with wine and more than you could eat. Even Daryl seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly despite his bad mood, but you couldn’t throw yourself into it, no matter how much you wanted to. You sipped at your wine, but didn’t drink deeply, and when Shane started asking for answers the mood was entirely darkened anyway.

His tone made you anxious and he seemed almost angry that Rick had been at least partially right—there was some sanctuary here. Tonight, you could sleep soundly without fear of a raid by an immoral group or an attack by the dead out of the darkness. But the sick feeling still nagged you. The dense, cold feeling that stuck between your lungs was telling you that something wasn’t right.

“Shane—” you tried to cut him off as he pressed for more answers.

“No, I want to know what the good doctor has to say,” he drawled. “Isn’t that why we’re here? So, tell us, doc. Why are you the only one left?”

The revelry was mainly over after that. In fact, you had enough and climbed to your feet, leaving your wine glass behind and exiting quickly for the hallway before you were overwhelmed by your emotions. You heard your name being called by several of your group, but you couldn’t stand to sit there a moment longer and hurried out into the hall to leaned up against the coolness of the wall behind you. Your head suddenly throbbed.

Shane shoved his chair back and swore under his breath, moving to follow you.

Daryl, now more than a few glasses of wine in, sneered at him. “Way to fuckin’ go, man,” he growled. Shane only paused a moment to shoot him a dirty look before finding you in the hallway.

You opened your eyes as he came near, sighing and pushing a hand back through his thick dark hair. “You’re upset,” he drawled.

You scoffed, straightening up. “Is it that obvious?” you said sarcastically.

“Well, what?” he pressed you, hands on his hips.

You shook your head. “Explain to me why you sound almost angry that we made it in here.”

His jaw clenched and he looked down the long empty hallway, tensing. “What, you think this is it? Everythin’ we hoped for? One man in a giant empty underground dungeon. Don’t you think we deserve some explanation? I mean, shit, this was supposed to be Rick’s holy land,” he said bitterly. “You really think we’ve found our new place?” he asked.

“I didn’t say that,” you argued. “But you don’t have to be an asshole. The kids are in there. We just lost a lot of people… You can let them have one good night before blowing it to pieces.”

Shane seemed to soften slightly at that and hung his head, sucking in his bottom lip for a moment, broad shoulders squared. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am being an asshole. I’m sorry. Okay? I just—I just want what’s best for everybody,” he said.

Your eyes narrowed at him. “As long as it’s your idea, right?” you challenged him. In the end, Shane had backed Rick’s decision to head for the CDC. He’d even been calm and kind as he hauled him away from the shuttered door before Jenner let you in. But tonight had revealed a deep rift, narrow for now, between him and his best friend that you suspected had almost everything to do with Lori.

Shane didn’t even acknowledge your last point and instead you noticed that his pupils were blown (maybe from the wine?) and he was staring at you fixedly. “I said I’m sorry for being an asshole, didn’t I?” He ran a thumb over his bottom lip. “I can make it up to you…”

You knew exactly what he was implying, but you were in absolutely no mood to hook up with Shane. Quite the contrary, your unease stemming from the realization that he was holding animosity toward Rick overtook your worries about Jenner and the CDC. “No,” you said, leaning back against the wall again.

Shane took a step closer to you, his eyes appearing darker than usual with the dilation of his pupils. “Why not? Didn’t we have a good time?”

Your stomach lurched. Regret? “I don’t have to explain myself. I said—”

A familiar southern drawl interrupted. “Everythin’ alrigh’?” Daryl was in the doorway, a stoic expression on his face.

“Fine,” you said, redirecting your gaze toward the floor.

The archer hesitated, easily feeling the bubble of tension he’d walked in to. “…ya sure?”

“She said it’s fine,” Shane snapped.

“Don’t seem fine,” Daryl argued. His eyes landed on your face and he had the familiar feeling of yearning he always did, but it now battled with his frustration over seeing you slipping from Shane’s tent late at night. That scene had haunted him since it happened, sticking like a Post-it note in his fucking head.

“It’s fine,” Shane said again. “I’m done here anyway.” There was some venom in his voice as he broke off and headed down the empty hallway to the room he’d claimed.

You finally looked up at Daryl when Shane was gone. “Thanks. I—”

Daryl’s expression halted your words completely. He turned and headed back into the kitchen area to rejoin the group. You sat with the hollow feeling growing between your lungs and finally turned to go find a room to claim and soak in some of the blessed hot water that Jenner had mentioned. Maybe that would soothe your agitation.

You felt like a new person after your shower. Your mood had lifted, and you decided to see what was available in the recreation room that Jenner had mentioned. You slowed as you heard urgent voices inside as you neared it, and you arrived in the doorway just in time to see something you wished you hadn’t. You were frozen for a split second as your brain struggled to compute what exactly was going on. “Shane!” you yelled almost at the same exact moment that Lori shoved him away. She was on the verge of tears, her face blank and white with shock, while you felt yours filling up with heat. “What the fuck are you doing?!” you demanded, rushing farther inside. Lori sank back from him, her chest heaving with fearful breaths. You stepped in front of her and squared off with Shane. You could smell the booze on him easily. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck were you doing?”

Shane only wavered and made a hasty exit. Your glare followed him all the way out of the room before you allowed shock to overtake you too. Turning, your grasped Lori by the shoulders. “Jesus Christ. Are you okay? Was he—was he really—” She just shook her head, too horrified to speak. Tears burned in her eyes. “Jesus,” you muttered again, hugging her. “Jesus, Lori. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she said into your shoulder, near sobbing now.

“I know…” The only thing you could do was hold her until she calmed down and headed to her room to see Carl and her husband. You were left in the rec room alone, but your interest in letting your fingers walk over the spines of the books had vanished. You felt sick and empty. A makeshift bed sounded good. You hadn’t slept properly since you’d left the quarry. You hoped the door had a lock…

You’d turned the corner, your eyes fixed on the floor, and collided with something solid. You gasped as hands gripped your shoulders the same way fear seized you. You expected to see Shane there in his drunken stupor, but were met instead by Daryl’s blue eyes.

He read that something was seriously wrong on your face. “S’goin’ on?”

Your mouth only fell open and you blinked. Once. Twice.

Daryl sighed and his fingers left you. There were tingles where they’d been. “C’mon.” He turned and started down the hallway, looking back over his shoulder when he sensed you weren’t following. That prodded you forward and you felt your cheeks flush from the way he was looking at you. You averted your eyes back toward the ground and ghosted behind him until he turned into a small room. His crossbow was leaned up against the couch with his pack beside it. He sank down on the center cushion and waited expectantly, chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes narrowed perceptively.

“I heard somethin’. Somebody raisin’ their voice. Was you, wasn’t it?” he drawled, leaning into the backrest.

You cleared the tightness in your throat and nodded. “Yes.”

Daryl forced out a rush of air. It was an exhale that sounded heated, hurried. “Lemme guess. Shane,” he said.

You gulped.

Daryl was suddenly on his feet, pacing the length of the room furiously. “That guy? He’s—somethin’ is off with him! I dun trust him as far as I could fuckin’ throw him!” He froze, his eyes boring into you. He scoffed and shook his head, resuming his pacing. “Fuckin’ Shane… So, tell me! What the hell happened? What the fuck did he do now?”

Your stomach churned and you again opened your mouth to speak, but you weren’t even sure where to start. Vocalizing what you’d seen, him attempting to force himself on Lori, would make it materialize, etch it into reality.

Daryl let out a low noise that was more of a growl than anything. “What the hell were ya thinkin’?!” he demanded, flicking a hand in your direction.

You stared at him in stunned confusion. “W—What? …Why are you yelling at me?”

Daryl spun on you and the color in his face flared. “Because ya—of all the damn people—Shane? Ya picked Shane? I saw ya comin’ outta his damn tent that night! Ya picked—ya gave—” He was so angry he couldn’t even form proper sentences.

For a moment you wanted to wilt under his rage, but then—no. You’d done nothing wrong. You didn’t owe Daryl anything. He was the one who had acted strangely cold and distant. He was the one who suddenly seemed to start avoiding you. “I don’t see how who I fuck is any of your business!” you snapped at him. “I don’t owe you a damn thing!”

Daryl stepped back almost as if he’d been struck with a physical blow. Fuck. You were right. Of course you were. And that frustrated him even more. It wasn’t you, he was mad at. It was himself. And he was jealous.

You went on. “Besides, maybe it would have been you if you’d acted the least bit interested in me!” This time your ears and face burned pink. “But you suddenly acted like you didn’t want anything to do with me! You couldn’t stand to be around me for more than two minutes! And then I almost fucking died in that walker attack and I wake up and you’re—you’re like you again. Jesus, Daryl! I feel like I have fucking whiplash! Make up your mind!”

It was his turn to blink in stunned silence.

“And you want to know what happened? Shane wanted to hook up with me again tonight and I refused because he’s acting like an unhinged asshole and then I walked in on him trying to force himself on Lori! And here I am thinking you were interested in comforting me when something was wrong! That—that could have just as easily have been me instead of Lori that he was— Instead of being here for me, I’m getting yelled at for no reason!” You shook your head at him, nearly trembling with anger and trying to stop tears from welling up in your eyes.

Daryl ducked his head for a long moment and then crossed the room slowly and sank back down on the couch, his elbows on his knees. “Fuck,” he said softly, pressing a hand over his mouth and chin. His entire body seemed to sink.

“What?” you demanded.

“I—‘M… ‘m sorry,” he drawled, suddenly so ashamed he couldn’t even meet your eyes.

“About what?” you prodded him, crossing your arms. You weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily… though you could already feel yourself starting to crumble at the edges just a little. God, the stubborn, infuriating, handsome archer was your weak spot.

He sighed heavily. “‘Bout everythin’. ‘Bout everythin’ ya just said. Yer righ’ about all of it.”

“Like what?” you snapped.

His blue eyes lifted and met yours and you saw pain and regret in them. “…ya really gonna make me say all of it?” His tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip.

“Yes. I am. Because I’m mad at you. And you acted like an ass.”

He nodded sheepishly. “Yer righ’ that it ain’t none of my damn business what—what ya do with anybody. Yer righ’ that I shoulda just been askin’ ya what was wrong just now instead of yellin’ at ya. Yer righ’ that I’m an ass…” He hazarded a glance at you and he thought your expression had softened some. “Yer right that I pushed ya away and then—then was so scared and worried sick after the attack that I wanted to—I didn’t wanna be away from ya for a second. And ‘m sorry. If ya dun want anythin’ more to do with me, tha’s more than fair and ya can go right now and I won’t try’n stop ya. I will keep tryin’ to keep ya safe, but I won’t bother ya again.” He paused, as if he really was waiting for you to walk out the door and not look back.

