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wetcatspellcaster · 24 days

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very kindly tagged by @cursedhaglette, thank you for giving me a chance to talk about my writing :)

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

11! :)

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

lmfao. 985,659. That's nearly ten thesises (theses?) in the time of my PhD programme, so I'm going to just go quickly walk into the sea.

3) What fandoms do you write for?

the majority of my fic is for videogames with love interests and OC potential (BG3, Dragon Age) but I did briefly fall prey to the darklina disease, which I have to admit to here in order to answer some of the other questions

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1- Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth (bg3)

2- Party Favours (bg3)

3- A Bleeding Heart (bg3)

4- The Stars Don't Shine, They Burn (shadow and bone)

5- An Honest Lie (bg3)

5) Do you respond to comments?

as best as I can, I typically clear out a previous chapter just before I post something new (so that's one way to monitor or predict my posting activity lmfao)

6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Lmao. Sunblindness (shadow and bone) which takes an 'eye for an eye' approach to an amnesia AU. I actually wanted to end on a major character death but my pal's response was "jesus Emma, this is something people read for fun" so I watered it down :')))))

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Party Favours currently!! Happier endings incoming, IMO.

8) Do you get hate on fics?

yes, occasionally, I'm still in single digits thankfully. i always find it so funny bc nobody is more critical of my fic than me. you think you can hurt me? babygirl, we're in the 5th dimension of insults in my brain, your surface level comment barely touches the sides.

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

nope! call me the Astarion!spawn ending, the way I fade-to-black :')))))

10) Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I crossovered Stardust and Shadow and Bone, but it was not a straight crossover it was more a chewed up, swallowed, and digested version of both premises. I similarly wrote a Wintersmith/Shadow and Bone crossover that I never posted bc the sickness left me.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

lol. lmfao, even. :)))))

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have had requests made of me and given permission for that to happen, but I do not know if it was ever posted!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, it's not for me unfortunately, I was that horrible kid in group projects who just wished she could work alone :')))))))))))

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

honestly there are many but the two that are indelibly written on my soul are Howl/Sophie and Spike/Buffy like the simple bitch I am.

In terms of things I've written? zevran/surana, hands down.

15) What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Anything I post I will eventually finish, out of social anxiety alone. At the moment I'm worried about the stuff sitting unposted in gdocs.

16) What are your writing strengths?

hahahahahahaha i don't fucking know i think i can make character voices distinct so you can usually tell which POV I'm writing from once the perspectives are established?

I have been complimented on my dialogue.

I think I'm usually brave enough to take a risky decision, even if it doesn't pay off. These decisions also land more than they used to so it's a skill I've built with time and one I am proud of.

My jokes don't seem to just be for me anymore, I like it when other people say I made them laugh.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

If there's something that can be said straightforwardly in a sentence, you know I'll say it in three paragraphs instead. I wouldn't be surprised if people think I'm a purple-prosed motherfucker.

Smut and lack thereof

the repeat of 'conversation, stage direction, eye contact, expression, repeat' is not a weakness but it is something I become intermittently self conscious of.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I am a fan of it and I appreciate it when its done well (pour one out for Naomi Novik's fic/writing where the language work is cringingly poor), but not something I can personally do. Admirer in others, of the skills I lack.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

*dabs* Dragon Age, the OG. It was the pandemic, and I didn't want to replay Wicked Eyes Wicked Hearts bc I hate timed sections, so I wrote a fic instead.

20) Favorite fic you’ve written?

I feel bad writing this on the blog that's currently 99% BG3, but The Stars Don't Shine They Burn. It was my first time plotting something that diverged greatly from source material, and I was going through some stuff at the time that I can feel viscerally when I return to it and read the words. It is a work of personalised comfort. There's one scene in it that still gets me, every single time.

I don't know, it's funny to see Pieces get attention and I'm very, very proud of Pieces, but some of what I'm thinking through in that was in its proto-form in the other fic, which is finished and I'm really proud of it... so let's see if anything comes along to bop it off the top spot once I have a critical distance and am not in the writing trenches lol.

Tagging wise, I actually want to do an open call on this one!! this was a really pleasant exercise, so anyone seeing this who wants to talk about their writing or celebrate their achievements can take this as my personal invitation :)

scared? do it anyway x

#tags #tag games #my writing #personal tag

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kalihaze604 · 4 months

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Wednesday, January 17th, 2024

rest and digest

My nervous system is finally healing! This is something major to celebrate because I’ve spent most of my life in an anxious state of fight/flight/freeze/fawn as a result of a lifetime of narcissistic abuse that started with my manipulative and controlling parents. Early childhood is the root of everyone’s problems, and most folks don’t even want to acknowledge that their childhood wasn’t as pretty as they romanticized it to be to avoid processing the painful parts that got bottled up and left to rot and deal with later. Even my own father said “well most peoples childhood isn’t perfect” but was completely unwilling to have any sort of self awareness or accountability for his actions and how his trauma was intergenerational and yes that he does in fact have trauma that was ever addressed and narcissistic personality disorder as a result. My parents will never accept the consequences for their actions yet my mom made sure to constantly yell at me and drill into my head that I always needed to think about “what happens next” yet it’s clear this is just “do as I Say -not as I Do”! It’s pointless to expect my parents to ever heal or apologize for how much harm they caused. Growing up with two narcs made me normalize abuse and view abuse as love, setting me up for a series of failed traumatic abusive relationships mostly with narcissists. Abuse was all I knew and I just wanted a happy ending to my trauma cycle but repeating it was not bringing anything more than more pain and abuse. Then my pain got so bad I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and my pain worsened as my symptoms diversified. Western medicine was literally useless in terms of providing anything other than inadequately low doses of opiate pain meds but I later realized that my own doctor was another person with narcissistic personality disorder and that was significantly impacting my care. She never took my pain seriously and gave me breadcrumbs of care while getting paid huge amounts of money by the government and disability system from neglecting, abusing and often abandoning me to die when she didn’t have answers. Asking an abuser to help heal an Illness caused by abuse is insane, I realized. This doctor’s last name literally rhymes with Evil and the first time I saw her, I thought the nurse said “you’ll be seeing Dr Evil tonight!” Which I thought was hilarious at the time but it was likely just my intuition trying to scream and tell me to run away from this bitch before things got worse. I was always doing sex work to pay for medical cannabis because she was always underprescribing me so I had to pay extra to actually manage my pain and be able to function. I stopped speaking to my doctor in May when I was crying uncontrollably while I begged for another prescription increase and she refused. I stopped seeing her and started buying a small amount of low dose diverted pills to be able to adequately manage my pain this summer. There’s a whole community that is being neglected by their doctors and underprescribed meds, so they sell or trade their low dose meds for higher dose unregulated products or cash to be able to manage their pain and function. A whole community of folks that were failed by western medicine and are now “self medicating” or whatever label gets slapped on these folks who are already super criminalized.

In December, after a breakup with yet another Narc that had caused extreme fibromyalgia flare ups by either fucking me into a flare up or emotionally neglecting me to the point I react by shutting down and going into a freeze state. My body was fucking tired. My back was covered in burns from my heating pad and a wicked hyperpigmentation skin rash. Some dude once catcalled me with “ I LOVE your scars!” Like bro there’s nothing cool about these unique markings, you can get them too if you can commit to spending 12+ hours per day glued to a heating pad for a year and a half straight! Anyways I’m sure they’ll fade once I stop using my heating pad and commit to putting thc/cbd transdermal cream on my back regularly to heal and nourish the sensitive angry skin.

Since deleting social media I’ve been spending way less time rotting in bed glued to my heating pad. I have honestly surprised myself with how much I have accomplished in the last couple days. Since getting out of that relationship and going no contact with my abusive bio family, I feel like my nervous system has majorly calmed the fuck down for the most part. I’ve lost so much weight unintentionally over the past month and a lot has been in the “cortisol belly” area that’s known as a fat storage site when you have high cortisol levels caused by extreme stress and nervous system deregulation. I had boxes of extra small clothes sitting in storage since 2018, and now they all fit me again! Size totally depends on the cut and on the brand but I’m fitting into size 0/xxs clothes now and that’s what I consider a normal size for me? Five fucking years is what it took to get my body back after losing all human rights and control over my body thanks to extended leave, being forced to take mood stabilizers I didn’t need that caused extreme weight gain and the useless mental health system. I’ve been getting so much done lately but I’ve also been resting a lot and having such good sleep and naps now. In the fall I struggled to sleep because I was so stressed and miserable and couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t relax and rest, there was too much on my mind. It feels so Damn good to be so relaxed. It feels so good to look in the mirror and see myself again and actually feel completely content and confident in my body.

#Self care #personal growth #fibromyalgia #emotional abuse #childhood trauma #abuse survivor #trauma #Nervous system #healing #Stress #Medical trauma

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heathercubedfic · 1 year

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for the ask meme: “HEATHER” (i guess you can ignore the repeat letters i just wanted to be creative or something)

H: How would you describe your writing style?

very voice- and character-driven with a clear fondness for dialogue

E: What character do you identify with most? Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

god i really am a kyoya-coded bitch. i've only posted two fics about him so idk which of the two does it better but i like "gone tomorrow, here today" more so let's go with that

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

as long as i'm burning!!!!!! i just feel like it really gives me the opportunity to show my maturity and strengths as a writer. it also challenges me to stay on a consistent schedule and stick to a single project instead of letting my mind wander through a dozen different unposted wips.

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

really transparently self-indulgent author or reader inserts. like, if that's the way you like to engage with fiction more power to you, but it's not for me

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

suzanne collins for obvious reasons, ernest hemingway, and vladimir nabokov. idk how much of their styles i really incorporate but having studied them made me a better writer for sure

#h^3 author blab

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seongsangi · 3 years

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your girl calls me daddy too

pairing: johnny x reader

summary: the story of getting involved with your professor/classmate's dad 👀

word count: 4.5k

warnings: professor!johnny, dilf!johnny, daddy/sir kink, age gap bc johnny is older in this fic (reader is 21+, we dont do that barely legal just turned 18 shit) straight up smut, that's all we do on this blog

author's note: this took me from 8 pm to 4 am to write. idk if that's fast or not compared to some people but bitch... that's a record for me!

another note: idk if anyone's wondering but johnny is a single dad in this, no cheating or infidelity involved!

No one knows about your relationship with Johnny Suh, certainly not your family or friends, and certainly not his son who is in the same biology course as you this semester. The secret is kept strictly between the two of you, the thrill of hiding it making it that much more exciting.

The relationship began with him being your chemistry professor. The brief glances, lingering touches, and frequent visits during office hours became too much for either of you to deny the attraction. It felt so wrong, the professor-student affair being too much of a cliché that you were hesitant to follow through with it. But after a particular session discussing the assigned homework, you both realized it was now too late to go back.

***********************************************

“Professor, why are you looking at me like that?” you fiddle with your pen in your hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little distracted.” Mr. Suh lets his eyes trail down your figure, eyeing the neckline of your dress that reveals just enough to get his imagination going. He’s thinking about the way you waltzed in here with that damn sundress on, the way you bite your lip when you’re confused on a reaction mechanism, the way your innocent eyes look up at him when he’s explaining the concept. He feels foolish, unable to focus on your question when you’re sitting across from him looking like that, the dress hugging your figure in all the right ways.

“Should I come back another time?”

Mr. Suh clears his throat, giving you another glance up and down before collecting himself. “No, no, I promise I’m fine. Let me check your work right quick.” You hand him the paper, watching as he leans back in his chair examining the mechanism you drew. You let your eyes do the same thing to him as he did to you, taking in the long sleeve black shirt he wore today that hugs his biceps almost too well. It has your hands itching to feel them under your fingers, to take the shirt off and see him in all his glory. Your eyes roam his face, the sharp features drawing you in. You imagine his plump lips doing things to your body that are sure to take your breath away.

He does not fail to notice your lingering stare, or the way you’re fidgeting in your chair. He pulls the sleeves of his shirt up his forearm and grabs his pen, leaning in to show you where you went wrong. As he’s explaining, you lean in too, your perfume filling his senses. You can’t seem to focus on what he’s saying, too busy tracing the veins along his arms and hands. Oh, how they would feel wrapped around your – okay, bitch you have got to chill.

“Miss Y/N, is something the matter?” The way your name rolls off his tongue has you swooning, the added ‘miss’ making your tummy flutter.

You feel your body temperature rising with each second, fiddling with your hands in your lap, your mind going crazy with impure thoughts. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “Uh, I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Mr. Suh notices your attention is elsewhere, setting his pen down and looking you directly in the eye, making you feel tiny under his intense gaze.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game.”

The statement catches you off guard, your cheeks immediately getting hot. “I- I don’t know, wha- what do you mean?” you stutter, which he finds endearing seeing you all flushed.

“Let’s not act like we don’t know where your mind is at,” he sees right through you. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m right there with you.” His voice drops a couple octaves, sending a wave of arousal through you at the sound of it. Oh fuck, is this really happening right now?

Your breath gets caught in your throat, unable to respond. What the fuck do you even say to that? Mr. Suh gets out of his chair, his long legs coming around the desk and standing in front of you. He leans down real close to your face, bracing himself on the arm rests of the chair you’re in, effectively caging you in. If you thought you were getting warm before, you’re on the verge of burning up now. He’s smirking down at you, enjoying just how riled up you’re getting.

“Are you gonna tell me you haven’t been thinking of things other than chemistry during our meeting?” He cocks his head to the side, challenging you with a tease in his words.

“Um, professor, I don’t think we should be doing this…” you trail, glancing at the closed door behind you. His face is too close for comfort, looking anywhere but at him.

“Then tell me to stop,” his lips now ghosting your neck, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. He’s watching your chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. Every fiber in your being is telling you this is wrong on so many levels, but it’s making your body tingle in a way you can’t ignore. You’ve been thinking about him and it’s obvious he has been too, what’s stopping you from going further? You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find any words to say, nothing to let him know you don’t want this.

“You have to tell me you want it then,” he pulls back from you slightly, waiting for your confirmation. If you don’t explicitly say yes, then he won’t push it any further.

You can’t take this any more, sitting up straight and saying “I want it” in one breath before crashing your lips against his. There’s no taking this back, you tell yourself as you let him take control. You sigh into the kiss, his lips feel so right against yours, letting the lust cloud your mind. He cups the side of your face, pulling you up by your waist to get a better angle to devour your lips. His hips push you against the desk, lifting you slightly to sit on the edge. Your hands bunch up his shirt, pulling him even closer to you. He bites your bottom lip as he pulls away, searching your face for any sign of regret. Instead, he’s met with your blown out expression, needy eyes asking for more.

Mr. Suh shakes his head in disbelief, almost chuckling. “You don’t know what you do to me, miss Y/N.” You love it when he calls you that. He steps back, turning around to lock the door. The sound of the lock only fuels your excitement, eager to see what he’ll do next. Your hands grip the edge of the desk as Mr. Suh stalks towards you, like a predator eyeing his prey. Oh, how you want him to eat you up right now. Your thighs press together at the thought, a movement he quickly notices.

His hands trail up the side of your thighs before resting on the curve of your ass. The fabric is soft to the touch but he bets your skin is softer. “What are you thinking of, you naughty girl?” His lips are back on you, letting your head fall to the side as he peppers kisses along your neck. “Just thinking about you,” you pant.