You uncrossed your arms and let your eyes search his face.

“But if I can—uhh,” he rubbed a hand awkwardly over the back of his neck, “Can I just ask one thing?”

You cocked your hip and nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Are—are ya okay? After this thing that just happened, I mean… with—”

You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah… I’m not sure how Lori is but… I’m—I’m okay. I think.”

Daryl let out a sigh and nodded. Another wave of anger passed over his face. “I wanna beat the shit out of him,” he said through his teeth. He paused and looked up at you again. “I wanted to beat the shit outta him when I saw ya comin’ outta his tent…” he admitted, his tone softening.

Your cheeks flushed again.

He stood up suddenly, his expression almost desperate. “Can I just ask ya one more thing?”

You nodded, your heart suddenly pounding as he stopped in front of you, a mere foot away.

“Ya said—ya said somethin’ when ya were yellin’ at me and I—” he broke off, buzzing with nervous energy.

You nodded, understanding. “That it might have been you?” you offered.

He hurriedly cleared his throat and you nearly smiled as he blushed crimson. “Yeah…”

“What about it?”

His blue eyes were questioning, rimmed with disbelief. “Did—did ya mean that? I mean—not that ya, uhh… Like—just as—because—”

Now, you did laugh lightly at his nerves and he stalled out completely. You gave him a moment to try and find the words.

“When—Shane. D’ya like Shane?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled a little at the way he’d asked. It was so school boy on the playground the way he’d said it. “Do I like him? Not after what I just saw… and there’s something wrong. You’re right about that. I didn’t see it until dinner tonight.”

“Right…” He wrung his hands. “I mean—did ya have feelin’s for him before?”

“You mean when we slept together?” He nodded stiffly. “Daryl… sometimes a girl just has needs,” you laughed. “Everything was shit after the attack and I got hurt and it was stressful and it was just—it just was what it was. I didn’t have any real feelings for him. I don’t.”

He nodded again and seemed to relax some. “Good,” he breathed. “Uhh, I mean—not…”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you going to tell me why you acted like such an asshole all of a sudden?”

He sighed. “Because ’m an idiot,” he drawled. “Ya asked me down to the reservoir and I thought—maybe ya—but then Merle said—”

“Merle?!” you repeated, incredulous. “Daryl!”

He gulped. “He told me I was readin’ the whole thing wrong… He said that somebody like you would never—could never—ya know… like somebody like me. And the more I thought about ya, and the more I thought about it, I just… I thought he was right.”

You were shaking your head in disbelief. “You believed Merle over the fact that I asked to spend more time with you? Oh, Daryl…” So much wasted time. That’s all you could think.

Daryl ducked his eyes. “Stupid. I know. Seems obvious now that he ain’t around sayin it, but at the time—‘M sorry I acted like an ass. I dun deserve a second chance from ya, but—”

You’d grabbed him at that moment and kissed him. His lips tasted faintly like wine still and he was absolutely frozen beneath you for a moment before his arms looped around you. His hand settled so lightly on your lower back you thought you’d imagined it for a moment. The other fanned out feeling the edge of your shoulder blade. And he kissed you back eagerly and a little clumsily.

You pressed into him and then pushed a hand gently in the center of his chest until he understood and started walking back. The back of his legs hit the couch and he fell down onto it. You bit your bottom lip, looking down at him for a moment as he gazed up at you in foggy, happy disbelief. Then you straddled across his hips and looped your arms around his neck and kissed him again. He deepened it immediately, kissing you like he was starving for you, for the taste of your lips, for the feeling of you under his hands. He nearly shivered as your fingers combed through his hair. You softened the kiss and after a moment, pulled back and looked into his blue eyes.

“S’that always how ya give people second chances?” he drawled. His voice was a little dreamy and you felt a rush of pride that you’d made him that way.

“No. Just the ones I actually really like,” you said softly. You brushed some hair away from his eyes. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anythin’,” he drawled. He couldn’t look away from you. You were like white-hot magnesium and he couldn’t stop basking in your light, even if it did burn him.

“Can I stay with you tonight? Just—sleep. But after earlier—”

He gulped. “Of course. Please.”

You couldn’t help grinning at him and pressed a kiss to his lips again. “Daryl. Don’t ever believe anyone, Merle, that voice in your head, anyone, who tells you that you aren’t enough. I’ve always wanted someone like you.”

He looked stunned and a little bashful again. His hands landed lightly on your hips. “Ya can have me,” he drawled nervously. “I’ve already been yours a while.”

“Yes, please.” You kissed him again and the two of you were lost in each other for a long time, lips kissed raw, hands memorizing silky curves and hard angles, fingers tracing over bare skin and lighting it up with electricity. And it was just right, just perfect. There was nothing hurried about it, nothing ingenuine. It just was. And what it was, was two people who had found their complementary halves.

You slept pressed together that night, all of your unease from earlier in the evening had diminished with his arms around you. Whatever came, whatever was ahead, the two of you could meet it unafraid.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #commissions #twd commissions

[artficlly]

the shadow (miniseries - part two)

Post Endgame Avengers AU miniseries - part two

avenger!bucky x widow!reader avenger!kate x widow!reader (platonic)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Reader is an ex-black widow sniper who escaped the Red Room with the help of Yelena and Natasha. After working as an illegal hired gun, Yelena recruits the reader to the team as a sniper. The reader is closed off, not wanting to form connections or friends with anyone. Though, as their shell begins to crack, they notice they have a lot in common with a certain Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of weapons, swearing, lots of angst, fluff and sinful thoughts. lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: hi! second part to this mini-series!! i wasn't expecting so many people to enjoy it so tysm!! i've decided it's going to be three parts so one more part after this!!

main masterlist

The fourth unexpected thing to happen in your life was Bucky Barnes. 

The idea of connection or friendship was foreign to you. In the Red Room, any type of bond to the girls around you was punished. You heard and saw what happened to girls who bonded, forced to kill each other until one reigned victorious. Love, friendship… Those types of thoughts were weakness, a sickness that would consume you. You couldn’t complete a job if you had insecurities or family ties to be exploited. You couldn’t complete a job if empathy got in the way. That is why all Widows received a hysterectomy, to cut away any chance of pregnancy. Any chance of love for a child was stripped away, before you even had the realization that you wanted it. 

You wondered if that was why Yelena was so motherly towards Kate. 

When you started to feel things, emotions, connections, friendship? You had tried to shut it down. You had tried to ignore the clawing anxiety as you realized - these people, these Avengers, you felt something for them. You felt fear when they were hurt, you felt happy when they laughed, you felt pride when they succeeded. 

You felt it everytime Kate received a blow in battle and got back up. You felt it every time a target pulled a gun on Sam and despite all odds he managed to talk them down. You felt it every time Yelena’s eyes would glaze over at the mention of the Red Room, memories of the pain, the torture. You felt it when Clint would talk about the years during the Blip, when he had worn his own type of mask to cover his pain.

Most of all you felt it for Bucky. 

The two of you had tried denying it. You had tried to ignore the pull. Sam would often comment on how similar the two of you were, yet completely opposite at the same time. Bucky was loud, boiling rage. He was screaming nightmares, holes in the wall and absolute burning passion for those he loved. You? You were ice cold, closed off and deadly. You had stared down the Italian Mafia with just a knife and an iron will. You were vengeance, bloodthirsty and prowling like a cat in the night. 

Yet you orbited around him, a frozen planet growing closer and closer by the day. Then when you collided with his sun? The entire world exploded into lights and color. And it was breathtaking and beautiful. He was so deadly and soul crushingly himself as he consumed you. 

He killed to protect, to love. 

You killed to survive. 

You killed because you convinced yourself that you liked it. 

After the mission where you face was finally exposed, things changed. Due to your concussion, Yelena had insisted that you were taken to the headquarters to be examined by a doctor. You had refused. You had said you would return to your apartment and care for yourself. If you slipped away in your sleep? Natural selection. 

Yelena seemed to sense your discomfort, your unwillingness to be around people. Headquarters would have been fine if it wasn’t swarmed with hundreds of agents. Agents who knew who you were, knew your reputation. You didn’t care to meet them. Without your mask, you knew your facial leakage would show your discomfort. The fact that maybe, behind the hard, snarling exterior that you were afraid. 

So, you made the next best deal. Living in Yelena and Kate’s spare room until you were deemed healthy. As much as it wasn’t ideal, it also wasn’t terrible. As much as you hated to admit it, you trusted Yelena. You liked Kate too, she could be young and annoying at times but… you felt a certain protective nature over her. 

You had been foolish to think you would only have to deal with Yelena and Kate on a daily basis. 

The others - Clint, Sam and Bucky - frequently visited for the short period you stayed in the apartment. At first it had been curiosity, wanting to witness you in such a domestic setting. They had only seen one side of you - the one you displayed for the public - the bloodied weapon. It almost seemed to amuse them, seeing you curled up on the sofa reading a book or enjoying a shared meal. Then, you soon realized, they hung around because they enjoyed your presence. 

You had never been one for television - in the Red Room you had been raised on politics, language and underground dynamics - yet you found yourself hooked to some raunchy period drama Kate loved. Clint would always make everyone play board games after dinner, to which they soon discovered you were ruthless at Monopoly. Small, everyday things you didn’t even know about yourself. Yet they now knew them. They learnt them alongside you. 

You had expected your relationship with Bucky to be similar to Yelena. You and Yelena would joke around and play rough, train together and avoid hard topics. But Bucky, he seemed to want more than just the surface. You and Yelena would always have a bond - both being Widows - that would be hard for others to understand. You knew each other's insecurities and fears because they were the same, bred and manufactured by the men who had raised you. Bucky however, he treated you like a puzzle to crack. He would inspect every piece of you, understanding how it all linked together. Then, he would put you together, examine the whole picture and know the finer details. 

It started simple - your shared love for books. Bucky had always felt strange about movies (or ‘pictures’ as he liked to call them). In some ways you shared the sentiment of now feeling an allegiance or addiction to the screens that ruled the world. What you did feel connected to? Books. They had been there since the beginning of your life, always the same. Predictable. You would breathe in the scent and be instantly relaxed. It reminded you of the library in the Red Room where you would study history and politics to be well-versed for missions. A piece of safety. Home. 