“I know that much. What do you want me to do, hmm?” he presses further.

“Anything you want,” falling further under his spell. He groans in your ear, ready and willing to take advantage of your submission. It’s more like you’ve got him under your spell. He knows this is wrong on a professional level, but fuck that right now.

“Turn around,” twisting your body before you can even do it yourself. His touch makes you so dizzy, bracing your hands on the homework assignment that has long been forgotten. He kisses your shoulder, pressing close to your backside as he admires you from behind, the dress doing wonders to accentuate your curves.

“You look so good in this dress doll,” kneading your ass in his hands. He gives it a tame slap, not wanting to be too rough since there are still other offices around his. “But I bet you’d look even better with it off.” The wetness in your panties is becoming unbearable, desperate for him to touch you where you need him.

“Touch me please,” your sweet voice begging him is more than enough for him to comply. He bunches your dress up over your waist to expose your soft skin, the thin panties you’re wearing showcasing your wet spot off clearly. His pants are getting incredibly tight, blood rushing to his member with each second. He lifts your right knee to rest it on the desk, trailing his fingers over the thin fabric.

“Right here?” he slides his fingers up and down your center, earning a shudder from you.

“Or here?” pulling your panties to the side and coating his fingers in your arousal. You let out an audible moan when he finds your clit, which prompts him to clamp his hand over your mouth. He cranes your head back to look you in your eyes, his hand still rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

“You’ll have to be quiet or else I’ll stop. Can’t have anyone around us hearing you.” You nod in understanding, eyes fluttering shut as two of his fingers slide into you with ease. You arch your back a bit more, pushing your hips further into his hand. It’s a good thing his hand is still covering your mouth because you can’t help your moans when his fingers are drilling into you so fast.

“You’re taking my fingers so well doll,” he’s gonna drive you insane with that nickname. You turn your head to get a better look at him, watching him part his lips as he watches his fingers disappear in and out of your core.

He slides a third finger in and you want to scream, the stretch makes you feel so full. You’re soaked now, the lewd sounds of your wetness making you feel self-conscious. Just then, his office phone rings. You gasp, looking at him with wide eyes. He lets go of your mouth but doesn’t pull his fingers out of you, pumping them in even as he reaches for the phone. You try to stay as quiet as you can with his fingers still working your core.

“Hello, this is Johnny Suh.” He looks you dead in the eye, telling you you better shut up without verbally saying anything.

“Ah, Jaehyun, what can I do for you?” Your legs buckle when he hits that spot, almost letting out a yelp. He shoots you another glare, pulling his fingers out and shoving them in your mouth to keep you quiet. He sets the phone down for a second, leaning in to your ear. “Play with yourself while I take this call. And shut up, I mean it.”

You can taste yourself on his fingers, the whole thing making you feel so filthy. Your hand reaches down to your core, rubbing yourself slowly as Mr. Suh picks the phone up again. You lick him clean, getting your own fingers wet now with your slick. He’s listening to the other person on the line but paying close attention to your hand in between your thighs. He likes watching you play with yourself, getting off on the thought of him.

“Okay, all that sounds great. Send me an email of the template and I’ll check it out. I’m with a student right now, so can I call you back later?”

When he finally gets off the phone, he shoves his fingers further into your mouth, almost making you choke on them. “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet? You couldn’t even do that?” You’re so worked up, you can feel your high approaching and you just want him to help you reach it.

You grab his wrist, pulling his fingers out of your mouth. “I’m so close,” bringing his hand back to your core.

“You want to cum? Beg for it,” he doesn’t make a move to touch you.

“Please sir, I wanna cum on your fingers, please please.” You stroke his arm gently, pleading with your eyes, anything for him to touch you again. How could he say no when you’re looking at him like that?

He tells you to turn around to face him, holding your leg against his waist. He watches your face contort in pleasure as he gives you what you want, rubbing yourself at the same time to chase your high. You try to keep your voice to a minimum, your sweet moans fueling him on. If his fingers feel this good in you, you can’t even imagine what else he’s got in store for you.

“Fuuuck, sir I’m cumming,” you cry weakly, closing your eyes and clenching around his fingers as you finally get that release. The sight of you coming undone on his hand is almost enough to take you right then and there, but he holds himself back. Your hand grips his wrist tightly, but he doesn’t stop pumping in and out of you until you open your eyes, worried he’s gonna try to get another one out of you so soon.

He finally stops, taking the chance to taste yourself by licking his own fingers clean. God, you thought sucking his fingers was hot, this is even better. He loves the taste of you, already craving more. Mr. Suh runs his hand along your inner thighs, taking a mental image of the sight of you spread open for him on his desk.

“Miss Y/N, I think it’s safe to say that we should keep this a secret between us.”

***********************************************

And that’s how your intimate relationship with your professor began. You’ve been in his office so many times after that, you’ve lost count, letting him take you on every inch of that desk. Before, during, and after office hours, you both crave each other’s touch. You know to keep your time together to a minimum though. You can’t be coming into his office whenever you want, or else it would start to get suspicious. Sometimes you catch yourself stealing glances at his son in biology class, wondering if he has even the slightest idea of what’s going on between you and Mr. Suh.

One day, when he’s at the front of the class teaching, all you can think about is his lips on you as he takes you from behind, whispering in your ear how dirty you are for letting him fuck you before class started. By the end of class, he passes the homework back out. You see a note written in red at the bottom of your paper.

127 Paradise Lane tomorrow 7 pm

It doesn’t take a genius to know what that means or what it entails. You quickly put your homework in your backpack before any curious eyes can see what’s written on it. You look up to see him steal a glance at you, making sure you got his note. Neither of you say anything as you walk out of class.

***********************************************

When you get to his house the next night, he welcomes you in with a warm smile, which quickly turns devious as he shoves you against the door immediately after closing it, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You grab hold of his shirt as his hands roam your body, pulling him as close as you can. His hard bulge presses against your stomach, thoughts already wandering to how mind blowing his impressive length will feel in you. You want him, but one questions prods at your mind, pulling away from his lips slightly.

“Sir, what about your son? Is he gonna be home tonight?” You feel weird in your classmate’s house, but the fact that you’re about to fuck his dad as you’ve done plenty of times before is more overwhelming than your qualms about being here.

“He’s out of town with his friends,” running his hand up your back before grabbing your hair, pulling your head back so fast it surprises you. His breath is warm against your lips, “And when you’re in my house, it’s daddy.” You’re so used to calling him sir, knowing it turns him on but the new name in this new setting makes your insides tingle. You can’t hold back your smile, giving him your best “yes, daddy” to appease him.

Mr. Suh leads you to his bedroom, the king sized bed hitting your back as he throws you down. He towers over you, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. You sit up on your elbows, rubbing your thighs together as you eat up the man before you with your eyes. With each button that comes undone, you get more and more excited. He’s watching you intently, thinking of all the ways he’s going to ruin you tonight. He looks delectable with his shirt off, licking your lips at the sight of his well built figure.

“You’re gonna start drooling soon,” he teases, walking to his closet and pulling out one of his many ties. Whatever he’s thinking of doing with that, you have absolutely no complaints. You bite your lip in anticipation as he kneels on the bed, securing the tie around your neck into a makeshift collar. “Is this okay with you?”

You nod your head, but he pulls on the tie quickly, taking your breath away. “Use your words.”

“Yes, it’s ok,” you choke out. He doesn’t let up, asking instead, “Yes what?”

You’re gushing already, the control he has over you making your head spin. “Yes daddy,” you can barely get the two words out. He lets the tie go slack, coughing a bit at the sudden attack. His hand cups your face, “Sorry was that too much?” You nuzzle your cheek into his hand, telling him you loved it.

And that’s what he loves about you, that you take anything he gives you and enjoy every bit of it. You’re too much for him. He sits with his back against the headboard, tugging your arm to straddle him. “Did you wear this little dress for me?” his hands are sliding up and down your thighs, bringing out the goosebumps on your skin. You brace your hands on his chest, moving your hips against his jeans. The friction against your clit is oh so good and feels even better when he flexes his thigh after seeing your movements.

“You should see what I’m wearing underneath,” tugging the hem of your dress over your body, revealing your choice in white lingerie underneath, the color making you look angelic but is a stark contrast to the sinful things that are about to happen.

“Miss Y/N, what am I gonna do with you?” he asks as you pick up the pace of your hips, leaning down to press your lips to his neck. He lets you do what you want to him, encouraging your hips to move faster. Your small whimpers in his ear tell him you’re enjoying yourself, using his thigh to get off. You know not to leave any visible marks, opting for further down his chest to leave hickeys. His jeans feel so good against your core, finding more pleasure in riding his thigh than you thought, but it’s still not enough. “Want you to fuck me,” you moan breathlessly, pushing your chest into his face as you find that perfect spot to keep grinding against.

He hungrily pulls your bra down, attaching his lips to your hard nipple as he rolls the other one between his fingers. Your skin is so soft, he could bury his face in your tits all night. He leaves his own hickeys on your chest, admiring his work as he puts your bra back in place.

“Keep the lingerie on.” He pulls you down by the tie again, kissing you fervently as you fumble with his jeans. You get down on your knees, taking his clothes off so that he’s naked before you. His rock-hard member slaps against his stomach when you pull his pants off. You flatten your tongue against his member, locking eyes with him as you lick him from the base to the tip. You take him in your mouth, using your hands to fondle his balls to add to his pleasure. Using your tongue as much as you can to get him wet, you take him as far as your throat allows.

“You look so good with my dick in your mouth,” grabbing your hair and bobbing your head up and down on him. You let him use your mouth, parting his lips at the feeling of your warm tongue. When he lets go of your hair, you release him with a pop, sliding your hand along his length. “I bet I look even better with it in m—” you can’t even finish your sentence as he grabs you by the chin, shutting you up.

“I knew you’d say some shit like that. Why don’t you be a good girl and come ride this dick then?” He shoves your face away, but the roughness only turns you on even more. You straddle his hips, his hand pulling your lace panties to the side as you position him at your entrance. Both of you gasp as you sink down on him, the stretch quickly filling you up, your tight walls clamping against him.

“Fuck daddy, feels so good,” you whine. When he’s all the way in, you lean back on your hands in the cowgirl position, giving him the best view of where your bodies are connected. You feel so exposed in this position, but he can’t keep his eyes off your core as you move your hips, which makes you feel powerful under his glare. You know he loves it just as much as you do, giving him a show as you ride him.

A thought comes into your head, pulling out but quickly turning around so that your backside is facing him. You slide down on him again, his hands gripping your waist. You can move your hips faster in this position, setting a quick pace and slamming your hips against his. He’s lost in the way your ass bounces on top him. You let out a loud whine when his hand lands a hard slap on your ass cheek.

“I can’t do that when we’re in my office,” he lands another one to the same cheek, “but now I can.” He wants to see you red with his handprints, enjoying your little yelps at the sting. You clench around him each time he spanks you, doing so particularly hard but you can’t deny that you like the pain. By the last spank, your ass is on fire, but his large hands smoothing over them soon makes you forget about the pain.

Suddenly, you’re being yanked back by your hair, thrown on your side as he spoons you. Lifting one of your legs up, he slides into you from behind. The new position introduces a new angle for him to fuck you. “Oh shit, fuck, oh my god,” you can only curse as he abuses your core deliciously. Instead of using the tie, he wraps his hand around your throat to choke you. You grip his forearm, letting him use your body to his content.

“Your pussy is so good baby,” he growls in your ear. “So tight, so wet, I could fuck you all night. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You mumble incoherently as a response, too gone in the pleasure he’s sending throughout your body. You let out a choked scream as his hand that’s holding your leg up finds your sensitive nub, bringing you closer to the edge as he tells you how much he loves fucking you. Your legs shake as the pleasure overwhelms you, but he holds you close to keep you from going too far.

“Don’t run away, I know you can take it doll.”

“Daddy please,” you beg shamelessly but you don’t even know what you’re begging for. You want him to keep ravaging you, but you physically don’t know if you can keep up.

Mr. Suh makes the decision for you, pulling out of you to stand at the edge of the bed. He grabs your ankles, dragging your body towards him. He holds your legs together, pushing them towards your chest. He slides right back in, wasting no time in fucking you again. He loves watching his dick slide in and out of you, loves hearing you moan his name, loves how tight you get for him. You let your legs fall open, sitting up on your elbows to watch him fuck you. There’s something insanely hot about watching you take every inch of him, you can see why he enjoys it so much.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, which makes him grab handfuls of your tits, pinching your nipples. “Baby, can I take a video of you? I won’t get your face in it, you just look so good in this lingerie right now.” You nod, feeling a surge of confidence at his words. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, opening the camera and pressing record. He slows his thrusts, sliding into you slowly to show off how wet you are. The camera pans to your bra, giving them a squeeze for the video. He shoves your hand away, pulling your breasts out of your bra. He tugs on the tie, making sure not to get your face but still showing your makeshift collar off.

Without warning, he speeds his hips up again, earning a cry from you before ending the video and throwing his phone on the bed. He’s so riled up, he just wants to use you to finish. “You gonna cum for me daddy?” God, he loves hearing you beg for him. You sound so sweet saying the dirtiest things. “Cum for me please, I want it so bad, want you to cum in my mouth.”

“Oh shit baby,” he pulls out quickly, grabbing your hair and shoving himself in your mouth, his warm release all on your tongue. You swallow every last drop, sucking him off as he groans at the slight overstimulation.

He takes a second to catch his breath, noticing your not so innocent eyes looking up at him eagerly. A playful smile spreads across your face and he knows that look all too well.

You’re insatiable.

***********************************************

The next semester, you’re moving into a new dorm. Your parents are here to help you move everything in. You notice Mr. Suh’s son moving into the same dorm, looking around for a glimpse of him. He’s carrying a box of things from the car to the front entrance, stopping you for a quick “hello Miss Y/N, how was your break?”

He looks behind you, asking if those are your parents. “Maybe I should say something to them.”

“What are you gonna say?”

“Oh, I don't know, maybe something like: your girl calls me daddy too,” he jokes as you storm off, cheeks flushing red.

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #johnny smut #nct johnny #nct johnny smut

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capricorn-stark · 3 years

Text

Protégé

pairing: red hood!jason todd x robin!reader, slow burn

warning: swearing

a/n: for context, this is somewhat loosely based off of Battle for the Cowl (2009) which I definitely recommend as a read!

There was something about falling that you would never, ever get tired of.

Ever.

Probably.

With the wind whistling in your ears, your hair floating up in a million directions, and your limbs seemingly weightless as the buildings and lights blurred into one endless streak of color, the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body right before your grappling hook shot out and you landed quietly on the concrete was about a million times better than any sparring session back at the cave.

You grinned as you straightened, rather proud of the fact that you had actually managed to land so smoothly without nearly paralyzing yourself. Again.The landing was something you had been working on for a while now.

You could practically hear Bruce’s voice ringing through your head after your little stunt, lamenting on and on about how you had more important things to focus on during patrols, and you let out a sigh as you ran down the backway of the nearly empty streets.

The heavy man who had been bound up with a decently made gag and one of Bruce’s fancy tech pieces (Batcuffs, maybe? Something else with Bat smacked in front of it?) grunted beside you.