One of the first few times Bucky had visited with Sam, he had given you a book. He had noted how you often read and that you were running low on options. Yelena and Kate also often read, but not as much as you. Their bookshelves were limiting for your avid reading habits. So Bucky had bashfully given you a book while no one was looking. 

“I thought you might like this one.” He had said, handing you a copy of Emma by Jane Austen. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you had already read it, years ago just before the Blip. Old you would’ve sneered at him, would’ve told him you didn’t want his sympathy. But the new you? The one who cooked with Kate and laughed at Yelena’s dancing? She had smiled - no - she had beamed at Bucky. And he had smiled right back. 

And there it started. He would visit to give you new books, and sometimes you would give him books back in return. He would visit without Sam. Sometimes he would visit when it was no one but the two of you home. You would sit, cross-legged across from each other on the couch, knees bumping and talk for hours. 

At first it was just about the books, the characters, the plot, the setting, the fantastical mystery of it all. Then, slowly, you would talk about other things. You would talk about the war, before everything, the Blip and everything in between. You would talk about history and politics, catch him up on everything he had forgotten. Thanks to the Red Room, you were a walking encyclopedia of knowledge about different countries, laws, politicians and more. You would speak about when you both escaped, how adjusting to the real world had changed you. 

The one thing you never spoke about was the Red Room or HYDRA. 

No, your conversations were about anything but that elephant in the room. 

When you eventually left Yelena and Kate’s apartment and returned to your own, the visits continued. And sometimes you would visit him. If the others knew or noticed, they never said a thing. Though sometimes on missions, you could swear you could see them smirking at the both of you. 

—

“Herd him out in the open, just in case things get messy,” You grumbled into the ear piece. Sweat had begun to pool at the back of your neck, hair stuck to your clammy skin. Moroccan summer heat was hell, especially dressed in a full black tactical suit. 

Through the scope you watched Kate weaving through the crowd in the packed marketplace. Colorful banners of fabric hung low over shopkeepers, keeping them and their goods out of the direct sunlight. Through the ear piece you could hear the hustle and bustle of overlapping talking, merchants yelling out and Kate puffing for the heat. If you were hot now, you couldn’t imagine how she felt. She was dressed in civilian clothing, but underneath she wore her suit. 

Kate had insisted that she wanted to do her first solo mission, much to the protest of literally everyone on the team. They had agreed to let her go, only if you came along as a sniper. Just in case things got messy. For this particular mission, her skills with a bow wouldn’t be helpful. 

Kate was currently stalking a man through the market. He was armed with a suitcase and probably a lot of hidden bodyguards somewhere within the market. Some agents had caught news of an underground trade happening in Morocco. This usually wouldn’t concern you, if it weren’t for the fact that the goods being traded was super soldier serum. 

Kate was going to draw him out into the open, engage and steal the suitcase. You would watch through the scope, make sure she wasn’t in hot water and then regroup at the jet. The target looked like he was completely oblivious, but you didn’t let that fool you. Instead you followed him, occasionally pivoting to check on Kate as she followed him out from the market into a semi-empty courtyard. 

“I’m going in,” Kate quickly muttered into the comms, closing the distance between her and the suspect. 

“Goodluck and be careful.” You replied, eyes watching as the scene played out before you. 

Both you and Kate had contacts in, some special shit Stark had made but never finished. Some agents had finally finished the project a few months ago. The contacts recorded all you were seeing, sending a live feed of video back to headquarters. You knew Yelena was watching, maybe a few others too. She would be able to see not only a live feed of your position, but also the conversation unfolding down in the square between Kate and the target. 

It had been several months since your concussion. The first few missions back you had kept wearing the mask, you supposed it provided a sense of safety or comfort on missions. One time you had decided not to - much to the surprise of everyone - and decided it wasn’t too bad. So, you wore the mask less and less, until you gave up completely. In the heat like this, you were secretly glad you had opted for a maskless future. 

A loose strand of hair tickled your forehead and you observed the interaction before you. Kate was talking at the target, pretending to be some lost tourist. She was trying to get his guard down, make him slip up and be a little more unprepared when she snatched up his precious cargo. What Kate hadn’t noticed though was a large group of men watching the conversation. Rookie mistake, you couldn’t blame her. 

Swiveling the scope, you inspect the men closer. They were burly, dressed in civilian clothing… but armed. You could see the bulge of concealed weapons underneath clothes. 

“Kate, there's some men eyeing you up. Might be backup. Better move fast.” You speak into the ear piece. Kate stutters over her words slightly, the voice in her ear confusing her script. Through the scope, you can see the man’s eyebrows furrow. 

Then, Kate leaps forward. But something must have tipped the man off, or maybe he’s just not as oblivious as he seems. She goes to yank the suitcase from his hands but fails, stumbling into him as he pulls the case closer to himself. They tussle for a moment, the burly men who had been watching beginning to close in. You keep your scope trained on the target, trying to get a clear shot. But you can’t. Past you would’ve made the shot, but you can’t fathom the idea of accidentally shooting Kate. 

Dread pools in your stomach as the man pries the case from Kate’s hands, smacking her across the head with it. She goes down - hard. A piercing ringing shrieks through your ear-piece as Kate’s is shattered. Then silence. You watch in horror through the scope as Kate tries to fight back. There are too many of them, too many. They swarm her and you lose sight. They begin dragging her from the courtyard to a building near the market. 

Your hand flies to your ear piece, clicking a button which dials back to headquarters. 

“Lena?” You ask, already beginning to pack up your rifle. 

“Yeah?” Yelena replies. She sounds casual, surprised that you’re even calling her. Was she not watching the monitors? 

“Kate’s compromised. I can’t get a shot, I’m heading down. Can you get me a location?” You ask, shoving the rifle and it’s stand into the duffle bag. 

“Shit. Hold on.” Yelena sounds like she’s running through the comms as you begin to descend the stairs of the building you were perched in. You’re tucking your gun in a hidden spot outside - half under the building, half under a bush - that way nearby agents could retrieve it later. You hear Yelena speaking to what sounds like Bucky. A twinge of relief hits you at the sound of his voice, a cold focus finally entering your mind as you descend the down-hill street into the market. 

“Do you want us to send agents?” Yelena asks. There was already a group of agents positioned in Morocco, they had been the ones to discover the underground trade in the first place. Although off-duty, they could arrive in a few minutes if called. 

“No. I got it, maybe. Put them on standby for now.” You reply, ducking down narrow alleyways and shimmying past crowds of people until you’re stood in the bustling thick of the marketplace. You are cast odd looks for your attire but shake it off, heading in the direction of where you last saw Kate. 

“Alright. Keep heading east, she’s in those buildings coming up.” Bucky’s voice speaks up over the comms. He must’ve put in an ear piece as well, you can still hear Yelena muttering to some agents on the phone. 

“She alright?” You ask, not even hiding the concern in your voice. You knew that Bucky would be able to see her live feed from headquarters as well as your own.

“For now.” He replies with a sigh. Dread still clenched your stomach as you moved deeper into the market. 

After a few stalls, you began to notice the space empty. People had scattered, merchants abandoning their goods. You paused, peering into one of the buildings that appeared to have its window smashed in. Pulling your knife from its holster, you creep into the building. The only indication you are there is the soft crunch of glass beneath your feet. 

The shop is a wreck, shelves overturned, goods scattered across the floor. You carefully step over some bruised apples, eyeing a splatter of blood on a nearby wall leading to a staircase. In the back, a door is torn off its hinges, half laying in the alley behind. Had the attackers dragged Kate into the alley? The closer you get to the counter, you can wear a whimper. 

Knife drawn, you move around the counter. Huddled in one of the corners is a middle-aged woman, cowering and crying. In her lap sits a young girl who is sniveling, the mother attempting to cover the girl's body with her own. Your earpiece is quiet as you observe the scene, the woman shrinking back as you approach. 

“Do you speak Arabic?” You ask in Arabic. You imagine it is probably slightly broken and different in dialect than they are used to. You had learnt the basics of many languages in the Red Room, but you were rather rusty. The woman peers up at you in shock for a moment, still cowering. You quickly put down your knife to show you are no harm, crouching down so you are on their level. 

“Bad men, did they do this to your shop?” You ask again in Arabic. 

“Yes.” The woman replies, voice quiet and shaking. She pulls her child closer into her chest. 

“These bad men, did they have a girl with them?” You ask, trying to make yourself as small and unthreatening as possible. That was hard considering you were armed to the teeth and dressed in all black. 

“Yes. They went upstairs.” The woman replies breathlessly. You nod slowly, head turning to the staircase. Your eyes follow the trail of blood that is smeared across the wall. Was it Kate’s blood? 

A crunch of glass alerts you to the intruder before he can shoot. Popping up from behind the counter, you angle your wrist and throw your knife directly into his throat. The woman makes a startled whimpering noise in reaction, flinching away from you. The intruder - who had barely made it past the door frame - chokes on his blood and makes a short gurgling noise as you march over and pull the knife from him. 

“You need to leave. It is not safe. Cover your child's eyes so she doesn’t see the blood.” You instruct the woman as you stalk towards the staircase. She nods at you with tears in her eyes, following your instructions and dashing out into the marketplace with her daughter. Another thing old you wouldn’t have done. You would’ve interrogated the woman with a cruel tongue. Possibly would’ve killed them both afterwards too. No witnesses. 

“She’s on the roof.” Yelena pipes back in over comms. “I have the agents on standby.”

You don’t reply, instead following the spiraling stairs to the roof. The path is dark, stone and terracotta walls scratched and fragmenting as you power up the stairs. Taking two, three even more steps at a time you reach the top. The door is cracked open, allowing you to shoulder your way through into the light. 

Whatever shred of humanity or empathy that was left in your soul shriveled when you saw the sight in front of you. Kate was kneeling, bloodied, bruised and heaving for breath. Around her were the burly men you had spotted, all armed and smirking. The target had a gun pressed to Kate’s head, finger on the trigger. It seemed they hadn’t been expecting you, their eyes had snapped over in shock at your sudden arrival. 

The silent rage crept in, freezing cold and hardening your veins. The sight of Kate, looking so scared, so disheveled? You would never be able to find the words to describe the wrath, the fucking mania that took over your mind. If you had the time you would have made them beg for death. You would’ve skinned them fucking alive, torn them limb from limb and watched them squeal and cry. But there wasn’t enough time. Kate was about to get a bullet to the head. 

With the flick of your wrist, your knife embedded itself into the target’s hand. The handgun clattered to the ground, Kate moving to grab it as the target yowled in pain. The burly men turned their shocked gaze between you and Kate. They seemed torn on who to attack first, Kate with the gun, or you with primordial rage. Pulling another knife from your suit, you stalked forward like a panther tracking its prey. 

“Don’t look at her, look at me.” You call to the men, lazily slinging your knife in your palm. “I want to see the life leave your eyes when I kill you.”

“Shadow,” You hear Yelena warn over the comms. There is worry in her voice and you know why. You are dangerously outnumbered - you had just challenged six armed men. Six armed men who could potentially be super soldiers - considering the goods they were peddling. You don’t think they are though. Not replying to Yelena, a ragged smirk forms as you dash forward. 

One of the men charges to meet you, what looks like a crowbar in his hand. He swings and you duck, skidding on your knees past him. As you slide, you dig your knife into the back of his knee, causing him to fall forward with a wail of pain. A snarl rips from your throat as you rip the knife out, gripping the man by his shirt and slicing his throat open. 

“If you want to run, now is your chance,” You sing at the remaining men who look between each other apprehensively. 

One of the men takes his chances, rushing forward, gun drawn. You easily kick it from his hands, then send a kick to his jaw. He stumbles backwards with a grunt, but you just press in further. You are relentless with your knife, cutting through the men with little effort. These men may be strong, but they are not trained. And they are not super soldiers. They could hold themselves in a bar fight, but not in a fight against an assassin like you. 

The last standing man weighs up his chances and makes a run for it. By this point, you are too far into your rampage to let it slide. Intercepting him, you grab him by his collar, dragging him to the ground. He squirms, trying to break free but all you see is red. With a grunt, you drive your knife into his throat, he makes a pathetic gurgling noise as you twist it. With a huff, you pull it from the wound, blood spurting and quickly making a pool beneath him.

Standing, you sniff, rubbing some of the blood splatter from your face. You imagine all you achieve is smearing it further into your pores. During your bloodthirst, Kate had successfully taken down the target and knocked him unconscious. Your gaze softens as it falls on her bloodied, anxious face. 

“You took down the target! What a successful mission.” You say with a grin, moving closer to her. Kate’s shoulders relax a little, a sheepish smile emerging. Had she been… afraid of you? That made you feel slightly unwell. 

“Well, you did help-” She starts, motioning to the pile of dead bodies. 

“Nonsense.” You tut, picking up the suitcase. “Come, we need to get back to the jet. It’s not safe here, there will probably be more men prowling.” 

You allow Kate to descend the stairs first, watching as she scans the environment for enemies. You note how her hands are shaking. The shop is as you left it, disarray and broken glass. The two of you step over the dead man you had knifed earlier. 

“Lena, we’re headed back to the jet.” You speak into the ear piece, cautiously following Kate out into the empty market place. It is eerily silent, even more so than earlier. A creeping foreboding feeling clenches your gut as your eyes scan over the empty stalls. 

“Good. I’ll have a med team waiting for Kate when you get back.” Yelena responds, though you don’t quite pay attention. Instead your focus is on a group of armed men who had spotted you and Kate from further in the market. You exhale sharply, pulling Kate to you. 

“Take the suitcase and run to the jet.” You say, placing the case into her open hands. She looks at you quizzically for a moment, before spotting the men behind you. Her face goes a bit pale, then hardens. Strong girl, you think. 

“What about you?” She asks.

“I will hold them off and meet you back at the jet.” You explain, removing the ear piece from your ear and pressing it into Kate’s. “Here. Yelena and Bucky are on the line, they’ll guide you back.”

The men are drawing closer. Kate heistates, before reluctantly turning and running in the direction of the jet. Turning, you face the group of men. You don’t know how many there were, but it doesn't phase you. You pull your handgun from your hip holster, casually checking if it’s loaded with a sigh. 

The men watch you curiously with amusement as you roll your shoulders, preparing yourself for the second fight of the day. 

Then, you get right to business. 

By the time you find Kate, you are covered in blood. You had managed to take out most of the men with your gun, using fruit boxes as a cover. One final man had sprung out at you, surprising you. The two of you had tussled for a time, before you managed to stick a knife in his throat. His body had slumped on top of you as he choked and gagged, blood coating your neck and chest. 

Kate was in a bit of trouble herself, struggling with two men in an alley. She had managed to take down one, but the other seemed to be a bit of trouble. The two of them had been so focused on the fight, they didn’t notice you watching. Not until you dug your knife into the throat of the man right in front of Kate. 

“Are you alright?” You asked her. She looked worse than before, a cut on her forehead dripping blood down the side of her face. You reached out - uncharacteristic of you - and inspected it. 

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that!” Kate laughed nervously, eyes scanning the slick blood that coated your suit. You groaned in annoyance. Right. 

“Not my blood.” Is all you replied, withdrawing your hand from her chin and gazing past her down the alley. You could see why she had stopped running, a large mesh fence blocked off the alley, a trail of barbed wire across the top. 

“You are so scary.” Kate continued to laugh, though her comment is genuine. You wondered if she was in shock or just hysterical. You roll your eyes at the comment, sizing the girl up. 

“Only to people who piss me off. Those people hurt you, which pissed me off.” You grumbled, putting your foot in the mesh fence to test its strength. “Here, I’ll give you a leg up. Mind the barbed wire.” 

Kate latched onto the fence, foot in your hand as you pushed her upwards and over the fence. Making a satisfied noise, she lands over the other side. You pick up the suitcase, tossing it over the fence with a mumbled ‘catch!’ before clambering over the fence yourself. Kate watches you expectantly as you swing your leg over, careful not to catch any of the barbed wire on your suit. 

The rest of the walk to the jet is easy, thankfully no more attackers. By the time you have slipped out of the town and into the rural forests you are covered with a layer of sweat and grime. Kate nearly sobs in relief when you enter the jet and turn on the aircon. 

“I am never complaining about the cold again!” She whined, collapsing into one of the seats. You chuckle at her, buckling yourself into the pilot's seat. 

“Oh, you spend one winter in Russia and you will be singing a very different song!” You laugh at Kate, she only groans tiredly in response. 

—

Despite your annoyance with the previous Moroccan heat, you had turned the shower to scalding the moment you stepped in. With a content sigh, you wash the dirt, blood and sweat from your skin. The water stung as you massaged shampoo into your hair, watching the suds roll over your scarred skin down the drain. 

You felt bad taking so long, knowing that Bucky was sitting on your couch waiting. Another part of you was selfish, wanting to stand in the steaming water for as long as possible as the tension and stress was washed from your muscles. You had been covering how tense the mission had made you, something about Kate nearly being shot in the head unsettled you. 

Bucky had been… off… since you had returned from the mission with Kate. Yelena had welcomed the girl back with open arms, meanwhile Bucky had stood back frowning. You rarely came to headquarters, mainly only to ferry to and from missions. A lot of the agents had gaped at your bloodied appearance. It was clear your livestreamed rampage from earlier had an audience.

Bucky had continued his silence in the med bay while Kate was patched up. You had sent him side long glances as you washed your hands, plucking the contacts from your eyes. He had crossed his arms over his chest, watching as you lounged in one of the office chairs during the debrief. It had been short, the others quickly picking up on Kate’s exhaustion and your disinterest. There were some plans to hunt down the buyers of the serum for a different mission, though it seemed Kate would be allowed to sit that one out. You doubted you would be dragged into it either. 

“I’ll drive you home.” Is all Bucky had said to you as your group departed the meeting. It was the first time he had ever offered, usually that task was left to either you or Yelena. Your apartment was a 40 minute drive away, much to the complaint of everyone. You had liked the isolation at first, now the drive was becoming tedious. Yelena and Kate had arched their eyebrows at Bucky’s offer, a silent smirk shared between them. You bit your tongue and just nodded. 

Even the drive home was strange. You could tell Bucky was stewing on something, unspoken thoughts clouding his conscience. His eyebrows furrowed, knuckles white on the gearstick. He had just nodded wordlessly when you had said you would shower. It didn’t seem like a simple drop-off situation, rather that he wanted to talk but wasn’t sure how to start. 

“What is wrong?” You asked as you finally emerged from the shower. Your hair was still wet, hanging loose and leaving damp marks on the fresh shirt you wore. “You have been pouting like a child since Kate and I returned.” 

Bucky eyes you with a guarded gaze, huffing through his nose as you take a seat next to him on the couch. Your apartment was fairly empty, mostly taken up by bookshelves and piles of mission files. The kitchen and bathroom were equally as small as each other, your bedroom basically bare of anything but a bed. 

“You scared Kate today.” He spoke, voice quiet and rough. You tilt your head, fingers skimming over the fabric of the couch. It was second-hand, something you got when you first escaped. You had grown to love the mystery stains and marks. 

“She’s not a child. She knows who I am, what I do. Same with Yelena.” You defend yourself, eyebrows furrowing. He seemed… upset. Angry? You couldn't understand why. Did he think you put Kate in some kind of danger? Did he think you were going to hurt Kate? Kate had been shaken during the mission, you had assumed it was because she had been kidnapped and attacked.

“You were acting like The Shadow today, not like you.” 

You pause your movements, staring at him quizzically. The Shadow? Did he think you were two separate entities - the killer and the ‘real you’? Your hand that had been creeping towards his knee withdraws quickly, laying it in your lap with a sharp exhale. 

“I am The Shadow. It is who I am. There is no separation between the two of us. Is that why you’re upset, because I killed those men?” You ask, trying to keep your tone neutral despite your annoyance. 

“There is a separation between me - Bucky - and The Winter Soldier. I don’t go around killing for sport.” Bucky snips, you flinch back in shock. You knew he was only lashing out because he was upset. Even before the two of you had become friends, he had never used cruel words against you. You were tempted to snap back at him, to tear him down with your icy glare. But you don’t, you knew it was something deeper than being upset at you for killing some Moroccan gangsters.  

“That is because you didn’t start as The Winter Soldier. First you were Bucky, then you were made into a weapon against your will. When you woke up, you were still Bucky. You weren’t the things you did. Do you understand how we are different? I am nobody, I wasn’t someone or something first, I was always The Shadow. Always a Widow. And I am okay with that, why aren’t you?” You explain, trying to keep your agitation to a minimum.

“Don’t say that.” He snaps back, his eyes won’t even meet yours. You scoff slightly, shaking your head. He was covering for something. You couldn't be angry at him because he was sometimes terrible at hiding his emotions. You compartmentalized your feelings, you lived your life numb. Bucky - he was so full of pain. He didn’t know what to do with it, except let it all leak out. 