“What? Not like you had someplace to be.” You grabbed the back of his rather tacky-looking spandex suit to drag him along back to where your mentor was supposed to be.

Despite your (many) disagreements and his (many) criticisms of your hand-to-hand combat skills, attitude issues, and pretty much everything else relating to you, Bruce had actually still allowed you to go off on your own tonight. It might’ve been because he wanted a few hours of nothing but beating up petty criminals by himself for stress-relief, it might’ve been because he had started trying out that whole independence thing with you a little more (even though you were still only permitted to be about five blocks or so away), it might’ve been plot-convenience - but either way, you appreciated the gesture.

It didn’t take long for you to pull your new friend over to what should’ve been your rendezvous point with Batman, letting the man drop with a dull thud and a grunt of protest against the concrete as you glanced around for the other man. You weren’t particularly concerned by the fact that the Bat himself wasn’t there yet - after all, he was the goddamn Batman. He’d show up eventually. In the meanwhile, you decided to go over the information you had gotten on the criminal with you.

Just for the sake of it. Bruce would make you go over it anyways.

“Drury Walker, thirty-two years old, found him trying to mug someone in a back alley and make an escape. Called himself…” you paused, looking down at his sorry-looking outfit for a few moments while he looked up at you with murder and vengence in his eyes. “...Killer Moth.”

“Killer Moth?” A completely new voice repeated in disbelief, causing you to immediately whirl around to face them in a fight stance, heart racing at a million miles per hour. The guy in front of you had his hands up in the air, his face concealed with some sort of red knock-off Iron Man helmet. He was gonna get copyrighted by Marvel Studios. “Shit, sorry,” he started at the sight of you, still leaning up against one of the walls. “I was supposed to make a wholeass dramatic entrance, but you said his name was Killer Moth and that-” The man made a noise that was either a sharp cough or a laugh of some kind. “-sounded so fucking lame I couldn’t help myself.”

Despite the fact that you were definitely in some sort of major trouble with this new guy, he really did have a point. Even Killer Moth himself would’ve been embarrassed by how trash his name was, if not for the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm - understandably so, since the new guy had produced not one, but two guns out of apparently nowhere.

“And let me guess,” he continued, pointing one of them at your head, his tone still all-too light and easy. “You must be the Bat’s brand-new Robin.”

Now this is where most people would've shut up and proceeded to be complicit with the dude holding two guns. But Batman hadn’t seen reason and made you his (sort of) partner because you were like other people. Hell no.

“Do I look like a traffic signal to you?” It had been the very first of your amendments with Bruce. You would not be fighting crime looking like a literal traffic signal or, at best, a clown from Haly’s Circus. And the tiny green shorts had to go. “Or Robin Hood?” The guy had a rather awkward pause where his gun sort of dipped. Killer Moth was looking between you with wide eyes. “Do I?”

“I guess you kinda got a point.” You huffed and he raised his gun again, getting more in-your-face as his already angry-looking helmet somehow managed to look angrier. You weren’t exactly sure how a helmet could convey so much emotion. “But you work with Batman. And I heard you went by Robin.”

Okay, so you couldn’t make him change the name, but you had agreed it would be more of an honorary thing.

“It’s complicated.”

Using such a phrase as an excuse to escape from situations you didn’t want to go into was one of the many things you had learned from Bruce in your five months of training. Somehow, that seemed to trigger the guy further.

“So you do work with Batman.”

Before he could do something actually insane, you had managed to push the gun pointed at your head away from you, using his brief second of surprise to take it out of his hands, kick him in the chest, and round back on him with it in hand.

“And what about it?”

As cool as you thought you might’ve sounded didn’t cover for the fact that you were still nerve-wracked about what was happening right then. Especially after the guy started to dramatically slow-clap like some sort of evil thespian in a high school drama.

“Not bad, Robin. Not bad.” He looked at the gun in your hands and grinned. “If you weren’t Batman’s new replacement sidekick, I might’ve believed you had the balls to use that thing.”

Now, you were an excellent fighter. You had to be, after your excessive training with the guy who had literally mastered about every martial art in existence during his (give or take) five year-long mission to find himself. Plus, some personal experience. But fighting someone like this guy? Built like a tank and padded up in a whole lot of armor and packing an assortment of knives, guns, and even a damn taser you got a first-hand taste of?

You fought hard, but about five minutes and another round of the taser later, you saw the knock-off Iron Man helmet staring down at you before the world went black.

~*~

You woke up in what you assumed was the self-dubbed Red Hood’s safehouse of sorts.

“How the hell did he rope you into this shit?” he demanded with what you could only assume was him glaring at you through the helmet. Probably some expression that made someone look all angsty and annoyed - which was fair, since he had been trying to drill you for information you straight up refused to give while bound (way too tightly) to a chair for quite some time now. Rather rude. “Let me guess. You watched your parents die.” You stared at him before shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Oh, so they just went ahead and died somehow. Untimely accident caused by some psycho bitch in a Spirit Halloween costume.”

“…nope.”

“They abandoned you as a child.”

“No, they didn’t - does divorce count?”

Red Hoodlum’s hands kept clenching and unclenching while he stood there, staring at the wall behind you in silence. From the way his chest kept rising and falling, you were tempted to believe he was practicing breathing exercises amidst his rather violent twitching.

“Divorce - what the hell is your trauma supposed to be? Why did he pick you?!”

“Hey, just because my trauma doesn’t include people dying doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” you scoffed in response, knowing you were absolutely right about that. Your middle school guidance counselor had said so (and it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, trauma comes in many forms!). “Kinda rude to assume it didn’t affect me somehow.”

He seemed rather abashed at that and you heard him clear his throat a little.

“...right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted - can you loosen these ropes a little? It’s starting to kinda hurt.”

“Do I look ten? That’s the oldest trick in the book, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not going to run, just loosen the ropes a little.” He still looked like he didn’t believe you. “Come on, I don’t think I can outrun your guns.” As in his literal array of guns tacked up to the wall behind him, not his gigantic biceps.

And you weren’t too worried about being held hostage by him, either. You figured you had ten minutes tops before Batman burst in through the doorway, ready to give you a lecture on why straying from the specifically designated parts of Gotham he had let you traipse around was a terribly stupid idea.

“No.” He was already walking towards the door, because apparently, he had enough of trying to interrogate you.

“Hold on, I feel like my wrists are actually about to start bleeding or something - where are you going?”

“Keep talking and I’m gonna get the duct tape.”

“Is that a threat?” Sounding more confident than you actually felt should eventually make you more confident. Eventually.

The Red Hood sucked in a breath, stopping by the doorway and turning to face you, reaching into his pockets to get what you assumed was either a gun or duct tape when you both startled from a sudden crash. The man in front of you was already whirling around with two guns positioned to shoot when you heard the familiar voice of someone else.

“Hold your fire, soldier. I’m not here for you.” A pause. “Or I wasn’t, but now I kind of am.”

Apparently, Batman was too busy to save you. Now, you got Nightwing.

And as much as you liked Nightwing, that still kinda stung.

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angellesword · 4 years

Text

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (03)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

SERIES: CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4

Note: OC is a lawyer but the author knows nothing about law except the three law subjects she took last semester. errors. ah. there will always be errors here bc english isn’t my first language. anyway!!! enjoy!

Jimin wasn't lying when he said you were a mess. This was evident to Jeongguk the second he stepped inside your apartment.

Pile of cardboard boxes and papers were cluttered all over the floor, causing him to feel uneasy. The faint colors visible in his eyes didn't help to calm his nerves. It was as if he suddenly became hypersensitive to his surroundings.

He assumed that your house wasn't really that untidy, but as stated, the colors made it seem like it was untidier.

"Hi there, buddy." Jeongguk forced a smile at the cat glaring at him. He remembered Jimin telling him that your cat was a bitch. The fury pet was making this strange, scary sound. Jeongguk suddenly wished you were here to stop the cat from attacking him.

He wasn't expecting you to lock yourself inside your room the moment you realized that he was your soulmate.

He was so startled by your reaction that his first instinct was to run after you. The thing was, your cat was blocking your bedroom door—stopping him from intruding your personal space. It was obvious that the little animal didn't like the fact that Jeongguk invited himself inside your home.

Jeongguk didn't know why you were hiding from him. In your defense, you were embarrassed. What were you supposed to say to your soulmate? How were you going to explain to him that the reason why you looked like a mess was because of your demanding job?

Being a civil lawyer was exhausting. One second you're negotiating settlement with the other side's attorney, then you would just find yourself filing motions in court and of course, there were many instances where you're standing before the jury and judge to present a case.

Expertise wasn't the only thing necessary in law. You also needed a great amount of empathy so that you could understand your clients. You cared for them a lot; this was why it was such a big deal for you whenever they choose to omit facts.

You hated it when your clients were being dishonest, you didn't need them to be innocent. You only wanted them to tell you the absolute truth so that you could properly defend them. It wasn't like your job was easy. The fact that most people living in your world see in black and white was already a pain in the ass. Earlier this day, you had a client who was suing a businessperson for selling fake whitening products. She claimed that she spent a whopping two thousand dollars to get that fair skin tone. Sadly, it didn't work.

The opposing side asked your client this: how can you say that the products don’t work when you can’t even see colors?

You were shocked to learn this. Your client was subject to a color test for eyes. She said she could see colors when in fact, she couldn't. Actually, the only reason why the vendor sold your client the whitening products was because she also lied to the seller. The latter's rule was that she wouldn't allow people who see in black and white to purchase her products. This was so she could protect her business' image from fraudster like your client.

Things like this often happened in court. The one you encountered were usually easier to resolve, unlike what criminal lawyers face. This, however, didn't mean your job should be taken lightly.

What happened in court today actually took a toll on you. Your boss humiliated you in front of your colleagues, saying that he couldn't believe an experienced lawyer like you would make such rookie mistake. This made you feel like a loser that's why you decided to go home early to rest. You knew you couldn't work when your heart was this heavy.

You ran yourself a bath the moment you reached your apartment. Jimin was bombarding your phone with text messages to remind you that Jeongguk, a friend of his, was going to drop at your place later today since he was interested to be your roommate.

You simply replied 'Yes, I haven't forgotten. Stop pestering me,' to your best friend. Truthfully, Jimin hadn't shut up about this guy named Jeongguk since last week. He kept telling you that he was the perfect replacement for Seulgi, your former roommate.

You just shrugged it off. Honestly, you didn't care if Jeongguk was the perfect roommate or not. At this point, you would take anyone in. You seriously needed someone who could help you with the household chores.

The warm water grazing your skin made you feel sleepy. Before you knew it, you're off to dreamland; however, your little slumber was disrupted by loud knocks coming from your front door.

"Shit!" Your eyes went wide upon realizing that your supposed to be new roommate was already at the door. As if to confirm the horror, your phone rang.

Jimin was calling.

"Where the hell are you? Jeongguk is in front of your door!"

"I know. I'm so sorry! I fell asleep." You got out of the tub, hurriedly putting on your bathrobe.

"Talk to you later!" You ended the voice call, rushing towards the door. Unfortunately, you slipped on the wet floor.

You whined in pain. Luck was truly not on your side today, but instead of getting annoyed, you simply stood up and went your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I swear I heard you the first time you knocked, but I was panicking so I slipped down the floor and I..." You were already blabbering right after opening the door. You hadn't seen your future roommate's face because it was easier to lie without looking at someone in the eyes.

You didn't know why you told him you heard his first knock, when in reality, you didn't. You guessed you just hated disappointing people. What happened with your boss today was something you couldn't let to be repeated again. You couldn't bear to irritate another person.

You kept yourself busy as you reasoned out. You ran your hand through your wet hair, eyes widening when you saw your fingers covered in soap suds.

"Oh, my God!" You were panicking again. This time, you finally looked at Jeongguk to see his reaction.

It was like the world stopped.

No. You did not see colors instantly. What you felt was something strange—mystical perhaps. It was just like how they described it in books and movies.

You thought people were exaggerating about what they claimed they felt when they met their soulmates.

Apparently, they were not.

You know the feeling of finally seeing the rainbow after the strong storm? It was like that. Except this was way better. Your young self was probably rejoicing now. Being able to meet and look in your soulmate's eyes was dazzling.

The colors were becoming visible now, it was faint—this was in contrast to the embarrassment you were feeling.

You suddenly became very self-conscious with what you looked like. You were wrong. Your young self wasn't that happy because she wasn't expecting to meet her soulmate like this.

You were aware that you looked awful. The bags under your bloodshot eyes were probably so deep. The soap suds in your hair made you appear ridiculous. The most horrifying of all? You were wearing a bathrobe designed with the face of your favorite cartoon character.

"Uh—"

You ran away, locking yourself in your room before Jeongguk could finish what he was about to say.

Your heart was beating so fast as you stared in the mirror. The disgust you felt intensified. God. You looked horrible. You mentally cursed the brand of the mascara you were wearing. So much for claiming to be smudge proof! Curse yourself too because this wouldn't happen in the first place if you only refrained from crying over your boss' mean words, but it seemed like you never learned. You just scolded yourself from crying easily, but here you were, tears were painting your cheeks once again.

"No..." Your lips quivered. You were stronger than this. You weren't going to ruin your chance with your soulmate.

Determined, you quickly changed into a sage dress. Your hands were trembling because of your new found excitement. You loved colors ever since you were a kid. The fact that you couldn't see them didn't stop you from learning its meaning. You studied good color combination before. You were aware how to aesthetically match the hues. For instance, you knew that you would look ridiculous if you wore a neon green shirt and bright pink jeans. You were always careful in choosing what to wear, so now that you could finally see colors without referring to your color palette generator, you were beyond happy.

When you looked decent enough, you decided to finally face your soulmate. The first thing you saw as you opened your bedroom door was Jeongguk sitting on your couch—this was a very shocking scene. No. You weren't surprised because he was casually plopped down on your sofa, what you didn't expect was to see Miri, your bitch of a cat, to be so comfortable on Jeongguk's lap. Your pet looked at peace; the usual hiss she was making was replaced by a silent purring. Her bambi eyes mirrored your soulmate's same big, doe eyes.

You cleared your throat to get Jeongguk's attention.

"I let myself in, I hope you don't mind." You couldn't decipher what he was feeling. Jeongguk's voice was soft, but there was no hint of emotion there. His expression was also unreadable.

Jeongguk tore his gaze away from you when he realized that you were staring. As if this wasn't already awkward for him, you went on to say something that made him more uncomfortable.

"I've been waiting so long to meet you! Are you going to move in with me now?" You plopped down beside Jeongguk, squeezing your body between him and the arm of your sofa. Miri hissed since she was astounded by your sudden action. Actually, Jeongguk was surprised too. Your couch was pretty spacious; he didn't understand why you had to press yourself beside him.

Jeongguk also didn't know why you sounded so hopeful. The sparks in your eyes caused him to scowl; however, this didn't stop you from speaking your hopeless thoughts.

"We could do a lot of things together! I had planned everything since I was young!" You giggled. You didn't know why you were so comfortable telling him things. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you two were soulmates.

However Jeongguk was confused with your weird idea of wanting to do all of this romantic stuff with him. The uneasiness he felt couldn't be contained anymore when you abruptly talked about dating—as in dating him.