“You are angry. Why are you actually angry? I don’t believe you would be angry at me for killing the men who hurt Kate? I think you would’ve done the same.” You keep your tone calm, expression cool and collected.

Bucky’s breathing has turned rapid, you can feel the frustration rolling off him in waves. He was upset about something, he had built something up in his head. You had seen this before, his overthinking brain running him to the brink. You had seen him nearly cry in frustration, gears in his metal arm whirring. Even Sam couldn’t talk him down from his rages, only anticipate them and bunker down for the storm.

“You could’ve been hurt!” Bucky practically explodes. There it is, the loud anger. Burning passion, consuming your and everything in its path. It is so hot, boiling in comparison to your ice cold stares and analysis. You sigh through your nose, reaching for his hand gently. 

“So you are not angry at me. You aren’t angry at all. You were worried for me.” You say, brushing your fingers over his knuckles. Your tone is soft, gentle as you take in his ragged breathing. 

One thing you had learned about men was how they dealt with their emotions. Bucky had grown up in a time where being anything other than a big, scary man was considered weak. Men didn’t cry, or express emotions other than joy, anger, lust. Now he was overflowing, he didn’t know what to do with them all. Sam didn’t know either, he was just as lost in his own conflict. He couldn’t help Bucky, he couldn’t talk him down from a rage. You were a woman, taught to hide and suppress your emotions if you wanted to be taken seriously. Strong women weren’t hysterical. Deadly women didn’t cry. Women could be emotionally vulnerable, but they would be mocked for it. You had pushed it all down, until you didn’t know how to feel anything anymore. You and Bucky were two opposite ends of a scale. He was fire, you were ice. 

“Yes, I was worried for you! Those men could have been super soldiers. ” Bucky confirms, he still shifted in his seat like he was agitated. His breathing was beginning to slow with each stroke of your fingers against his skin. He won’t meet your gaze, forehead creased with stress. 

“Why didn’t you just say?” You ask, turning his hand over in your own. You trace the lines and creases in his palm. Bucky is silent for a long time, watching as you study every groove and callus. You don’t look up, not wanting to scare him off. 

“Because I know you don’t like things like that.” He admits quietly. You smile to yourself softly with a chuckle before looking up at him. Maybe you did have empathy. Maybe you did feel things, how else could you have just talked Bucky Barnes from one of his meltdowns? 

“You think I can’t take down a couple super soldiers?” You joke, hoping to lighten the tension. He rolls his tongue over his bottom lip, smiling a bit in return. “I worry about you, too. When you are on missions.” You add quietly, eyes breaking away from his heated gaze. 

You don’t want to see how he reacts to that confession. That you care. There had always been a mutual understanding between you two that you didn’t get close to people. You thought it would make you weak, vulnerable. You waited to hear him mock you, to laugh at you for caring about Kate and Yelena, for caring about him. But he doesn’t. 

The two of you sit in silence for a time, you studying the pads of his fingers, examining each swirl of his fingerprints. Eventually, he closes his fingers around yours, pulling your hand to his mouth as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. You are still, throat dry. Why did you… desire this? Desire more? 

“Move in with me.” Bucky blurts out suddenly. You withdraw your hand with a surprised blink, a small smile forming over your lips. “You live so far away, Sam is always moaning about it. I have a spare room… you know?” 

Your fingers drum on the fabric of the couch in thought. You already know the answer, but you don’t want to come across brash, excited. You wanted to keep that air of clarity and coolness. Your mind was anything but clear in that moment though. You could feel the ghost of his lips across your knuckles, the desire gripping your gut. Your body hummed, begged for more. You wanted to feel his skin against yours, allow him to consume you whole. 

“Only if you buy more furniture.” You breathe with a smirk. Why did that small action, that small question leave you breathless? Why did your core burn for him?

“You say that, but you own, like, two things.” He replies with a laugh, completely oblivious. He had lit a fire inside of you, his sun, his passion was melting your icy composure. Your veins were alive, flowing for the first time in years, no, your entire life. 

“Touché.” You exhale, your voice close to a whisper. “We’ll buy furniture with our dirty, government paychecks.” 

His hand finds yours once more, fingers interlinking. 

“Deal.”

#bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky angst #winter soldier #yelena belova x reader #yelena x you #yelena x y/n #yelena boleva #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #marvel au #marvel fic #mcu fic #my fic #marvel #red room #black widow #the shadow

[fhrlclln]

Hello lovely!🌹 I have a Koner request🤭.

Koner's wife brings up having babies, and Koner absolutely loves the idea of having little mini versions of him and his wife running around the house.💖👶💍

(Also if it's ok...could this tie to your Winter Night's miniseries?💖)

ahh hello !! this is absolutely cute for koner. it can be a part of winter nights hehe. who wouldn’t want to have his babies? 😫

here’s winter nights if y’all haven’t read it yet!!

suggestive themes under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

the prospect of having a family was close tied with you. having now a husband yourself was the key ingredient to your little desire. of course, back then you despised the idea of getting married then having to be literal broodmare for a random lord. but here you are, free from duty, married to the man you love. free to chose— well mostly free to choose in your own home. koner beside you, still sleeping as he hasn’t woke up. the little house you two lived in, somewhere quiet and safe, just a little far from winterfell.

you hummed as the birds chirp from outside. the sun was peeking through the cracks of your room. it was summer in winterfell, lesser snow but still cold. it felt good to know how years after you met him that you thought you’d be somewhere in king’s landing. married to a drunk lord of a noble house, miserable and depressed. that’s what all women in westeros have felt through the course of the years of tradition. all idiotic and bullshit it is.

“you’re awake, my love?” you head shoot up from his chest as koner groggily opened his eyes. you giggled, craning your head up to kiss him. he hummed, liking the morning kiss as your scent filled his nose. gods, was he lucky.

“i am. couldn’t sleep anymore.” you quietly responded, bare body pressing against his as koner grumbled.

“mhm.” he sleepily smiled, voice still raspy and deep. your thighs rubbed against each other as you remembered last night’s rigorous activities. an exercise which you certainly liked everyday.

“rest more, the day’s just starting.” he mumbles as you nodded, still feeling a little groggy as you rested your head against his warm chest. the sound of his heartbeat a gentle tune in your ears. your thoughts wondered, all desires and fantasies you had with him. it was about time you talked to him about this.

“what do you think about children, koner?” you blurted out, kissing his skin as he caressed your back, yawing. you didn’t mind to have children— you knew the cost of it but having a child with him meant something.

“a child, my love?” he questions, a bit dazzled at your sudden thought.

“yes. me and you.” you looked up him, staring at his now opened brown orbs. “born with our blood— a child of ours. wouldn’t that be amazing?” you smiled sweetly as koner’s heart bloomed with love seeing how much affection you have in your eyes.

“yes.” he hummed, kissing you again. “it would be wonderful.” he says with much love. the thoughts of you round and big with his child. doing nothing but to be pampered around, to be cared for knowing how precious you are to be having his heirs. though, for the cost of it, knowing he had more mouths to feed was a concern, but that didn’t mattered. he was officially knighted by queen sansa, knowing his loyalty has been well seen. money shouldn’t matter at the moment. the cottage was big enough for the two of you and he daydreamed of it.

“i can almost imagine you and I.” you added, dreamily sighing. “teaching our son, braiding our daughter’s hair. guiding them, loving them. caressing their wee heads when they’re still little babes. you’d want that?”

“my love.” he sighs, kissing your nose. “anything with you, i’d want. little me’s and you’s. it’s perfect.”

“really?” you smiled as he shuffled to hover above you as he kissed your neck making you giggle. the furs dropping as your bare bodies collided withe each other. koner smiled, the drowsiness long gone as he kissed you again, mumbling it your lips. the thought of his own family warming his heart even more. the chance of witnessing your motherhood fresh in his mind, and the fact that he’ll become a father. it was everything he wished for, now staring longingly in your eyes.

“absolutely perfect, love.”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

#koner x reader #koner #koner got #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #game of thrones #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s request box 📦 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

[yahoo201027]

Day in Fandom History: November 16…

As Marceline is about to be burned to death, tied up on a windmill, and staring at the sun, she recalls her past events from her time with her mom to how she becomes a vampire after hunting down one. Part 2 of the 8-part “Stakes” miniseries, “Everything Stays” premiered on this day, 8 Years Ago.

#Day in Fandom History #8 Years Ago #Adventure Time #Season 7 #Episode 7 #Stakes #Everything Stays #Cartoon #Animation #Miniseries

[whumpsday]

Lost at Sea #1

~ Whumpmas in July Day 3: Lost ~

Masterlist

content: tiny whump, mer caretaker(?), starvation, broken bones, begging, rescue, language barrier, pet whump

damn it’s been literally 3 months since i wrote something unrelated to my main series. this was originally gonna be a oneshot but i decided to make a miniseries so look forward to more at some point!!

-

Lyscla peered curiously at the human vessel.

Such things were usually a bountiful feast: humans were sizeable compared to most prey, with a unique taste. The closest she could describe it to was seal or sea-lion, but that was still a ways off. If one avoided their weaponry, one would eat well.

Humans were an intelligent kind, she knew. Some avoided hunting them due to this, the concept making them squeamish, but Lyscla knew better. A human vessel this far out to sea was not here to do anything but kill. It was simply the course of nature. She would not blame the humans for their hunts either, whether they killed suitable prey-fish or her own kind.

But this was not the typical human vessel. It could hardly even be called a vessel anymore, truly. More a ruin of what once was.

Usually, when she approached a pod of humans, they reacted with commotion, but there was none this time. Most of the humans lay lifeless in the water, many missing their tastiest bits: she was far from the first inhabitant of the ocean to happen upon the wreckage, though likely the first of her kind. Those that were left were bloated and decayed with expiration. Unappetizing.

Only one tiny human face stared up at her, eyes full of unbounded fear.

The sole living human was unwell; this was apparent. Some of its little bones bent in awkward directions, dried blood marked the rips in its false coat, and its skin was red with sun-burn.

It sat huddled in the corner of the largest intact piece of the vessel, shaking. Water shed from its eyes, a trait Lyscla knew to be unique to humans. A sign of distress.

The human said something, its voice small and hoarse, but she could not understand its tongue. Its trembling increased. Though she could not parse the words, it was not hard for Lyscla to recognize them for what they were: an expression of fear.

It was all skin-and-bones. It had been there for many days, judging by the state of its fallen pod. Were it not for the rainy season providing fresh-water, it would have surely joined them. Such a slight thing would not make for a good meal.

And even if it would... Lyscla found herself reluctant. There was no honor in this hunt, no barbed spears to dodge, no quick and darting fish to catch. Just a lost, starving human faced with certain doom.

I could save it.

The thought was senseless. She had never been one for such sentimentalities. She would blame it on an instinctive desire to care for a calf, were the season right for it. Being that it was not, she had no such excuse.

Yet, the desire remained. Lyscla recalled an old flame who kept dolphins as pets. It had started with an injured one, she’d said, that she felt compelled to nurse back to health. She had never understood at the time: why would one waste energy on that?

But looking at the terrified little thing, she understood now.

Pity.

She could take it back to her cave. Part of it came above the water, with soft sand for the injured human to rest its battered body. The human was barely bigger than a tuna; it wouldn’t require much to eat. She could easily catch some fish for it each day and bring it fresh-water.

Lyscla made up her mind. She would care for the human as a pet.

-

Digory couldn’t believe how shit his luck was.

First, the shipwreck. Wrecks weren’t that common, were they? He didn’t know too much about seafaring, hadn’t been a deckhand longer than a week. He was still in training, for God’s sake.

He’d supposed at the time that his luck wasn’t all bad. Among all the crew, only Digory had somehow survived due to his placement on the ship, though not without a number of injuries. And the fact that it had been raining enough for him to get water was nothing short of a miracle, though the rain left him shivering in the nights.

But all of that was meaningless now, because he was staring up at the most terrifying creature in the ocean: a mermaid.

She was gigantic, even bigger than he’d thought one would be, easily the size of a five-story building. The pictures didn’t do the sight justice. The small knife on his belt felt extraordinarily useless in the face of such a beast. It likely wouldn’t even pierce her scales.

It was unlikely anyone had gotten this close to a mermaid and lived. He sincerely fucking doubted that he would be the first.

Digory couldn’t help but cry. He’d been holding out hope that he would be found, even as the starvation made him feel like his insides were eating him alive, even as his injuries pained him with every movement. Now he was going to be eaten.

He wondered if it would hurt.

“Please, I don’t want to die!” Digory begged. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like the monster would be able to understand him.

The monster paused for a long moment, as if deep in thought. And then, to his utter horror, though he knew it was coming...

She reached for him.

Digory screamed. He tried to scramble backward, but his broken legs immediately reminded him of their state with a flash of sudden agony, making him suck in a sharp gasp.

The monster plucked him from the piece of hull. His legs jostled again as she moved him, earning another cry of pain. He lay in her enormous hand, shaking, as she raised him up further. He knew this was it. He was going to die.

But the monster did not stop him at her razor-sharp teeth as he’d expected. She continued raising him up to dizzying height, to the top of her head, where she placed him with surprising gentleness. He immediately grabbed onto her hair: he could not fall from here.

She swam, keeping the top of her head above water. As he became soaked with sea-spray, Digory realized what was happening: she wanted to take him home to eat.

At least he wouldn’t die near that stupid boat.

At long last, she stopped inside a cave. Digory flinched back as she took him from her head and placed him on the sand inside, crying out again at the aggravation of his injuries. The sand clung to his wet skin and clothes, but at least it was soft.

The monster brought up her other hand and dumped something at his feet.

Fish.

Three of them, each the size of his arm, flopping around on the sand. Digory didn’t know what kind, and he didn’t care. It was food.

He pulled the knife from his belt and dispatched one, not even properly preparing it before he dug in face-first. Digory had lost count of the days, but he knew it had been more than a week since he’d eaten. The raw fish was the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life.

The monster watched him, head tilted to the side.

Digory shuddered under her gaze. He didn’t know why she hadn’t killed him yet, but he was glad he was able to feel full one more time.

-

(edit: digory is normal human sized, lyscla is about 60 feet tall. tuna are bigger than u think lol. my bad)

here’s some picrews of our new caretaker(?) & whumpee! (picrew used)

gonna put the banner at the bottom for writing-based WIJ days! this prompt really inspired me.

@whumpmasinjuly​

taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps​

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump​

#wij2022 #whumpmasinjuly #whump #my writing #tiny whump #g/t #starvation #broken bones #begging #rescue #language barrier #pet whump #mer caretaker #monster caretaker #nonhuman caretaker #lost at sea #whump writing

[marta-bee]

I’m continuing on with my Good Omens (re-)read, and let me tell you, as fun as the miniseries version of the handing over of the baby antichrist was, it’s got nothing on the written page. The showrunners did the best they could, of course, but the medium only allows for a certain amount of the .. attitude, between Crowley and Hastur. This is a bit long, but to cut any of it seems like sacrilege. Or -lege against somebody, at any rate.

"Hi," said Crowley, giving them a little wave. "Sorry I'm late, but you know how it is on the A40 at Denham, and then I tried to cut up towards Chorley Wood and then-"

"Now we art all here," said Hastur meaningfully, "we must recount the Deeds of the Day." "Yeah. Deeds," said Crowley, with the slightly guilty look of one who is attending church for the first time in years and has forgotten which bits you stand up for.

Hastur cleared his throat.

"I have tempted a priest," he said. "As he walked down the street and saw the pretty girls in the sun, I put Doubt into his mind. He would have been a saint, but within a decade we shall have him."

"Nice one," said Crowley, helpfully.

"I have corrupted a politician," said Ligur. "I let him think a tiny bribe would not hurt. Within a year we shall have him."

They both looked expectantly at Crowley, who gave them a big smile. "You'll like this," he said.

His smile became even wider and more conspiratorial.

"I tied up every portable telephone system in Central London for forty-five minutes at lunchtime," he said.

There was silence, except for the distant swishing of cars. "Yes?" said Hastur. "And then what?"

"Look, it wasn't easy," said Crowley. "That's all?" said Ligur.

"Look, people – "

"And exactly what has that done to secure souls for our master?" said Hastur. Crowley pulled himself together.

What could he tell them? That twenty thousand people got bloody furious? That you could hear the arteries clanging shut all across the city? And that then they went back and took it out on their secretaries or traffic wardens or whatever, and they took it out on other people? In all kinds of vindictive little ways which, and here was the good bit, they thought up themselves. For the rest of the day. The pass-along effects were incalculable. Thousands and thousands of souls all got a faint patina of tarnish, and you hardly had to lift a finger.

But you couldn't tell that to demons like Hastur and Ligur. Fourteenth-century minds, the lot of them. Spending years picking away at one soul. Admittedly it was craftsmanship, but you had to think differently these days. Not big, but wide. With five billion people in the world you couldn't pick the buggers off one by one any more; you had to spread your effort. But demons like Ligur and Hastur wouldn't understand. They'd never have thought up Welsh-language television, for example. Or value-added tax. Or Manchester.

He'd been particularly pleased with Manchester.

"The Powers that Be seem to be satisfied," he said. "Times are changing. So what's up?" Hastur reached down behind a tombstone.

"This is," he said.

Crowley stared at the basket. "Oh," he said. "No."

"Yes," said Hastur, grinning.

"Already?"

"Yes."

"And, er, it's up to me to-?" "Yes." Hastur was enjoying this.

"Why me?" said Crowley desperately. "You know me, Hastur, this isn't, you know, my scene ..." "Oh, it is, it is," said Hastur. "Your scene. Your starring role. Take it. Times are changing." "Yeah," said Ligur, grinning. "They're coming to an end, for a start."

"Why me?"

"You are obviously highly favored," said Hastur maliciously. "I imagine Ligur here would give his right arm for a chance like this."

"That's right," said Ligur. Someone's right arm, anyway, he thought. There were plenty of right arms around; no sense in wasting a good one.

Hastur produced a clipboard from the grubby recesses of his mack. "Sign. Here," he said, leaving a terrible pause between the words.

Crowley fumbled vaguely in an inside pocket and produced a pen. It was sleek and matte black. It looked as though it could exceed the speed limit.

"S'nice pen," said Ligur.

"It can write under water," Crowley muttered. "Whatever will they think of next?" mused Ligur.

"Whatever it is, they'd better think of it quickly," said Hastur. "No. Not A. J. Crowley. Your real name."

Crowley nodded mournfully and drew a complex, wiggly sign on the page. It glowed red in the gloom, just for a moment, and then faded.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" he said.

"You will receive instructions." Hastur scowled. "Why so worried, Crowley? The moment we have been working for all these centuries is at hands"

"Yeah. Right," said Crowley. He did not look, now, like the lithe figure that had sprung so lithely from the Bentley a few minutes ago. He had a hunted expression.

The bare bones are definitely there in the show, but there’s something particularly genius of about the way the different tones and attitudes are captured in the thoughts and voice-tags. It just kind of slides right into every available inch of the scene. The contempt, the characterization (flash bastard vs. fourteenth-century minds, etc.) It’s almost passive-aggressive in a way. But it definitely packs a punch.

The little grace notes, the barely-mentioned deeds like Manchester (why is it so fun to make jokes about northern cities in British media? I had the exact same giggle-fit to Doctor Who’s poking fun at Cardiff....), but most of all the glimpse we get into what makes Crowley work. He’s not actually a bad demon, in many ways he’s a very good demon for the modern times, very effective, but also rebelling against pretty much else, including other demons and even the concept of what it means to be demonic. Flash bastard, indeed.

I do believe I’m in love.

#good omens #book omens #marta rereads good omens

[uselesssomebody]

𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕤 - eddie munson x reader

complete masterlist | stranger things masterlist | eddie munson masterlist

“𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤 

𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕” - when the sun goes down | arctic monkeys

➵ part two of the ‘when the sun goes down’ miniseries

words || 𝟜.𝟞𝕜

summary || in which he becomes the reader’s sweet guy

a/n || so… this would have been my first 10k fic if i’d kept both parts together - but i think i like it better like this anyways

➵ got another eddie in the works & some more parts to the lighthouse w/ bucky

➵ thanks to @joekeeryswife, @oh-its-jennyyy and @krimsonsimp for convincing me to get this out so soon; hope y’all like it!