"Whoa, whoa..." He cut you off, arching his brow and moving away from you. "Slow down, will you? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh." You blushed, immediately realizing that you had gone too far. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I was just excited to meet you." You couldn't help but beam at him.

Jeongguk continued to raise his brow at you.

"Why? Are you really that desperate to find a roommate?"

It was your turn to raise a brow at him.

"N-No, I just..." You breathed in, unsure of what to say. "I'm just happy to finally meet my soulmate."

"Soulmate?"

You flinched because of the bitterness in his voice. His innocent eyes turned dark, he was glaring at you. Miri was startled once more. She jumped on your lap because she was getting scared of Jeongguk.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don't believe in soulmates." The word 'soulmate' sounded so rough coming from him, making you flinch again.

Many people had told you that you were good at gauging the feelings of other people, this was why your heart skipped a beat when you saw pain and anger crossed Jeongguk's feature. It was as if he was betrayed by someone.

"It's the most absurd thing I've heard in my entire life. Only stupid people believe in soulmates. I mean—" Jeongguk sucked in a breath. He was so annoyed that he didn't even know how to express his thoughts without breaking apart. "It's limiting the possibilities for people. Why am I required to fall in love with someone I barely know? Why should I leave the person I truly love just because a person meant to be the love of my life," he paused, quoting the words love of my life in the air. "Helped me see colors? It's like forcing me to do something I don't—no, I can't do. It's such a burden. Love can't be bought. I refuse to be with people just because they helped me."

There was silence after Jeongguk's long speech of the reasons why he didn't—or as what he claimed—couldn't love you.

Jeongguk wetted his bottom lip. The silence was making him hate himself. He hated himself because he saw the tears forming in your eyes, an obvious sign that you were hurt because of what he said. But most importantly, he hated you.

It was unlikely of him to hate someone he just met—or to simply hate anyone at all, but everything about you was making him mad as hell.

He hated your hopeful eyes, he hated your beliefs, he hated that you were the person hindering him from being with Red.

He knew it was unfair to blame you since Red chose to leave on her own, but he still couldn't help himself because the idea of soulmate was what urged her to leave.

You were Jeongguk's soulmate and for him, it meant nothing. So with a furrowed brow, he stared hard at you as he said this:

"I'm making you choose right now. Either accept me as Jeongguk, your tenant or Jeongguk, your soulmate. But just so you know, I will never stay with you if you treat me like a soulmate."

His word stung, though you were aware that the only way to make him stay was to choose the former option. At least this way, you got to be with your soulmate.

The colors you see were starting to fade away and it was okay...

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #bangtan angst #bangtan ships #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook roommate au #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook fic

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aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years

Text

If you find me on the edge, we’ll jump together

gwynriel pirate au pt 7-god may be a man but the devil comes in the form of a women

check out the other parts if you want :) pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6,

Feyre, feyre, feyre. Feyre fucking archeron. The name of the women before them reverberated through out her body, echoing against her ears, clouding every thought in her mind.

Gwyn was going to rip this bitch to shreds. why must the archeron’s be such a huge part of her life. One she consider her family, the other was love gone sour but the youngest archeron, the pain this women caused her was tenfold to anything Elain could have given her.

She hardened her self to the memories that arouse, let her anger burn through any remaining hope to salvage what they once were.

Her history with the assassin was long but her seconds was longer, she scolded herself for being so selfish.

Gwyn looked over to Nesta and struggled intensely not to go to her. To anyone else she appeared as she always did, cold, indifferent, unbothered. But gwyn saw the slight twitch of her hands, and narrow of her eyebrows. the way she dug her nails into her palms and the almost imperceptible change of her breathing. This unexpected visit had shaken her second and Gwyn knew first hand she didn’t do well when she wasn’t in control.

Nesta permitted seeing her sister all of once a year and gwyn had forced her to spend an hour with her just a few short weeks ago.

And while she was looking at Nesta, Nesta was staring at the strange interaction going on between Feyre and The Shadowsinger’s own second.

Gwyn’s mind was spinning, going over every way this could possibly go wrong, there were quite a few if shew as being honest. Her gaze cut to Azriel, his features gave away nothing except she knew recognition when she saw it.

Azriel did not know her, but Rhys sure as hell did.

Feyre’s eyes locked with Rhys’s, there was tension there, hatred even if they couldn’t look away.

“You look as radiant as ever Feyre, darling.” His voice was light, it was teasing with a hint of mockery. Although it would be impossible to dispute that Feyre was beautiful, even in the dingy light of a grotesque bar she couldn’t help but draw the eye to her.

Feyre could never be anything short of perfect. The irony of her being a trained murderer was not lost on anyone that knew her.

“You look about as well as the bottom of my shoe.” Her features were one of practiced disgust. And yet she was in a room with some of her greatest friends turned enemies and all she could do was stare at that boy. “What the hell are you doing here Rhysand?”

“I happen to find that the daily bouts of my life are none of your business anymore.” anymore. Clearly there was history here, but exactly what kind? Romantic or platonic, romantic or platonic.

Feyre stared back at him with a glare that could rival icy coldness of her sister, still clutching the lives of innocents on the thin line between life and death. A line she knew all too well.

This was going to be so fucking annoying. So gwyn took the opportunity to interrupt whatever that was, plastering a grin to her own face as she drawled, “Feyre archeron, so unlike you to be so distracted you don’t even say hello to a dear friend,” Gwyn gave her a look of mock surprise, “by a boy no less.”

She turned towards her with distain, “Yes, my apologies, hello Gwyneth. You too sister.” Nesta remained silent, thankfully, in order for all of them to walk out of here alive her second had to keep swords to herself.

“I remember mentions of a chat?” Azriel supplied quietly.

Feyre’s mood brightened, “ah yes thank you for the reminder, we were getting off track. I have a proposal.”

While she spoke, Gwyn’s eyes met Azriel’s from across the room. I know what you are about to do and I need you to please just follow my lead. Gwyn knew as well as any that the eyes told stories, she was praying that this wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

She needed her pirate enemy on her side. I’ll be damned, gwyneth berdara used the word please.

You are despicable.

You love it.

Over my dead fucking body.

No need for the language your majesty.

I’ll use whatever language I want.

Azriel inched closer to Feyre, slowly pulling out a knife.

Stop, Azriel you have to stop. gwyn pleaded with her eyes.

Why? There’s almost twenty of us.

Yeah, we would need an army of hundreds to defeat that women.

Azrie scoffed, that’s impossible.

Beyond her being the greatest assassin of our generation, she’s-

Gwyn could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. She watched as he slowly but sure connected the dots, noting the way she radiated power.

I’ll be damned, she’s fae isn’t she?

That women can kill you without even lifting a finger.

Oh Berdara are you worried for me?

Gwyn was about to respond when her senses kicked in and she noticed it was abnormally quiet. She forced her gaze away from azriel’s to find everyone staring at them.

“It’s almost as if you want me to slit their throats.” Feyre sighed. “Now are you two done?”

She stayed silent so Feyre took it to mean continue, but really Gwyn was just contemplating all the ways she could cut out her vocal cords.

“Anyways, back to my proposition. Under the law, pirates are considered criminals, however her great majesty, the queen turns a blind eye to the deeds of your...folk.” She sounded disgusted.

“And here I was under the impression that you murdered for a living.” Nesta responded.

“I murder for the sake of the greater good, you murder for fun. We are not the same.”

“You are a delusional coward.”

“And you are nothing, not even worth an insult.” Feyre laughed. “At least our imbecile of a sister had the curtesy of retaining some magic, but you dear sister could not even light a flame if your life depended on it.”

“Ah yes Feyre Archeron the greatest assassin to ever live, a puppet on a string still craving the validation of a queen who cares nothing for you. Poweful fae who falls to her knees for the very same you think yourself better than.” Rhys to his credit did not react to the clear insult.

“You, my dear sister, are so much less than nothing,” She tilted her head and smiled, repeating her words. “and you believe you are everything.” Feyre grip on the knives she was holding tightened against the throats of Tarquin and Viviane. “It’s pathetic really cause you’re the only one.”

The archeron sisters stared daggers at each other, each refusing to back down.

Gwyn’s mask changed from insane adventurer to the pirate captain she occasionally had to be.

Her voice turned icy, her posture straightened, and she clenched her jaw, “Nesta stand down.” Gwyn ordered, dominance infused in those three simple words. She turned to Feyre, “How about we discuss in private where family and ex lovers do not intervene.”

“And ex friends are better?”

“Oh Feyre, sweetie, don’t get it confused, you are clearly here for a reason, my only concern is, have you come as my enemy or as my ally?”

“Me holding your crew hostage doesn’t give you a clue?” She droned.

“I’ve known you far too long to ever be fooled into making assumptions of your intentions.”

“I’m glad somebody here has some semblance of a brain.” Feyre shot a look in Nesta’s direction and then one to Rhys. “Now I am going to let you two go,” Feyre purred. “But do not mistake that for safety. Captains come.” Gwyn rolled her eyes to Azriel

What are we dogs?

Obviously we pale in comparison to the greatness of this women.

Gwyn laughed before she could stop herself. Everyone in the silent bar turned to look at her. Gwyn stared right back refusing to be embarrassed although she felt color flushed her neck. Azriel flashed her a smile, one that would send any ordinary soul to their knees. But gwyn wasn’t any ordinary soul, right?

They followed Feyre into the back room, watching her sit on the chair like a throne before speaking, “As I was saying my queen overlooks your faults for various reasons of her own but this fairytale you are chasing must be put an end to.”

Azriel crossed his arms, “and why is that?”

“Like I said the queen has her reasons, however, she is willing to make a deal with you two.”

“No.” No, no, no. Gwyn was done with the queen. Forcing the memories down her mind reacted like a moth to a flame repeating the mantra that got her to where she was today, never again she promised herself, never again.

Feyre ignored her. “Her majesty is willing to absolve you of all your crimes and keep both The Shadowsinger and The Silver majesty extremely well off for the rest of your lives.”

“What’s the catch?” Azriel questioned.

“You pirates, always so untrusting.”

“What’s the catch?” He repeated through gritted teeth.

“You allow the huge hall to be conquered in the queens name.”

“Why would we ever do that?” Feyre was many many things but she was not an idiot. There is no reason for her to ever believe either captain would agree to the fools bargain. So she waited for her to play the rest of her hand.

Feyre laughed as if they were beneath her. “Because you need me.”

Tagging: @imsointobooks @meher-sumedha @himadrij @gwynrielsupremacy @ipsa-est-lux-plenae @flora-shadowshine @allthebooksunderthemoon @valkygwyn @bookish-isha @lattristantketchup @generalnesta (If you want to be added or removed please let me know)

#gwynriel #gwyn berdara #azriel #gwynriel pirate au #if you find me on the edge we’ll jump together #feysand #nessian #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #rhysand #cassian #emerie #pt 7

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themoonandotherslikeit · 3 years

Text

Painted - Chapter One

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Y/N has moved on, her scars are barely noticeable anymore, and she’s finally stable. Or at least she was.

10 years after the worst day of her life, Y/N found herself staring face to face with an unimaginable horror. In the wake of her worst nightmare come to life, she finds herself reunited with the man that saved her all those years ago - Agent Dean Winchester who had left her a decade before broken and wanting.

Dean Winchester has spent the last 10 years trying desperately to forget Y/N and the tragedy that he pulled her out of, but when she called asking for his help he dropped everything to come to her aid as he knew he always would.

Can Y/N and Dean solve the mystery that has resurfaced after all this time? Will they be able to resist the pull between them? Or will this be the final brush strokes on a canvas, sealing their fate for good?

No Beta currently, all mistakes are my own!

Pairing: Dean/Reader

Tags: Dark!Fic, Agent!Dean, Serial Killer Fic, Smut etc.

Chapter One

Everything has a color. To Y/N, violence was red. She pulled back her arm, her fist colliding with the heft of her punching bag with a soft thud . One, two, kick. She liked training alone, it centered her, cleared her mind. She didn’t have to worry about pulling her punches, avoiding the knees when she kicked. The biggest danger was the skin on her knuckles, which were expertly wrapped.

It all started as self defense, a way to ease her mind as she walked back to her Jeep on the dark nights, but it had evolved to something else altogether. She didn’t fight because she was afraid, she fought because she was pissed . She was pissed that she had to learn to defend herself; that other women did. She taught classes so that her community would be safe, so that they’d find less women abandoned in ditches beaten to death.

But when she was alone, it was something else completely. The why of the thing was a mystery most of the time, even to her. People used to ask her if she was afraid she would see him again. She wasn't, not really. But she kept fighting anyway, and she would be lying if his face wasn’t the one she pictured every time her fist collided with the bag.

The beat of her music throbbed in her ears like an angry heartbeat as she went for an uppercut that rattled the bag. She was panting, sweat rolling down her temple. Each hit was a beat of her heart, causing the bag to come alive. With each swing she made, it swung back at her. She was strong, and she wasn’t holding back. One, two, kick.

Her watch chimed to alert her that she hit her workout goal for the day, but she had more fire within her that needed to be extinguished. It was a long workout, even for her, but she had a lot on her mind. If she was thinking about the ache of her knuckles and burning in her biceps, she was less likely to obsess over the things she couldn’t control. So she hit the bag again and again.

The sun was starting to speckle through the blinds on the storefront window, making the sweat on her arms glisten like diamonds. She considered, just for a moment, how the coast would look against the purples and oranges of the sunrise. She could have a coffee and just enjoy the silence. Or she could keep fighting. That answer was easy. She didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty in life. She hadn’t for a long time. All of the colors had lost their brightness, the depth that he used to talk about so frequently. The thing that kept him mixing until it was just right.

She hadn’t thought of him in so long, so when the thought came to her, she didn’t react fast enough to the bag swinging back toward her from her last hit. It collided directly with her face, sending her backwards onto the mat. A loud, painful crack echoed through her skull as her nose collided with the bag. She laid there for a moment, groaning. She tried to sit up, her nose throbbing and her mouth filling with blood from the hit. “Fuck me,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Trauma was black. According to her therapist, there were different types of trauma. Y/N learned that they all could be sorted into one of three main categories: acute trauma that results from a single incident, chronic trauma that is repeated and prolonged such as domestic violence or abuse, and complex trauma which is exposure to varied and multiple traumatic events, often of an invasive, interpersonal nature. More so, there was capital T trauma and what she called little t trauma . Capital T was the big stuff, the stuff that wrecks a person in an irreparable way. Little t was less so. It is possible for a traumatized person to get over a little t trauma.

In Y/N’s life she’d seen her fair share of trauma. Probably more than a thirty-three year old woman should’ve. She’d seen trauma happen to others, happen to herself, and continue to happen in case after case that she worked. She saw trauma that others didn’t. The kind of trauma that couldn’t be seen from the outside. The kind of trauma that a person inflicts upon themselves.

She was always told that trauma healed over time, like a bruise, but for her, trauma was a cut that kept reopening. It was a scab that she couldn’t stop picking at, a bruise that seemed to deepen to a darker purple before it ever yellowed. Her eyes stung from the hit, and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

The only way she knew how to heal was to move on, leave the trauma behind. Her therapist told her to imagine herself placing the memories in a box and locking them away. Sometimes, when she was alone, she could hear that box screaming, banging, and begging to be opened. She resisted the urge, especially today.