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

original post || part one

warnings || fluff/(very little) angst

➵ some standard high-school ostracization

➵ some allusions to sex (unrelated to the reader)

she had spent the weekend weeping into her pillow: mourning the loss of a seemingly lovely guy, the loss of an evening that was meant to be fun, and the loss of her dignity, having gone on a date with someone who disrespected her as chance did. her parents had asked so many questions, but she refused them answers, leaving them as confused as she was. 

monday had come quickly - far too quickly - and she felt herself shuffle around her bedroom like a zombie, not even being able to look at anything green in her closet without remembering friday. she instead settled on an outfit so different from her usual, her father almost didn’t recognize her when she came out. 

knowing the weekend had been difficult, he had offered to give her a ride. it was as silent as usual, her worries for the day to come hung heavy in the air. even her father noticed her worry, seeing the bounce of her knee, the tapping of her fingers, and the biting of the chapped skin on her lips, but decided that her mother was always better equipped to handle conversations of this nature.

it was almost worse than what she imagined, the only saving grace being the smile of dustin and mike as she greeted them with the most enthusiasm she’d had in a few weeks. her classes were populated with low, fast whispers, and she dreaded walking past the basketball team’s lockers on the way to her own, all of their hard, steely, scary glares following her. she just knew chance had told them his theories, and god forbid they even try to ask her how much of it is real and how much of it is the exaggeration of a testosterone-heavy, complex-having teenage guy. 

lunch was the worst, with her not even wanting to go near her usual table. she saw janet and monica sneak glances at her, their jaws set and their faces frigid - but an unmistakable sadness in their eyes. she’s half prepared to just ditch the period all together, until she saw a familiar pair of eyes on the other side of the room. he smiles welcomingly at her, gesturing her over to the hellfire club. 

would her parents kill her if they found out? of course.

would janet or monica ever speak to her again? ha, fat chance.

was it social suicide? absolutely, but she’d already been cannonballed in that direction. so, swallowing roughly and holding her head high, she walks over.

eddie’s quick to tell mike and dustin to scooch, allowing her a comfortable spot in between him and them. the other members stare - gawk - at her as she sits down, and she finds herself tugging at her sleeves a little awkwardly. 

“uhm, you guys don’t mind, do you?”

“nah, it’s nice to have you.” eddie’s the first to speak, and mike and dustin are quick to back his affirmation. soon, the other three also nod, smiling welcomingly - if not still a bit shocked. they slowly ease back into their previous conversation, with eddie at the forefront of it. they were discussing d.n.d., which she remembered from their conversation at her doorstep. she wasn’t understanding any of it, quiet as she had been at her previous table, but at least now she felt the enthusiasm towards the subject was endearing, as opposed to stupid. furthermore, they were all at least paying attention to her, making jokes that she could actually understand, and explaining some of the more base-level things that she was a bit curious about - eddie the most out of all of them.

they were really, really not anything more that a group of nerdy guys, she was quickly realizing, and it was making her almost laugh as she thought back to monica’s big, scary theories. her smile dropped as she remembered it. oh. monica and janet. she craned her head a little to catch a glimpse of them - janet was looking at her, and monica was looking into her salad, very different from the usual roles of being active in the conversation. it was odd for all three of them, having been inseparable since sophomore year, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it, as eddie starts grandiosely speaking about something else. 

it was easier after a couple weeks. people still looked at her funny, and she was sure she would never escape andy’s harsh stare. but, the others were better: patrick and lucas had never been particularly angry over it in the first place, and even jason had stopped her in the hall to discuss an upcoming test they both had - very civilly, almost friendly. the other cheerleaders never really spoke with her much, but they didn’t even do that much in the first place. the whispers had stopped, and no one mocked her in the halls anymore. school was bearable, in no small part to her new lunch table. hellfire club had gained such a notorious reputation over the years that, as she peeled back the layers of the group, she wanted to laugh more and more. it was a group of guys who liked to listen to rock and metal, wear black and red, and who played a fantasy game in school on thursdays for a couple hours - striving so far from the rumors that she couldn’t help but find it comical. speaking of, she had finally come round to understanding dungeons and dragons, with eddie even working towards her becoming an official part of his campaign. of course, she had protested with worries of time and school work, but that didn’t stop her from finding sketches he’d drawn and blurbs he’d written with possible characters she could embody. 

as much as school had turned out alright, the moment these rumors had somehow made her way back to her parents, she had to sit through hour-long lectures, and then days of silence, and, now, the occasional disappointed glance. it was kind of hard, so she found herself spending more and more time with hellfire’s band - corroded coffin - at gareth’s place, or just in eddie’s van. 

she was comfortable: better, she was actually happy. this was the change she had been absolutely craving, and, although it happened a little sooner than expected, it had worked out. she was content.

she’d been taking regular rides in eddie’s van or, occasionally, nancy wheeler’s and alumni steve harrington’s cars, when dustin and mike tagged along. sometimes, that didn’t even have to happen, as she had found herself becoming much closer with this rather weird group. she could never understand how eddie - metal-loving, ‘satanic’ eddie - was friends with mike, brother of nancy wheeler - good girl, valedictorian, school news editor nancy. worse, she couldn’t even big to wrap her head around dustin’s strange yet extremely close friendship with hawkin high’s previous king, steve harrington, and his equally close friendship with robin buckley - the band kid.

the dynamics were helping destroy any lingering notion of high-school cliques and social classes. a couple months ago, she’d never have come near associating with these guys, though they were some of the coolest people she’d ever met. sometimes, she wished that same revelation would befall her previous friends. 

shockingly, that prayer may have actually been heard as, on one afternoon near the middle of november, she found janet waiting by her locker. she was shocked, and flinched, praying this wasn’t a set-up for anything. 

“hello?” janet looked up at her, her eyes lighting up.

“oh, hi! um… i know this is probably really weird but - i-” she clutched her books tighter, “i just wanted to say that i’m sorry. for - um - being so distant.” it was definitely an understatement, but she decided to nod lightly instead of comment. 

“yeah - i - i know it was all probably a bit to take in…” y/n trailed off, before janet cleared her throat. 

“look, i get if you don’t want to, but is there any chance i can convince you to come with me to that coffee shop a couple blocks from here?” y/n’s eyes fluttered as she processed the offer. on the one hand, janet - her supposed best friend - had ignored her for nearly a month over rumors and stigma. on the other, it wouldn’t hurt to hear her out, right? it takes her a moment, but she answers as she closes her locker door.

“sure.”

janet had tried, to the best of her ability, to explain her hesitation. it wasn’t fantastic reasoning, but it was understandable. for the past two years, they’d all heard stories of the club and of eddie, so it was difficult for her to move out of that mindset. she was finally willing to, though, as she made it very clear to y/n that their friendship would survive a lot more than chance’s rumors. 

y/n hadn’t mentioned the elephant in the room, but that didn’t stop janet from apologizing heavily on behalf of monica, with explanations of “she’s just not ready” and “she’s still sorta shocked”. as much as she didn’t want to hear about monica, she similarly did not want to hear about her excuses. 

nevertheless, janet did seem like she was trying, and she also did seem interested in exploring this new aspect to of/n’s life with her. 

thus, the next day, she’s ready to offer her a spot at hellfire’s table. she glances at eddie, a question of comfort obvious in her eyes. he smiles reassuringly and nods - as much an answer as any - and she found her a spot easily at the table.

that caused a few heads to turn but, as it was not really novel anymore, those heads had all turned right back after a few days. janet found her place easily with them - even easier than y/n - her outgoing personality helping her, especially in a group usually reclused. 

within the next few weeks, y/n had begun seeing longing glances between her friend and gareth being exchanged. she wasn’t the only one, with eddie finding her gaze’s subjects and mouthing an exaggerated ‘i know, right?’ she’d laughed a bit too loudly at that one, and it had made janet ask if she was okay. brushing it off as smoothly as possible, she had nodded.

school had let up for winter. she wasn’t terribly excited, knowing that it would just be weeks of her parents and her co-existing in silence. she figured eddie must have realized, as he had reassured her he wasn’t going anywhere, and that his house and van were both hers, should she want to inhabit either. it made her laugh; that van started creaking if they were in it for more than 20 minutes, so god forbid someone stay in it for an extended period.

nevertheless, going on the 3rd day of silence, she was ready to live in eddie’s creaky car. she had quickly grabbed a bag, stuffing it full of homework she was neglecting, a water bottle and some food. she had slipped out of the house without her parents’ care, slowly walking over to gareth’s - who lived only a few streets from her - house.

upon getting there, she rang the doorbell twice. for a moment, there was a heavy silence, until she heard a ton of shuffling from inside. confused, she saw the door open to gareth’s very flushed face. 

“hey, gar? you okay?” he nods a little breathlessly, and she narrows her eyes at him, “‘lright, sure. can i borrow your phone?” he stares at her blankly, mouth open for a second, before shrugging. 

“yeah, sure, whatever.” he was acting very off, but she attributed it to - well, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t really care that much anyways. as she made her way inside, she noticed the silence.

“you’re parents out?”

“yeah, they;’re in durham to see my aunt marge.” she nods, gripping the phone on the counter. punching in the number she knew off by heart, the line rung as they stood awkwardly. 

“hello?” he answered the phone with a dumb accent, and she laughed.

“hey, ed. can you pick me up? i’m at gareth’s.” she doesn’t see it, but gareth rolls his eyes at who she’s calling. 

“yeah, what’d you need?”

“nothing, just bored. thought it’s be good to cash in your offer.”

“sounds good, i’ll be there in, like, 10.”

“cool, see you - hey, gar, isn’t that jan’s purse?” i was midway through hanging up on eddie, when i had noticed a bag with the unmistakable stripes and initials of any tommy hilfiger apparel. now, that in and of itself was not too odd - half the cheerleaders on the team had them. no, what had caught her eye was the small, pink ballerina that was attached to it. the keychain had been gifted to jan by her older sister before she left for college, and it was distinct enough that y/n always noticed it when jan wore that bag. she looked up at gareth, whose face had gone paper-white. 

“i - uh, i don’t-” he started stuttering and, suddenly, all the pieces locked into place: the shuffling, the breathlessness, the purse, it all made sense. the gasp she let out had eddie confused at the other end of the phone as well.

“what? what happened? is everything okay? y/n?” his questions were bormbarding her, but her next sentence shuts him up.

“are you guys together?” then, she grimaced, “we’re you guys fucking?” gareth opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, leaving y/n to giggle into her hand, “first of all, that’s so gross, man. second of all, it’s gar and jan!” she shouted that last bit into the phone so that eddie’s relentless confusion would stop. it was now his turn to gasp, as his voice travelled loud enough for even gareth to hear. the poor boy covered his face with his hand, and she suppressed the urge to laugh, “hey, shut up, ed.” he obliged, bu she could still hear his stifled laughs. then,she turned back to gareth, “so, where is she?”

at that moment, the bathroom door swung open to reveal a very red-in-the-face jan. she was quick to defend herself, when y/n finally hung up the phone, holding her hands up.