She forced herself to stand, her head spinning. She leaned against the wall to regain her balance before she walked out to her car, her head tilted back. She could feel the blood roll down the back of her throat since it was unable to escape her nostril. She’d be pissed if she broke her nose, but, from what she could tell, it seemed intact even though it hurt like a bitch.

Her headphones were askew, but still playing her workout mix. She adjusted them and spit some blood from her mouth. She wouldn’t be thwarted by a fall; no, she wouldn’t be taken down so easily. If she fell in the gym and no one was there to witness her humiliation, did she even fall? The answer to that depended on if anyone would notice her bruised nose after the fact. If they didn’t, as far as she was concerned, she had a perfect refreshing work out with no issues whatsoever. Maybe with enough makeup her secret would remain her own.

10 years earlier

The sound of his paintbrush swiping delicately against canvas was soothing to Y/N. She sat on the edge of the bed, atop black satin sheets, resting on her hands, her back arched and her legs spread just right. Her long strawberry hair fell down her shoulders in loose waves onto the sheets.

“Just like that,” Lucifer murmured, a blonde wave falling into his eye. He was focused, his tongue partially out of his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t able to see the painting from her vantage point, but she knew what it was. It was always the same. I just can’t get you right, he’d complain, his voice laced with pain and disdain. She thought he made her more beautiful than she ever could be on her own.

When she’d met him, he was so focused on his art. He would eat, sleep, and drink his paintings. His clothing was speckled with oil colors, his fingers calloused from gripping paint brushes for hours on end. She found him sexy and mysterious. She was dying to know the man behind such beautiful pieces of art.

It didn’t take long for his obsession to shift from his art directly to her. He doted on her endlessly, showering her in flowers, candy, candlelight dinners. They made love constantly. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“Let me paint you, Y/N,” he’d purr between her legs. “I just want to paint you.” It took her weeks to say yes. She’d always brush him off, blushing and insecure. “You’re exquisite. Please let me paint you.”

She struggled to deny Lucifer’s requests when he asked as his breath tickled the inside of her thigh. It was hard to deny him of anything , if she was being honest. The first time she said yes, he arrived in her bedroom and asked her to drop the floral robe she was wearing. He’d seen her naked dozens of times, but she was still nervous, vulnerable, staring at him. She brought him a bag, insisting that he look inside before she disrobed.

He stared at the bag, confused.

“They’re body paints,” she explained. “I thought you wanted to paint me.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. They made love on the apartment floor, painting designs on each other's skin until she was swollen and wanting, gasping his name into the night.

When she woke up in the early hours of the morning, she found him painting her image onto a canvas laying splayed out, covered in swirls of sex and paint. “Don’t move,” he instructed calmly. She wanted to be angry, but she still felt drunk from being ravished, and his eyes examining her were sensual and slow. She watched his wrist spin and curl, and a chill ran up her spine.

“Lucifer, how much longer? ”

“You’re just so beautiful, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“No,” she murmured, and his eyebrows knitted together.

“We will fix that,” he promised. “You will always be this beautiful.” He was talking to her, she logically knew that, but from her vantage point she could’ve sworn he was speaking to the canvas.

Present

Y/N entered the code to unlock the front gate to her property, leaning half out her car window. Thankfully, her bleeding had stopped, but her upper lip and chin were still crusty with blood. She looked like a mess, if she was being honest, but the only one there to judge her was her chocolate brown pit bull, Castiel, and Y/N figured that Cas wouldn’t care much either way.

The iron gate opened with a groan, sliding to her right. She slid back into her seat and shifted out of park to pull forward down the driveway toward her house. It was modest, nothing too big or magnificent. The outside was grey brick, a two story home with a large green yard and a pool in the back. As she pulled up, she could already see Castiel’s nose pressed against the window, her head through the thick curtains. Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the sight. She wiggled her fingers at Castiel in a small wave.

Castiel greeted her at the door, his tail wagging excitedly. She knelt down to pet his chin only to be met with deep blue eyes and a pink tongue. “I know, buddy. I need to shower somethin’ fierce.”

She kissed his nose and murmured. “I’m good. We’re good.” Half the time she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. She locked the front door behind her and kicked off her shoes. Her arms ached and her heartbeat was still residing in her sinus from her fall. She let her hair out of the tie that kept it up in a high ponytail, letting it fall down her back. Her head was sore from her hair being up for hours. She massaged her scalp with a wince. Everything hurt and she couldn’t wait to wash her problems down the drain and start fresh.

Her work out clothes were discarded on the bathroom floor, the sound of running water and the steam accumulating in the air were already starting to soothe her. She took a deep breath in through her nose with a wince before stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind her.

Y/N faced the water, letting the heat roll down her skin. The water ran brown from sweat and blood. She braced her hands on the walls of the shower to keep herself steady. She closed her eyes, letting the baptism wash her worries away. Time has a way of wrecking a person, she knew that much. It gave a false sense of security, a sense of growth and change. She spent so much time trying to put her past behind her, locked away inside of a box.

She opened her eyes and looked at the half sleeves covering her wrists and forearms. The flowers and vines twisting around her arms, climbing, and growing out of thick, pink scars - creating something beautiful out of tragedy. She had hoped, when she got them, that they would help her heal and forget. She could laugh now at that naive girl who thought anything would let her forget. Time heals wounds, yes, but the greatest ones still ached in the cold and the rain.

Suds from soap and shampoo swirled down the drain, and she reached down to turn off the water. She wrapped her hair in a towel and slipped into her robe. She could hear Castiel whine outside of the bathroom door, unusually unhappy with not being able to see her. “You’re good, Cas,” she called out, wiping the fog from the mirror. She examined her nose. It was a little swollen and already beginning to bruise. She cursed to herself and just hoped that it’d be dull enough that her painted foundation would cover it. The last thing she needed was to worry those around her.

Castiel scratched at the door again, and she opened it, her dog circling her legs impatiently. “What is your deal?” Y/N reached down and scratched behind her ear, eliciting licks from Castiel.

Towel drying her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom and rounded the corner. Her eyes were heavy, and her head pounded from the hit. She needed coffee, bad . As she turned the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks, her towel falling from her hand. Castiel whined insistently, nudging Y/N’s leg with his nose. She stared face to face with something so familiar that it made her gut tighten, acid crawling up her throat.

A painting hung at her eye level in the hallway near the bathroom. Fine brush strokes of pale peach skin, strawberry twists of hair splayed out on black satin sheets, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and freckled legs spread out, exposing a delicate pink vagina tucked between them.

Y/N stared at herself. Her eyes closed, her swollen mouth, her pink cheeks on a face and head that belonged to her. Her freckled neck blended downwards onto heavy breasts with dark nipples and a mole under the right that she’d never seen before.

Her knees were weak, and she stumbled back, bumping into Castiel and tumbling backwards. She fell, hitting her tailbone on the wood floors with a hard smack . Tears burned in her eyes, from pain or fear she wasn’t sure. Castiel came to her, licking her cheek in concern.

Anxiety crept into her chest, pressing down heavily. She gasped for breath and clamped her eyes shut. She pictured the box inside of her mind, thrashing and pulsing with anger, begging to be opened. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she forced herself to stand on shaking legs. She made her way to her bedroom and quickly spun the code on her safe, pulling her gun from it. She clicked the safety off and held it in front of her.

With each room that she checked she only found an emptiness that overtook her home with a heaviness that seemed to engulf her completely. Nothing seemed strange or out of place other than the large depiction of her naked body that hung on her wall.

She kept her gun positioned outward and pulled out her cellphone, dialing the number that she could never forget. All she could hope for was an answer, and as a ring met her ear she let out a sigh of relief. It had been so long, she had expected a disconnected tone. She pressed the phone closer to her ear as she heard his voice.

“Y/N?”

“He’s back.”

------

Chapter Two

Read on A03 Here

Tag List: @lyarr24

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@waywardbaby @akshi8278

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secretsickysideblog · 3 years

Text

dumb lucky

"“you know my favorite color?” bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing. “anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…” “that’s cute,” bucciarati smiles, and abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “you know my favorite color.”'

a mission takes bucciarati and abbacchio all the way to a town in piedmont where bucciarati finds himself fever-riddled in the midst of a snowstorm. abbacchio finds silver linings.

(sicktember day 1 - fever)

read under the cut!

It’s only tradition for things to go wrong for Passione.

Well, perhaps that’s a lie--normally, they get dumb lucky. But this means that when things go wrong, they go incredibly wrong in multiple ways at once. It’s only fair for the amount of times the gang has narrowly escaped death by the skin of their teeth. And Abbacchio is grateful that neither he nor Bucciarati are running the risk of death right now; it could be much, much worse.

But this mission could certainly be going much better. After all, Abbacchio never thought he’d be buying fever reducers in a little town in Piedmont, Italy as a part of the job of Neapolitan Mafioso. He hadn’t expected to be led all the way to Piedmont in the first place.

Easy mission my ass, Giovanna, he laments internally, rolling his eyes as he compares the prices between on and off-brand fever reducers. Abbacchio doesn’t usually bother to buy things like this, but Bucciarati’s fever--yes, a fever that had managed to swell up to a whopping 39 degrees overnight while on a mission--definitely needs to be treated.

He settles on both bottles, and he grabs a pack of water bottles, too. Abbacchio peruses the shelves, considering what else Bucciarati might need. He’d rather not come trudging out through this snow again if he could help it; it started coming down last night and hasn’t shown any sign of stopping since. He grabs another thermometer, a can of soup, and he’s about to head to the register when he spots something else that catches his eye.

It’s a large blanket in blue--Bucciarati’s favorite shade of blue (not that Abbacchio bothers to remember things like his Capo’s favorite color), and god, does it look soft. His gaze wanders to the window. Snow falls in clumps, kicked up into a white mist by the wind, and Abbacchio could shiver just looking at it. He does shiver thinking about the short walk back to the motel through that storm.

Abbacchio sighs, runs his fingertips over the inviting fleece. A blanket couldn’t hurt.

He grabs it and tucks it under the arm without the basket only to spot that there’s another of the same in purple. And another, in ivory? Abbacchio isn’t someone tempted by luxuries, but blankets in the cold seem like a necessity.

So he picks up both. Because Bucciarati has to sweat out the fever anyway, right? He’s too out of it to be angry, anyway.

Abbacchio lugs the three heavy blankets and the basket of various other supplies to the register, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. The cashier looks over his selection as she rings up and bags each object, smiling fondly.

“Taking good care of someone, I see.”

Abbacchio huffs, lips quirking upward to a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s about time he lets me.”

“These blankets are on sale, you know. Buy one and the other is half-off,” and, in an expertly-crafted manner of egging him into it, the cashier finishes her sell with, “Everyone loves a good blanket. Perfect to cuddle up under.”

Abbacchio doesn’t anticipate growing the balls to ‘cuddle-up’ with Bucciarati, but something about the idea sways him into it. He stares at the blanket shelf in consideration for a long moment before giving in and grabbing a fourth, this one in black.

The cashier is, clearly, proud of herself. Abbacchio can’t find it in himself to get as annoyed by this as usual. He did fall for her marketing scheme, after all. Can’t bitch about it if he gave in.

Altogether, he walks out of the store with five bags slung on his arms, four of which are occupied by heavy fleece and tied off to avoid any of the snowfall. His boots feel like weights as he trudges through planes of muddy white, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. His hands are freezing--he wishes he’d bought gloves.

When he finally returns to the motel room, Bucciarati is curled up on the bed. He looks just about the same as he did when Abbacchio left which is, admittedly, like shit. His hair, lacking its typical braid, fell in uneven layers wherever it wasn’t sticking to sweat-soaked skin. The only real color in his face is across his cheeks in bright, splotchy red, and though his eyes are closed now, they’ve been glazed over all morning.

Abbacchio shakes his head in disapproval, wondering how Bucciarati managed to just ignore this, because he knows damn well it didn’t just spark overnight. He must’ve been feeling at least vaguely unwell before they’d embarked on this (unexpectedly) lengthy journey. Abbacchio tells himself, as he has every time he starts thinking about how his Capo sucks at self-care, that he’ll just bitch at him about it later; criticizing a sick person is mean, and besides, there’s not enough cognizance in his fever-addled head to comprehend annoyance right now anyway.

He unties his scarf, shrugs off his coat, and unbags the items on the small coffee table in the room. Bucciarati stirs into half-lucidity, as told by the mix of a groan and a whine that slips from him after a bit of shifting around. Abbacchio looks over to him, seeing his hazy blues blink open, and he immediately grabs the bottle of fever reducers to force down his throat now while he’s just awake enough to swallow and not awake enough to protest.

“Here,” he holds out a bottle of water and two of the pills for Bucciarati to take, which he does after taking a second to process the command. He moves sluggishly, but he manages to get the pills down and put the water bottle on the nightstand. Abbacchio feels his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning at how much he’s burning still.

He goes to pull away. Bucciarati doesn’t let him, grabbing his wrist and holding his hand there.

“What are you doing?”

“Cold,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter closed again. “Feels nice.”

Abbacchio opens his mouth, closes it. Thanks the lord above that Bucciarati can’t see the way his cheeks heat up as though he’s contracted a fever. After a moment of hesitance, Abbacchio brings both of his hands up to cup Bucciarati’s cheeks, and the other man sighs contentedly.

“Well, if it’s cold you want, maybe you should go take a nap in the snow,” Abbacchio jokes.

“Hm,” Bucciarati takes a breath. “Perhaps I should.”

Abbacchio stares down at Bucciarati. At the way his eyelashes, dark and thick, fan out across his cheeks. At his lips, still pretty and pink and miraculously not very chapped. Even now, sick as a dog, Bucciarati is gorgeous. Abbacchio could watch him forever, he’s sure, but then he realizes how creepy he’s being and abruptly pulls away. Bucciarati’s eyes open with a dejected look to them, and Abbacchio reminds himself that it’s not because it’s his hands, it’s because his hands are cold and Bucciarati is delusional with fever.

“Uh, so, I got you two kinds of fever reducer, and you’re gonna take it whether you like it or not,” Abbacchio starts to say, clearing his throat. Bucciarati hums, half-listening. “I got water. A can of soup, if you get hungry, but since you just woke up I’m sure you’re not yet.”

Bucciarati doesn’t respond, so Abbacchio assumes he’s right. He’ll make him eat something later.

“And,” Abbacchio unties the other four bags, “I know you’re not looking to get warmer, but fevers have to be sweat out, right? I got blankets. They were on sale.”

Bucciarati almost whines, though it’s quiet, subtle. Abbacchio opts to ignore it, because it does nothing good for his heart.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but look, it’s your favorite color,” Abbacchio holds up the blanket in proud display. Bucciarati looks at it, but it’s clear that he’s not fully seeing it.

“You know my favorite color?” Bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing.

“Anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…”

“That’s cute,” Bucciarati smiles, and Abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “You know my favorite color.”

Abbacchio takes the tags off the plush fabric and chucks it at Bucciarati. Bucciarati, as expected, makes no move to catch it. It takes him a minute to slip the fleece off of his head and onto his lap. This process is repeated four more times as a mountain of plush fabric piles up on the bed--the singular bed, which Abbacchio would be incredibly nervous about if this was a year ago, but they’ve been stuck in the ‘unfortunate’ one-bed scenario too many times for him to care anymore.

“This is...so many,” Bucciarati murmurs, staring down at the pile. He runs his thumb along the hem of the blue one. “They are soft, though.”

“I don’t know if you can feel how cold it is in here, much less out there,” Abbacchio gestures towards the storm just beyond the windows, “but we needed them. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck here, between your fever and the bastard we’re after.”

Bucciarati nods, absently petting the blankets. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Falling ill,” Bucciarati says it like it’s the most obvious reason to apologize in the world. “We’re stuck here. It’s my fault.”

Abbacchio rolls his eyes. “Stop apologizing for things you can’t control.”

Bucciarati looks like he wants to protest, but then his expression turns confused as if his own thought process doesn’t make sense to him anymore. Abbacchio snorts at the sight and shakes his head before climbing into bed beside the other man and urging him to lay back down.

“I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t care,” Abbacchio pulls one of the many blankets around them up to his shoulders, and another about halfway above that. He lets Bucciarati kick the others aside. “You’re warm, and I’m cold. I’m finding silver linings.”

Bucciarati chuckles a little. If he were any more coherent, he’d make a joke about Abbacchio’s usual pessimistic cynicism being an act; the latter is almost grateful, at that thought, for the fever. The wind howls outside as the storm picks up. It’s definitely not an ideal situation, but it could be much worse.

Bucciarati turns to nuzzle his face into the crook of Abbacchio’s neck. Tentatively, Abbacchio wraps an arm around him.

Maybe this was just dumb luck in disguise.

#sicktember #sicktember2021 #jjba sickfic #jjba fanfiction #jojo's bizarre adventure sickfic #bruabba #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #bruno x abbacchio #bruabba sickfic #sick!bruno #caring!abbacchio #sickfic #fever #nice first post

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

Text

i wanna hear you calling my name

kind of a continuation of this but it's not necessary to understand

Carla swore she never felt more at home than when she was at a party.

There was just something about the chaotic atmosphere that appealed to her. Perhaps it was the fact her friends would finally match her energy level, or the alcohol coursing through her system which made her feel anything was possible. Nonetheless, something insane would happen each time, giving her some unbelievable memories to figure out the next morning, and she was certain that tonight would be no exception to this usual routine. Hell, she'd been one of the organisers, so it was bound to be entertaining at least.

Actually, 'organiser' was a stretch. Kiki and Amy had done the majority of the groundwork; sending out invites, clearing space in the house and all the boring shit. Carla had done the alcohol run and bribed confirmed that the neighbours weren't going to file any noise complaints. Then, she'd set up the music and made one huge, fucking obnoxious banner reading 'Happy 2 Years Without the Wicked Bitch of McKinley!' which Amy made her later correct to 'Happy 2nd Anniversary as PTA President Amy Mitchell!' Although, on the few occasions that one of the guests complimented her handiwork, she informed them of the original design.

You see, her goal tonight was to make people laugh. She wanted, no, needed to get your attention somehow.

Speaking of, you always seemed to be at the centre of the party, constantly surrounded by an impenetrable group of friends. So it was almost impossible to get you to notice her antics- not that she was jealous or anything- Carla Dunkler didn't have enough interest to spare on anyone, regardless of how hot they were. Still, she couldn't help but glance at you every few minutes. It became an unofficial mission to catch you looking back and her. Though thus far she'd been failing miserably.

Deciding she needed to up her game, Carla downed the remainder of her drink, leaving the now empty cup behind as she marched towards the makeshift dancefloor that had formed.

"Scuse me." She shoved the first line of moms to the side (the morning joggers, so they didn't pose much of a challenge). "Coming through." Then ducked past the self-dubbed 'Karens', whom she didn't particularly want to disturb. Finally, all that remained was your group: the moms you wanna be, or fuck in this case.

"Sorry I just-" She was cut off as one of the more aggressive dancers nearly elbowed her in the face. "I just need to get through." Despite repeating with more volume, her request was equally unheard. The aggressive dancer (Lindsey, maybe?) suddenly swung her leg backwards in an obnoxiously violent move, nearly taking Carla out in the process.

Once she'd regained her balance, it became apparent that Lindsey was the weak link. She grabbed the woman's arm. "Move!" And tugged her back with the same aggression she'd been subjected to only moments ago.

Lindsey stumbled back, lost her footing and fell straight into the Karens- so she was likely screwed. But whatever fate had in store for her was inconsequential since her expulsion cleared space for her to infiltrate your group. She stepped forward into the gap with her eyes fixed on the floor, careful not to tread on anyone's toes. She'd come so far, being kicked out simply wasn't an option.

"Hey!" A friendly voice convinced her to look up. It was you. "Carla, right?" Your face was flushed from both alcohol and the heat of the party, which on most people would look pretty unappealing, but on you it had the opposite effect.

"Yeah, that's me." She flipped her hair over her shoulders, this part was her specialty. "Dance with me?" She asked, or rather stated.

"Sure!" With drunk confidence, one of your hands sought out Carla's, immediately pulling her into the middle of the group. There wasn't much space, but that could only work in her favour.

Unsurprisingly, the confidence carried over into your dancing, though it was anything but unwarranted. You swayed your hips in time with the music, the movement travelling up through the rest of your body, and admittedly, you were a damn good dancer. Carla even found herself repeatedly distracted, forgetting that she was meant to be seducing you, not the other way around.

Another mom bumped into her which she took as an excuse to move closer. At that point you were spinning round, but feeling her close the distance, you decided to stop when your back pressed against her front. Carla's breath was stolen from her as you started grinding. There was barely any distance between you. With each inhale she could smell your perfume, and with each exhale, her breath mingled with yours. It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. She loved it.

Her hands snaked round your waist upon regaining a modicum of self control, brushing up and down your sides with the rhythm. Sometimes you would encourage her by placing your hands over hers, guiding them to wherever you desired, and for once she was more than happy to let someone else take the lead. Eventually she gained the courage to press her lips to the skin of your neck, which motivated you to let your head fall back onto her shoulder. Her mouth then trailed down to your exposed collarbones, though she longed to go further. Each kiss was messy, leaving behind a wet trail, but shit it was perfect. You were perfect.

The rest of the room seemed to melt away in the heat of the moment. Carla was certain she'd never wanted anything- or anyone more in her life than right now. Desire burned increasingly hot in the pit of her stomach, yet there was no rush. Amy had told Kiki once, while she was drunk because that's when Amy's at her most wise, that she ought to live in the moment more. And although the advice didn't necessarily apply to Carla, that's exactly what she was doing anyway. Upon first laying eyes on you earlier in the evening, she'd decided it was time to make a move, time to finally quench the insatiable crush she'd had on you for the past year. And she was going to enjoy every second of it.

As Carla grabbed the back of your head, the world around her seemed to move in slow motion. Still you caught on quickly enough, leaning in the direction with closed eyes. Your lips clashed together urgently, both moaning at the first real taste of the other, the first taste of what was to come. Carla was practically devouring your mouth, desperate to show off despite the awkward angle. Though clearly it worked as you abandoned dancing a minute later to turn around and grab hold of her. Your hands shifted up to cup her face and the kiss slowed, becoming sweet rather than bruising.

She broke away to drag her tongue along to your ear. "My house or yours?"

"Who said we need a house?" You scoffed. "My car's parked right outside."

#carla dunkler x reader #carla dunkler #kathryn hahn x reader

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poetdreamerfool · 2 years

Text

2022 Freestyle Series #4

Airbending 🌬🔥💥

life is hard with cops in the way graduating college is like invading Ba Sing Se the way I airbend is just insane there's magic in my lungs in the puffs of mary jane third eye red as I'm walking the planes I learned how to pick my poison getting grandma the cane now my switches is nintendo I channel the pain went from fruit of the looms to gucci but I settled on hanes I'll take all the flaws you don't need to be saved slide off in the bruce wayne I'll meet you at the cave cops got me walking on eggshells on the edge of a blade but I am who I be at the day blackty black raps in the yak back parappa the rappa beat that repeat that kick punch turn chop the door then I bounce back a little pathfinder kingmaker and an ounce pack you can count that running man doing the running man my rhyme book is a menace to society during the summer of sam I think I can I think I can I think therefore I am watching all that's spin off ka-blaam on youtube with the fam life's grand - I'm more religous then I probably look with these samson locks and this burning of bush its like david meets goliath when I'm stoned on the mic the forbidden fruits ripe these fools would bite it for likes grind like the princess in another castle took it from the slave getting whipped to whipping tassles in loving color floating on hate the big wigs is still hungry with food on their plate rapping while I draw its like an avatar state hear the beat and I go apeshit irate Wait while i naviagate the waters I can see you hidin whats a shark to posiedon whats posideon to zeus what's zeus to a man with a plan and some dirt on his hands play the reaper and I'll hit you mass effect you'll be pressing select gasping for breath wondering what's next -- cops shots left you a beat you can step to get up to creatively expressed through words, movement, and tears; vision clear on cloud 10 conquering fear gonna put it in a jar and keep that shit near watching the news is like Odyssius at the seer its clear it don't mater who the potus is I'm focused like a cyclops disregard the lotuses words is weapons and I reloaded it my brother the universe is talking and I quoted it invested in my self and I floated it flipped the script and I rewrote it bitch I shoot to win I don't shoot to miss I aint never had a pot to piss but I had pot and was pissed we live in hell but vacation in bliss our freedom is nothing with a twist word to kurt my squad down like Earnie word to bert.

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 103

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,320ish

Summary: The team goes to Sokovia to fight Ultron.

“I can’t enter your head anymore,” Wanda stated, standing in front of Y/N.

Y/N had placed herself so that she wasn’t seated near anyone on the quinjet. Her head snapped up at Wanda’s sudden appearance.

“It’s like… something wanted me in there just that once and now I’m not allowed anymore,” Wanda continued. “How is that possible?”

“You show what I’m capable of,” Y/N responded, quietly. “I can’t freeze a whole room of super heroes. Get them to do my bidding…”

“Yes, but how? Does it have anything to do with what Thor was saying?”

“Leave her alone,” Tony ordered, coming up in his Iron Man suit, helmet down.

“I’m just trying to—“

“I don’t care what you’re trying to do. Y/N needs a break and time to prepare for what we’re walking into.” Wanda nodded, walking away, and Tony knelt down in front of Y/N. She looked away as he took her hands. “You going to be okay?” He asked quietly.

“Maybe if everyone would let me be for a second, I would be,” she responded, quietly as well.

“Can you look at me, honey? Please?”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t want to look at any of you until after this is over… even then, I don’t know if I really want to…��

“Steve’s just upset cause he feels everyone’s been keeping secrets.”

“And you didn’t do anything to stop him.” Y/N looked at him, eyes full of tears. “You didn’t try to understand or stand up for me…. Why?” Tony immediately felt guilty as Y/N’s voice cracked. “I thought— I don’t know why I even thought that a future would be possible…” She shook her head, looking up at the ceiling of the quinjet. “I’ve seen what is to come….”

“Y/N, you can’t be serious—“

“Stark,” Steve called. “We’re here.”

“One second, Cap, we’re kind of—“ But Y/N disappeared though a portal. “Damn it.”

Y/N had needed a second to herself, so she disappeared into the Sokovia woods. Where they had fought HYDRA before retrieving the scepter. She let out a loud, frustrating scream.

“I don’t want this!” Y/N screamed, falling to her knees. “Take this.” She clenched her eyes shut. “I don’t want to know what I know, have what I have… please, somebody, help me…”

“I have,” the Ancient One’s voice came out of no where. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, she looked around to see that she was standing in the Mirror Dimension. “I will continue to help you.”

“Can you take this away? Give this burden to someone else? It’s tearing me apart—tearing my relationships apart! I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. That’s why you’ve been saved. Y/N, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“That was the cheesiest, most unhelpful thing you’ve ever said.”