“look, i don’t care - i think you guys are cute anyways. but, you could have told us!” janet scoffed, but her features had softened - making it playful as opposed to angry. 

“god, you’re such a hypocrite!” y/n’s face scrunched up, unsure of exactly what she was talking about. 

“huh?” janet smiled at her knowingly.

“ooh, playing dumb still looks bad on you,” y/n rolled her eyes. the repetition of this notion from multiple people was just bullying now, “you still haven’t told any of us about you and eddie!” y/n nearly recoiled in shock. 

“what? me and eddie?” janet was just laughing now.

“what? we aren’t blind, hun. we were gonna give you time to tell us everything, but-”

“wait, you think me and eddie are a thing?” janet nodded like it was the most obvious think in the world, and, now, it was y/n’s turn to laugh, “you - you’re serious? oh my fucking god, jan, we are not dating. we’re just friends.” janet pauses for a second, before laughing. even gareth joins in. it lasts for, like, a whole minute, with y/n just feeling more and more violated as it continued. as they finally came down from it, janet wiping a few tears from her eyes, she sighed.

“yeah, sure, whatever you say.” at that moment, the squeaky sound of a horn came from outside, and y/n felt herself huff. 

“fuck you guys!” they smiled back, and, before she closed the door, she remembered her most important piece of advice: “use protection!”

eddie had noticed her uncharacteristic silence on the ride back to his, contrasting heavily with their joking nature just a few minutes ago over the phone. he didn’t comment on it, though - knowing that she was probably just dealing with stuff at home. 

she, on the other hand, was far too busy dwelling on what janet had said to her. at first, she was sorta angry - the both of them had gone way out of line, and it was even more awkward as she thought about janet’s implication that all their other friends thought the same.

soon, though, that anger morphed into a strange nervousness in her stomach, spurred on by the fact that, although there was honestly and truly nothing happening between her and eddie, that didn’t exactly mean that she hadn’t thought about it. 

god, she’d thought about it since that first smile he’d shot at her, so long ago. she’d be blind to say he wasn’t attractive, but she was sure the butterflies she felt when he smiled at her, or called her ‘sweetheart’ weren’t common reactions to him. she felt herself overtly staring out of the passenger window, worried that she’d look at him and just be more confused. 

of course, it didn’t help that it was a short ride, and he was quick to open her door for her, in a very similar fashion to the first time. at first, he played into the ‘butler’ role whenever he did it, but, soon, y/n realized, that was just him - that gentlemanly kindness was all him. she clutched her bag tightly as he smiled at her, muttering a quick “thanks” in his general direction. 

she sort of shuffled into his place, with him close on her heels. shutting the door behind them, he was quick to the fridge, offering one of the few non-alcoholic drinks that sat there - a coke. she took it without looking at him, and he turned to fetch himself a glass of water. she sets her bag down on the table in front of the couch - which the both used interchangeably as a coffee table and a dinner table. today, she used it as a desk, balancing her bag precariously against its leg. 

truly, she’d bought her homework to give the impression that she would be getting work done when, in reality, she’d just watch a movie with eddie. now, though, as she remembered their close proximity whenever they did: her legs draped over his lap, his head on her chest, her back against his arm, she was seriously against that idea. she stared at her homework in abject horror, wondering why the hell she had reminded herself of that, and why her heart was going so damn fast-

“mrs.o’donnell’s making you do shit over the break?” he had plopped down beside her without her noticing, dry froot loops in a bowl in his hand. he had a tendency to snack when she was over; she knew it was because he didn’t like smoking or drinking in front of her, knowing it made her uncomfortable. she’d accepted much of this new life she was living, but her distaste of anything potentially addictive had stayed with her throughout it all. nevertheless, she had tried several times to convince him that she was totally fine with it, and he was free to do as he wished - especially in his own home. nevertheless, he never did smoke or drink in front of her - owing to the collection of food that she’d also brought. 

“she’s making everyone do this essay. it’s, like, 10 percent of the grade and due a week after break’s over.” she can see his eyes widen, as the bowl clattered on the table and he rose up, cursing quietly. she looks up at him as he pulls his hair with his hand, and smiles, “d’ya need help?” he looked at her with pleading eyes.

“please.”

she found them in a position that she had been so worried about before, with his arm draped on the couch behind her and her leaning on it lightly, as she read him the specifications for the essay. it was an opinion text on the main theme of a book that they had been reading in class over the summer.

“‘-including detailed explanation and evidence of any specifics that you mention about the book’,” she was reading carefully, and eddie hummed in understanding, “the project will be due on the 20th of January and will be worth 10% of your grade’. there, that’s where it says it!” she points at it animatedly, bringing it up and turning her body to show it to him. he looks at the paper, before shaking his head. 

“shit.” she resisted the urge to laugh, before her smile fell.

“you - you have read the book, right?” he didn’t look at her. 

“yeah, yeah, the first few chapters…”

“ed.” 

“okay, the first four!” she gawked at him. the book was 25 chapters long. he’d not even read a fifth of it. 

“oh my god.” she’s in shock, “oh my god!” now she’s laughing, seeing his face of worry. 

“i’m sorry - i’m sorry! c’mon - will you just help me, please?” she suppressed her laugh, reaching into her bag. as she withdraws, she’s pulled out a book - the book that they’d been reading. she’d filled it with annotations, notes, highlights - the like. she slipped it into his lap and, as he opened it, he let out a huge sigh of relief. 

“it’ll be easier for you to read through and understand with that.” she knew eddie wasn’t slow so, if he put his mind to it, he’d easily get throught it by - well, tonight, if he really wanted. 

“thanks - god, you’re such a life-saver.” he pulled her into him before she realized what he was doing, squeezing her in gratitude. 

it wasn’t abnormal - she’d hugged him several times since they’d become close, neither of them prudes about touch at all. though, today, as she remembered janet’s comments, remembered how it felt when he held her so domestically as they enjoyed movies, remembered how ready he was to see her, it was, like, crazy different. 

she could feel everything: the course pads of his fingertips, the tickle of his hair on her cheek, the buttons of his jacket against the thin material of her shirt. he smelled like froot loops and cigarettes, and she almost wants to laugh, but she’s breathless as he pulls away. he looks at her dazed face for a second, an expression of concern washing over his own.

“y/n? sweetheart, you alright?” she blinked, looking at him, and nodding.

“yeah! yeah, of course!” her voice was shaky and her breathing a little erratic. she knows that he knows, but he decides not to comment on it, picking up the book in his lap instead. 

they’d worked hard for a solid few hours, with her finalizing her heavily detailed plan for the structure and content of her essay, and eddie having just surpassed the 15th chapter, well into the book. they’d ordered a pizza a while back, both of them starving after all the hard work. 

she heard a knock on the door, prompting her to stand up and smoothen her outfit. eddie cleared the table, placing her book and work into a neat pile my the couch. the exchange was brief, and the two of them dug into the pinnacle of their well-deserved break. they ate in silence, until eddie decided to break it. 

“so, gareth the great and janet the jovial?” he had those quirky names for everyone in the group - though, gareth’s was self-administered, due to his d.n.d character. y/n widened her eyes as she remembered, smiling as she took a sip of water.

“oh my god! y’know they were… at it when i came over?” he grimaced, making her laugh, “it’s not unexpected, though; those too have been making fuck-me eyes at each other for weeks.” he joined her laugh. 

“so, what - jan was there?” she hummed in confirmation, and he shook his head, “how’d she react?” 

“oh, she looked like she wanted to hit me over the head with her purse. oh - and then she tried to call me a hypocrite.”

“huh? why you?” her eyes widened a little, realizing what she’d just said. she hadn’t meant to, wanting to keep that part of the conversation to herself. but, now, it had slipped out, leaving eddie very confused. 

“oh - uh, nothing, she was just making a dumb joke.” he shifted forward a little, immediately noticing the excuse, and she felt herself wanting to disappear into the sofa. 

“what kinda joke?” she rolled her eyes, turning her head away from him in hopes he wouldn’t see the light flush on her face. 

“no - she just thought i’d been keeping something from her as well.” he nodded, prompting her to explain herself further, and she huffed a little, “she thought we were dating, okay? she - and, apparently, everyone else - have thought that we’ve been dating this whole time, and that we just didn’t tell them.”

eddie looks up at her with a slight incredulity, both at her words and at the outburst-ial nature of their delivery. there’s a rather heavy silence for a moment, before he, once again, breaks it. 

“we aren’t?” she finally snapped her eyes to look at him, her mouth ajar.

“what?”

“what?  i just assumed - y’know, with everything-”

“eddie.” her voice is stern but choked, letting him know that, if he was joking, now was the time to stop. he obliged, replacing the shock on his face with a dumb grin.

“yeah, you got me - just fucking with you.” she let out a deep sigh of relief, and he winced, “ouch,” he muttered, turning slightly away. she inched closer quickly, grabbing his arm in a truce-like way. 

“no - you know that’s not what i mean. i’m not saying…” she trailed off, and he turned back to look at her. 

“d’ya think it would really suck?” she knows what he’s asking, but hesitates her response, prompting him to continue, “i mean - would it really be all that different? you spend so much time with me anyhow.” the last bit’s cheeky, and makes her smile a little.

“i - i guess, but…” she pauses, swallowing thickly, “eddie? you’re being serious?” it’s a whisper, and he nods in response - no hints of joking in his eyes. 

“if - i just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” he shifts forward a bit. she’s just realized their proximity, their faces not far from each other, “do you want-”

“i do.” she cuts him off, and he finds himself smirking at the enthusiasm. in a moment of confidence, she leans into him slowly.

he catches her lips in his, and her hands immediately find purchase in his hair. his own tug at her waist, trying to close the already small remaining gap between them. she can taste smoke and a cherry-flavoring, making her smile into him. he’s knocked backwards slightly, and they’re separated - only for a moment. she’s quick to duck down towards him. for a moment, she’s cupping his face and he her torso - looking at each other. 

“jesus christ.” he mutters, raising his head to find that comforting feeling of her against him again. she allows herself to sink into him, finding the denim of his jacket rough under her fingers and the feel of his fingers rough on her hips. 

she finally raises off him, breathing deeply, before she smiles. 

“d’ya think janet’s a mind reader?” eddie laughed at the comment, shaking his head. 

“nah, we’re just both idiots.” she was sure they were: she’d liked him for - realistically - months, and eddie had thought she was so damn special as soon as he saw her on that table - smiling instead of looking disgusted. 

it had been a welcome change - just as he was her’s.

#stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #when the sun goes down #joseph quinn #froot loops and cigarettes