The Ancient One chuckled. “Yes, but that doesn’t make it any less true… Y/N.” The woman stepped forward. “You can do this. But for todays battle, you need to put the future aside, focus on the task at hand. Or there will be no future, for anyone.”

~~~

The team had begun an evacuation of the city. Tony and Vision were headed for Ultron, who was waiting in the church. And Bruce went to rescue Natasha.

“Has anyone seen, Y/N?” Steve called through the comms.

“Not since she disappeared,” Tony replied. “FRIDAY, try accessing Y/N’s comms.”

“On it, boss,” the new AI responded. “It seems that she is in the woods, just outside the city.”

“The woods?” Steve and Tony repeated.

“You’ve pushed her too far,” Thor said, with a shake of his head. “You two shouldn’t have—“

“I’m fine, guys,” Y/N interrupted, making her way out of the woods. “Thanks for the concern but can we focus on the task at hand?”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N?” Steve asked.

“Are you asking cause you really care, or out of familial obligation?”

“Y/N—“

“Not now guys,” Clint scolded. “Stop Ultron now, family problems later.”

“Agreed,” Y/N said. “I’m just exiting the woods. Where do you want me?”

“Help with the evacuation,” Steve ordered. “If you could, um… if you could persuade them to leave—“

“You mean use my mind powers to get them to go?”

Steve sighed. “Yes. It would be helpful.”

“Don’t drain yourself too much,” Tony added.

“Channel the Stone,” the Vision offered.

Y/N hurried further into the city. Closing her eyes, she focused on the Mind Stone and the people in the buildings surrounding her.

“Leave,” she commanded them, in their thoughts. “Leave and don’t look back.”

She had moved to her third block with the attacks started. Her eyes were closed, so she didn’t notice an Ultron bot coming at her. The bot kicked her back, throwing her tumbling forward.

“Uh, guys,” Y/N called over the comms, “anyone else getting attacked by mini Ultrons?”

“Keep the fight away from the people!” Steve ordered.

The Ultron bot began blasting at Y/N. Using the portals, she sent the blasts back at it. Successfully hitting it. But then two more showed up. As she fought them, the ground began shaking. Y/N could hear Tony asked FRIDAY what’s going on.

“Sokovia’s going for a ride,” the AI responded.

“Do you see? The beauty of it, the inevitability,” Ultron said, through his bots. “You rise, only to fall. You, Avengers, you are my meteor. My swift and terrible sword and the earth will crack with the weight of your failure. Purge me from your computers, turn my own flesh against me. It means nothing. When the dust settles, the only thing living in this world will be metal.”

The ground continued to shake as Sokovia was being lifted into the air. Y/N took out the bots near her, trying to help the citizens at the same time.

“The Vibranium core has got a magnetic field, that's what's keeping the rock together,” FRIDAY explained, to the whole team.

“If it drops?” Tony asked.

“Right now the impact would kill thousands. Once it gets high enough: Global extinction.”

A child began screaming as an Ultron bot came up to it. Quickly, she portaled herself over the shielding the child as the bot started firing. Opening another portal, she rushed through with the child in her arms. Y/N wasn’t quick enough though. With a scream, Y/N fell forward, still trying to shield the child from the fall. The bot had fired at them, successfully hitting Y/N’s leg as her and the child went through the portal. The child scrambled away as Y/N looked at her leg. It was bleeding and burned, but she still had a job to do.

“Cap, you got incoming,” Tony warned.

“Incoming already came in,” Steve grunted.

“Stark, you worry about bringing the city back down safely. The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed… walk it off.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw my leg right now, Captain,” Y/N tried to joke, wincing as she stood up.

“What?!” Tony panicked. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’ve been worse, I’ve been better. It’s bleeding and burned. But a child is saved, so—“

“Don’t move. I’ll be there soon.”

“No, Tony, I—“

“Stark, we need her help,” Steve interrupted. “Y/N, do you think you can survive?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, breathing heavily. “I think I’ll manage.”

Using all the strength she could gather, Y/N fought off all of the bots near her. Breathing more heavily than she had been before, which she didn’t think was possible, she leaned against a building.

“Alright, we’re all clear here,” Clint told everyone.

“We are not clear!” Steve rushed to respond. “We are very not clear!”

“Alright, coming to you.”

“On my way too,” Y/N replied.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N created a portal to the bridge, or what used to be a bridge. She stumbled into a car, trying to keep herself up. Natasha and Steve were just finishing up the bots near them.

“The next wave's gonna hit any minute,” Steve stated. “What have you got, Stark?”

“Well, nothing great,” Tony answered. “Maybe a way to blow up the city. That'll keep it from impacting the surface if you guys can get clear.”

“I asked for a solution, not an escape plan.”

“Impact radius is getting bigger every second… We're going to have to make a choice.”

“Cap, these pool are going nowhere,” Natasha said. “If Stark finds a way to blow this rock—“

“Not ’til everyone’s safe,” Steve demanded.

“Everyone up here versus everyone down there?” Y/N asked, making her presence known. She limped toward them. “There’s no math there.”

“I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it.”

“I didn’t say we should leave.”

“There's worse ways to go,” Nat added with a shrug. “Where else am I gonna get a view like this?”

“Glad you like the view, Romanoff,” Fury teased over the comms. “It’s about to get better.” A helicarrier rose from above.

“Thank you, Coulson,” Y/N whispered with relief.

“Nice, right? I pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She's dusty, but she'll do.”

“Fury, you son of a bitch,” Steve smiled.

“Oooh! You kiss your sister with that mouth?”

“This is SHIELD?” Pietro asked as the lifeboats flew towards the city.

“This is what SHIELD's supposed to be,” Steve answered.

“This is not so bad.”

“Let’s load ‘em up.”

The group split up, hurrying civilians to the lifeboats. The second wave of bots hit as they were doing so.

“Thor, I got a plan!” Tony shouted.

“We’re out of time,” Thor stated. “They’re coming for the core.”

“Rhodey, get the rest of the people on board that carrier.”

“On it,” Rhodey replied.

“Avengers, time to work for a living.”

Y/N portaled her self to the church, immediately grabbing onto the wall to support herself. Her energy was basically drained. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

“Y/N?” The Vision rushed to her. “Take my hand.”

“I’m good, I’m good,” she swatted his outreached hand away. “I just need a second.”

“The Stone will give you some strength.”

“I’ll be—“

“Do it,” Thor demanded. “You need all the strength you can get.”

Slowly, Y/N placed her hand into the Vision’s. Also instantly, she felt better.

“Thanks,” she said, removing her hand.

The Vision nodded, moving away as Iron Man landed. He made is way to Y/N.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“I’m fine,” Y/N nodded.

“FRIDAY, give me a reading on her stats.”

“Tony.”

“Agent Rogers is currently running on good energy levels,” FRIDAY began. “The injury to her left leg is still bleeding. If not treated soon, an infection may form from it.”

“You should get on the helicarrier,” Tony said.

“Not a chance.”

Tony sighed, knowing it wasn’t worth the fight. “Romanoff? You and Banner better not be playing hide the zucchini.”

“Relax, Shell-head,” Nat responded in everyone’s ear. “Not all of us can fly.” She drove up in a tractor, jumping out to join the rest of the team. “What’s the drill?”

“This is the drill,” Tony pointed to the Vibranium core. “This is the drill. If Ultron gets a hand on the core, we lose.”

Ultron showed up, slowly hovering down to them.

“Is that the best you can do?” Thor shouted.

Lifting his metal hand, Ultron summoned his army to join him.

“You had to ask,” Steve sighed.

Ultron held his arms out. “This is the best I can do,” he stated. “This is exactly what I wanted. All of you, against all of me. How could you possibly hope to stop me?”

“Well, like the old man said,” Tony paused, him and Steve looking at each other. “Together.”

The Hulk roared and the next fight began. Everyone was surrounding the core, fighting off every bot that dared to try and reach it. Thor, the Vision, and Tony had the main Ultron bot cornered outside.

“You know,” Ultron began, “with the benefit of hindsight—“

He didn’t get to finish because the Hulk knocked him far away. Ultron’s army began to retreat.

“They’ll try to leave the city,” Thor said.

“We can’t let ‘em, not even one,” Tony stated. “Rhodey!”

“I’m on it,” Rhodey responsed.

“We gotta move out,” Steve ordered. “Even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats, I'll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you.”

“What about the core?” Clint asked.

“I’ll protect it,” Wanda offered. “It’s my job.”

Steve ran out one way while Natasha and Clint ran another. Y/N followed her brother.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“Right now, protecting your ass,” she responded.

“You need to get to the lifeboats.”

“And you should have learned by now that I don’t follow your orders well. I’m staying, Steve. We’re in this together.”

The swept the streets, looking for the last of the civilians and guiding them to the lifeboats. They met up with Thor as they headed towards the lifeboats.

“Thor, I’m gonna need you back in the church,” Tony said.

“Is this the last of them?” Thor asked the twins.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “Everyone else is on the carrier.”

“You know, if this works, we maybe don’t walk way,” Tony stated.

“Maybe not,” Thor replied.

“What? No. Wait,” Y/N rushed. “No, Tony. You’re getting out of this we all are getting out of this.”

“Honey, you know our job isn’t that simple,” Tony said.

“I’m coming to you then. Where are you? You’ll do what you need to do and I’ll portal us onto the helicarrier.”

Suddenly, a quinjet began flying over, shooting down at everyone. Thor, Steve, and Y/N were thrown onto the ground. Y/N looked up to see Pietro standing in front of Clint and a little boy. He had red marks all over him. He quickly collapsed onto the ground. Thor flew off to the church while the twins rushed over to Pietro and Clint. Clint set the little boy down and checked Pietro’s pulse. The look he gave the twins gave them all they needed to know.

“No,” Y/N gasped, tears filling her eyes. She shook her head. “No.”

Clint grabbed the little boy and Steve grabbed Pietro. They hurried to the nearest lifeboat. Y/N stood off the lifeboat, looking around for anyone else as Clint gave the little boy to his mother and Steve set Pietro’s body down. Steve joined his twin.

“Tony,” Y/N called. “Tony, I’m not leaving you.”

“Y/N, I love you—“

The ground suddenly began dropping. Steve grabbed Y/N, who was kicking and screaming, and jumped onto the lifeboat.

“No!” She screamed, looking down at the city that was falling from the sky.

“Thor, on my mark,” Tony instructed. “Now!”

The city blew to pieces.

“Tony! Tony!” Y/N cried into the comms. “Tony—“

“I’m here, honey,” he replied. “I’m here…” A sob cracked through her mouth. “It’s okay. Stay with Steve. I’m on my way.”

Steve guided Y/N into the helicarrier. He quickly noted how bad her limp was.

“Let’s get you to the med-bay,” he said.

All she did in response was nod, which made her brother sigh. Steve led her to the med-bay and got her settled into a bed as a nurse began to check her out. He sat down in a chair beside her. Leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him, Steve watched Y/N. She kept her eyes closed, trying to get some rest without completely falling asleep just yet.

“Say what you need to say, Stevie,” Y/N said. “Your thoughts are giving me a headache.”

“That’s the thing… when were you going to tell any of us about the sudden mind powers?” Steve asked.

Y/N sighed. “When the time was right.”

“And the Infinity Stones.”

“When the time was right.”

Steve scoffed. “So never.”

“I didn’t keep my portals a secret. I wouldn’t have the mind powers either.”

“But the Infinity Stones? You would keep your knowledge of those a secret.”

“For everyone else’s safety yes.”

“How much do you know about them?”

“I—“

“There you are,” Tony came rushing up to the twins. “How are you? Have they seen you yet? How’s your leg?”

“I’m fine, Tony.” She smiled softly at his worries. “Just come here.” Her hands were on his neck, forcing him down into a kiss. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

“Agent Rogers,” Fury called, coming into the room. “May I have a word?”

“She’s a little busy at the moment,” Tony replied. “Whatever you need to do can wait.”

“No, it can’t.” Fury stared at Y/N.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, squeezing Tony’s hand. “Why don’t you and Steve make sure everyone else is okay and find me some food?”

“I think I’d rather stay,” Tony responded.

“Please, Tony. I’ll be right here, waiting for you to return.”

Tony met Y/N’s gaze. He looked long and hard before giving in with a sigh and a nod. He leaned forward and gave her another kiss.

“We’ll be right back,” he promised. “Come on, Cap.”

The two men left, leaving Y/N alone with Fury.

“You needed something?” Y/N wondered, raising a brow at Fury.

“You’re needed, requested immediately,” Fury stated.

“By?”

“You know I can’t say.”

Y/N nodded, knowingly. “Immediately?”

“They need help explaining the helicarrier and Sokovia.”

“Where?”

“Gonzalez has a ship in the middle of the Atlantic. Hill’s preparing a quinjet for a fly over so you can portal yourself onto the deck.”

“You know the team won’t be happy about this.”

“I don’t care. You have an hour.”

~~~

“What?!” Tony exclaimed. “You just got finished saving the world, you have injured leg and they’re expecting you to leave?! Na-uh, no way. You’re not leaving my sight for a month.”

“I have to go help clear some things up,” Y/N sighed. “This wasn’t my call.”

“You’re not going.”

“I have to.”

“No you don’t!”

“I need to make sure Skye’s okay. We haven’t been able to check in because of all this Ultron stuff. I need to make sure Gonzalez isn’t going to try anything.” She grabbed Tony’s hand. “Plus… I need a break from Steve’s glares and questions. I won’t be long.”

“The minute you get home, we’re leaving. Taking a break, you got it?”

“I got it. I love you.”

Tony leaned down and kissed Y/N. “I love you too.”

~~~

“Rogers,” Maria called, piloting the quinjet, “we’re over the ship. I’m opening the hatch now.” The quinjet ramp began to lower. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Maria!” Y/N shouted over the wind. “You too.”

Looking down at the deck, Y/N opened a portal onto it. Coulson was there at the door, waiting for her.

“Nice to see you in one piece,” Coulson smiled, eyes checking Y/N over.

“It’s good to see you too, Phil,” she smiled back at him. She followed him through the door and into the ship. “Tony’s not really happy about this.”

“Not surprised.”

“He might be calling you.”

“He already has.”

“Of course,” Y/N chuckled. “Where’s the rest of the welcome party?”

“Waiting in the conference room. You ready to explain everything?”

“I’ll explain what I have to, not everything.”

Coulson studied Y/N as they walked. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

“Phil—“

“I know, I know. Not now. But later. We’re definitely going to talk about it later.” Y/N nodded as Coulson stopped at a door, hand going to the handle. “You ready?”

“They’re the ones that need to be ready.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#avengers x reader #the avengers x reader #tony stark x reader #iron man x reader #tony stark #Tony Stark fanfiction #tony stark imagine #Iron Man #iron man fanfiction #The Avengers #Avengers #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

Text

BeeTober 2020 Day 6

Shards - Foliage

Day 6 of BeeTober brings me back to Xicheng and some simple fluff and misunderstandings.

Jiang Cheng feels like he’s slowly losing his mind. His whole table is groaning under the weight of the letters—the proposals—and Jiang Cheng wants to get up and strangle every single member of his Sect who had a hand in this.

He doesn’t want to marry. He never wanted to marry, and he thought he had made that very clear.

Jiang Cheng puts his head in his hands when he remembers the exact words he uttered all those years ago, and belatedly he realizes that he shouldn’t have put a condition on his refusal.

‘I will not marry until Jin Ling ascends as Sect Leader’ he had said and it’s now biting him in the ass.

But Jiang Cheng counted on Jin Guangyao staying alive long beyond the reasonable age, simply because he seemed to be exactly that kind of petty bitch. Who would have thought that he would get violently murdered by none other than Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang, after all.

“Damn it,” Jiang Cheng mutters, as his eyes yet again fall on the imposing mountain of letters.

Jiang Cheng knows about his reputation, knows what the other cultivators think of him, and so the sheer amount of letters is surprising.

Jiang Cheng had hoped that by now his reputation would work as a repellent to every willing person, but it seems like he can’t even rely on that anymore.

“Have you made a decision yet?” a voice carries inside his study and Jiang Cheng’s head snaps up.

“What do you think?” he yells back, and going by the telling silence his disciple is clever enough to flee at his sharp words.

Jiang Cheng cannot reasonably refuse each and every single proposal, he knows that. There’s not even a way to do it without angering any Sects, because if he chooses one, it will be an insult to the others.

But not choosing at all is also not an option, because then the proposals will just keep coming, and soon enough they will be hand-delivered in person.

Jiang Cheng would rather drown himself than have that happen.

Jiang Cheng puts his head in his hands again, trying to calm himself down with deep breaths, but it’s not working too well.

He only ever wanted to marry for love; wanted to avoid a marriage like his parents shared, but he knows that’s not in it for him anymore.

His heart—his stupid, stupid heart—is set on Lan Xichen after all, has been since the lectures at the Cloud Recesses, but Jiang Cheng has known for just as long that it’s futile.

Lan Xichen has never looked at him in that kind of way; instead he made it a point to stay away from Jiang Cheng for most of the years, not that Jiang Cheng can begrudge him that.

Their personalities do tend to clash and while Jiang Cheng always thought it exciting and invigorating the scarce times it happened, it’s not hard to imagine that Lan Xichen rather dislikes it.

Jiang Cheng mentally scolds himself—not for the first time that day—and forces himself to at least sift through the proposals.

He can form piles: I’d rather not and abso-fucking-lutely not.

The thought amuses Jiang Cheng so much, that he reaches for the next proposal, but as soon as his eyes fall on the seal—the personal sign of Sect Leader Yao—he loses it.

This is the third proposal from his Sect Jiang Cheng held in his hands in the last twenty minutes and it’s enough to drive everyone insane.

So instead of compiling piles like he just decided on, he sweeps his arms over the table, sending all the proposals flying through the room, until they are scattered around him like shards.

Jiang Cheng thinks he would prefer shards over this never-ending torture, and he has half a mind just burning his whole study to the ground, when his eyes fall on a blue proposal, sporting the somewhat familiar seal of the Cloud Recesses.

Jiang Cheng frowns but he can’t help but be intrigued by it. He wonders just whose hand in marriage Lan Qiren is offering to him, and before he even finishes the thought, Jiang Cheng has reached for the proposal.

He thumbs the seal a few times, before he finds the courage to break it, because he knows that no matter whose name he wishes to read in it, it won’t happen. Lan Xichen doesn’t feel that way about him after all.

Jiang Cheng scans the proposal and when his eyes fall on the name Lan Qiren proposes, Jiang Cheng is glad that he’s already sitting down.

This must be a mistake.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is pacing the pier, impatiently waiting for Lan Xichen to arrive, the outrageous proposal still tightly clutched in his hands.

Jiang Cheng has come to terms with the fact that Lan Xichen will never be the one for him a long time ago and so the spark of hurt that Lan Qiren would dangle something that he can’t have in front of him is tiny enough that it’s almost entirely buried under Jiang Cheng’s rage.

He feels outraged on Lan Xichen’s behalf, that Lan Qiren would offer him up like some live-stock and he’s going to inform Lan Xichen about his uncle’s improper proposal at once.

Jiang Cheng is on his seventeenth time pacing the pier when the boat with Lan Xichen finally comes into view.

Jiang Cheng lets out a relieved sigh because Lan Xichen seems to be alone, like Jiang Cheng requested in his letter to the other Sect Leader. He doesn’t want word to get out that Lan Qiren is trying to marry Lan Xichen off to Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Xichen greets him as soon as he steps onto the pier but Jiang Cheng is too furious to bother with niceties.

“Your uncle has gone too far,” he says, proposal still tightly clenched in his hands and Lan Xichen looks at him in confusion.

“What could he possibly have done to make you think so?” Lan Xichen wants to know and Jiang Cheng shoves the proposal at him.

“He’s trying to marrying you off like you’re some—some cattle to be rid of,” Jiang Cheng seethes, and Lan Xichen carefully plucks the letter out of Jiang Cheng’s hands.

Lan Xichen reads it over carefully and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes when Lan Xichen’s face falls.

He seems sad more than anything and Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand that. He should be seething with rage, like Jiang Cheng is.

“Ah, I see,” Lan Xichen says and then takes a step back to bow deeply to Jiang Cheng. “I apologize,” he goes on and now the anger makes way for confusion.

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” Jiang Cheng demands to know and Lan Xichen smiles sadly at him.

“I thought that since my previous proposals have all gone unanswered, I would try the official channels now. But I realize my mistake and I apologize to you for causing you distress.”

Jiang Cheng blinks, because those words in that configuration simply don’t make any sense at all and he slightly shakes his head when his confusion only grows with every second that Lan Xichen doesn’t laugh and tell him it’s all just a joke.

“Your what?” Jiang Cheng asks and his voice is fainter than he would like it to be, but his heart is hammering away in his chest, and butterflies are filling his stomach to an almost dangerous level.

“My previous proposals,” Lan Xichen repeats, and it makes as much sense as the first time he said it. “Of marriage and then later of a courtship.”

“I have no clue what you are talking about,” Jiang Cheng admits and now it’s Lan Xichen’s turn to blink in surprise at him.

“Oh,” he whispers and then Jiang Cheng has to watch as his ears turn red.

Jiang Cheng could die, he loves this man so much.

“Care to explain?” he snaps at Lan Xichen, much rougher than he intended in his need to overcompensate for his truly mushy thoughts and Lan Xichen is trying to kill him, surely, because the blush seeps into his cheeks.

“I have sent several marriage proposals to you, over the years. When they went unanswered but not refused, I thought I should start smaller with the offer of a proper courtship. You never replied to those either, and I am able to take a hint. It might take me longer than other people but I get there eventually,” Lan Xichen explains and there is so much self-deprecation in his voice that Jiang Cheng has to bite back his anger at every single person who ever made Lan Xichen believe that.

“So I kept my distance from you, since I didn’t wish to burden you further with my clearly unwanted feelings. But now your Elders announced that you’ll be looking for a spouse now, and I thought I would have more success if my uncle approved of this union.”

Jiang Cheng feels faint with everything that Lan Xichen has just said and when his silence drags on for so long that Lan Xichen attempts a bow again, Jiang Cheng’s hands reach out to grasp his forearm.

“I have never seen those proposals,” Jiang Cheng promises him, desperate to have Lan Xichen believe him. “I told my Elders that I wouldn’t marry before Jin Ling ascends as Sect Leader and that if I even so much as catch a glimpse of any proposals I would drown them all in the lakes.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes flit to the side, taking in the water, and when he looks back at Jiang Cheng, there’s a small smile playing around his mouth.

“I think the foliage is too thick for anyone to drown here,” he says, a playful note in his voice and Jiang Cheng dares to let out a relieved breath.

“I can throw them really far,” he gives back and it’s only when Lan Xichen laughs at that, that Jiang Cheng releases him.

“I truly didn’t know about that,” Jiang Cheng reiterates again and he thinks he doesn’t imagine the hopeful look on Lan Xichen’s face.

“Your reaction kind of gives me hope that my feelings are in fact not unreciprocated,” Lan Xichen says as he takes a tentative step forwards.

Jiang Cheng wants to do nothing more but to tell him that they are so reciprocated, but there is one thing he has to clear up first.

“I’m not going to leave my Sect,” he says, and he forces himself to sound firm. “If this is going to work, you’d have to come here.”

Jiang Cheng knows that it’s unlikely that Lan Xichen will agree to that, but Jiang Cheng did not rebuild his Sect from nothing only to leave it in the end. No matter if it’s for love or not.

“I know that,” Lan Xichen reassures him and takes Jiang Cheng’s hand in his. “Do you really think my uncle would have allowed this if he wouldn’t approve of it? Lan Jingyi will be Sect Leader; he’s too young now, but the Elder’s will guide him and I will be his advisor. He knows this and everything has already been arranged in case you should agree.”

There’s a heavy pause, during which Lan Xichen doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Do you agree?” he then dares to ask and there is so much naked hope in his voice that Jiang Cheng aches with it.

“Of course I do,” he rushes to reassure Lan Xichen. “Jin Ling was never the real reason I didn’t marry,” he confesses to Lan Xichen and threads their hands together. “I didn’t want to marry because the only one I could see myself marrying was you. And I thought that was highly unlikely to happen, so—,” he trails off with a shrug and Lan Xichen laughs.

“Not as unlikely as I thought it to be that you would answer one of my proposals one of these days.”

“Well, I am answering it now,” Jiang Cheng decides and tugs on Lan Xichen’s hand. “In fact, I’m going to write that letter to Lan Qiren right now,” he tells Lan Xichen, who doesn’t move a single inch.

“What?” Jiang Cheng asks, a tiny voice in his head telling him that of course this was too good to be true, but when Lan Xichen gives him a mischievous look that voice dies right out.

“I think before you write to my uncle we should seal this agreement,” Lan Xichen tells him and tugs Jiang Cheng closer to himself.

Jiang Cheng is embarrassed to admit that he almost stumbles into Lan Xichen’s chest, but when Lan Xichen puts a hand to his hip to stabilize him—and to keep him close—Jiang Cheng can’t find it in him to mind.

“And what kind of seal do you have in mind?” Jiang Cheng asks, now that he finally caught up to Lan Xichen’s words, and he itches to kiss the smirk right off Lan Xichen’s lips.

“I think you know,” Lan Xichen whispers, leaning almost close enough for their lips to brush and Jiang Cheng stops fighting his own wishes and simply leans in to kiss Lan Xichen.

He doubts there has ever been a sweeter acceptance of a marriage proposal.

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#bt writes #beetober 2020 #untamed fall fest #the untamed #mdzs #xicheng #fluff #marriage proposal #love confession #getting together #misunderstandings

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whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

Smoke & Mirrors - part 2

Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: What kind of man

(see chapter 1)

summary: the matchmaking trio changes their strategy, and you end up on a sparring mat with Neil

warnings: language and other explicit things, 18+ and I MEAN IT

author’s note: ...you know what? I don’t want to take any responsibility for where this chapter ended up going. Those characters have mind of their own and at this point I can just write it down and try not to die on the way. (I know it’s far from what we’ve discussed A, but it’s best I could do with what these two had given me, promise to do better next time)

The song for this chapter is Florence + The Machine - “What kind of man” (changed from “Undisclosed desires”, don’t ask me, I don’t know either)

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

___

“...and you really think this is a good idea?”

“It sure beats yours,” said Ives and took a sip from his cup.

TP huffed and smacked his arm. “Hey, I thought it was our idea!”

“What matters is,” - Wheeler chimed in, fighting a losing battle to hide the annoyance in her voice - “it was a terrible one, and we have to do better if you want them to not get each other killed on the field.”

Ives pondered for a while. When he looked at Wheeler, his eyes were full of concern. “Honestly? This sounds like a recipe for someone getting hurt.”

She kept forgetting how protective he could be over his friend. Although this time, she thought, the one at risk was definitely Neil.

Wheeler smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, it’s gonna work.”

_________________

There was a certain peace in the emptiness of the HQ’s shooting range in the early morning. It always helped you clear your head - there was no place for emotions while you were holding a gun. And you always knew when to come there to be alone.

At least up until today.

Just as you finished your routine and grabbed your bag, the door opened and you were greeted by the smirk from under the messy blonde mane.

Bloody perfect.

A week had passed since the bar encounter, seven long days filled with Neil’s tiresome presence during your work time. If it wasn’t a merged mission of your squads, there were training sessions. The shooting range was your last place free from the walking reminder of your recent failure.

Not anymore, apparently.

“Going out already? Too bad, I was hoping to get some tips from you.”

“Aim and pull the trigger. Repeat. It’s really that simple,” you said, shrugging.

The blue eyes narrowed behind yellow-tinted lenses of the safety glasses as Neil sent a forced smile your way. “Never would have guessed,” he deadpanned.

You passed by him, not willing to allow him to get under your skin. But then, just as you were about to exit the room, you stopped and cursed internally at yourself. Closing the door and turning around, you placed your bag quietly on the ground and leaned back against the wall. With your arms crossed, you watched Neil as he prepared his pistol and started the practice.

You studied his posture, the way he held the gun in his gloved hands, trying to find any weak points in his technical side. There wasn’t too much to improve, his problem with shooting during the missions must have been elsewhere. You briefly glanced over the rolled sleeves of his navy blue shirt and the way his jaw tightened when he checked the target to grade his accuracy.

“Look at that, you actually can hit a target,” you said and the corner of your lips twitched. “An easy one and not quite lethally but still, I’d call that a progress.”

Neil scoffed and glared at you over the shoulder. “I thought you were done for today.”

The subtle hints of frustration rang in his voice, catching you by surprise. You didn’t know why, but all of the sudden, the satisfaction you felt had a bitter aftertaste.

You eyed him carefully before speaking again, this time easing up on the mocking tone. Just a bit. “Maybe you just need to train in a more stressful environment.”

A sardonic smile tainted Neil’s lips as he focused on the target again.

“Keep talking then.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you left the shooting range.

Fucking hell, he was just infuriating.

_________________

You stared at the bulletin board in disbelief. The new training lineup added one-on-one sparring sessions, and your name was all the way at the bottom of the list, which only meant more late evenings at the headquarters. And as for the choice of your sparring partner-...

With the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure, trying to sneak by you unnoticed. You turned around quickly. “Ives, why do you guys hate me so much?”

He sighed slowly and patted you on the arm. “It’s nothing personal,” he said, his voice almost sincere. But you knew better, and after the crap they’d pulled on you last time, you had every right to be suspicious.

“You could have picked anyone else for him,” you complained, quite desperate to try anything to avoid spending more time with that blonde pain in the ass.

“I didn’t pick shit,” Ives scoffed. “Besides, it’s just the combat practice, the usual training rotation stays the same.”

“And it’s a coincidence-”

“It’s not,” TP’s voice rang from behind you. “It’s the result of your recent evaluation.”

You stifled a curse.

_________________

Neil’s brows furrowed in fake concern while he looked you up and down as you kicked off your shoes and stepped on the mat. The fact that you accidentally matched your black tank top and shorts to his black t-shirt and sweatpants didn’t get lost on him.

“What’s with the frown, sweetheart?” he teased. “I thought you might enjoy it, I saw the way you look at me.”

You smacked your lips as you began to stretch your arms and sneered, “Good, so you know how much I want to punch your stupid face.”

Neil kept his features casual, but the taunting sparks in his eyes were saying plenty.

“I can’t wait to see you try.”

You started circling each other slowly. After seeing him in combat, you knew that you were in his domain. You tapped into all your bottled anger to cover the lack of confidence you suddenly felt in his calm presence.

“Ground rules?” you asked, putting your guard up.

Neil’s shoulders raised in a slight shrug as he mirrored your pose nonchalantly.

“Just show me what you got.”

And that’s what you did.

You always considered your close combat skills adequate. Good enough to let you get out of most of the situations you’d found yourselves into during missions. But after yet another blocked hit, you weren’t so sure about that anymore.

Meanwhile, Neil was clearly having fun watching you struggle to break through his defense. “You don’t like hand-to-hand combat,” he rather stated the fact than asked as he dodged under swing aimed for his head and lunged forward, tapping your right side to mark the exposed area.

“If you’re that close, it means I’ve failed to shoot you,” huffing in frustration, you spun around and kicked, missing him just barely. Neil didn’t give you too much time to regain your balance, making you jump out of the way of his flying knee. He flitted around you and grabbed your wrist, twisting it quickly and pressing it to your back, quickly adding your other one there before you could do anything about it.

“You never let anyone near you, huh?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you tried to wriggle your way out. Neil was definitely too close for comfort, both literally and figuratively. “You’re not my therapist, blondie,” you uttered through gritted teeth, taking a sudden step back right into his arms, a change of direction finally allowing you to escape his grasp.

“Thank god, because I feel sorry for them already,” Neil laughed dryly. His eyes narrowed as he watched your mouth open in disbelief at his remark and a shit-eating grin crept on his face.

You don’t know what pissed you off more - the fact that he was bent on driving you mad, or the sudden realization that the fucker was clearly holding back. It didn’t matter that you were struggling enough with the moderate effort from his side; to you, it was an insult worse than the comment.

You brushed a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead. “Aren’t you tired?” you snarled, shifting your balance back and forth. The question was vague enough, but from the way his expression changed, you knew he got the hint. The predatory flare in his eyes made the heart race in your chest.

Neil sprung at you, faking a misstep on the way to throw you off balance. Your senses sharpened enough to predict his next move and you were there to deflect a lightning-quick hit to your abdomen. You returned with a strike at his side but to no luck. Neil ducked under your elbow and closed in on you, giving himself enough momentum to knock you down and pin you to the mat.

The self-satisfied stare just a few inches from your face was making the blood boil in your veins. Cursing internally at both his reach and flexibility, you squirmed under Neil and that only made him press his forearm to your chest even harder, a roguish smile tainting his lips. “See, there’s one thing you need to learn. You need to work smarter, not harder.”

An outraged cry built in your throat as you clenched your hands on his arms, trying to gain any leverage in your position. You glared into the blue eyes, the nauseating hate burning in every cell of your body.

Neil raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Oh no, did I hit a nerve?”

You let out a frustrated groan. Of course, that son of a bitch hit a fucking bullseye. And to make matters worse - he had a point, too.

Neil spotted a change in your expression a second too late. You swiftly moved your hands and sneaked them under his t-shirt, sliding them up his stomach. His eyes widened as he gasped, reducing the pressure on your chest. That gave you enough room to maneuver, rolling him off you and pinning him with his wrists above his head.

With your faces again just inches away from each other, both of you panted heavily; a part of you enjoyed Neil’s amused gaze, his mouth slightly open as he tried to level his breath. And then -

“Good girl. Just like that.”

...fuck.

You didn’t know what exactly made your brain short-circuit. Was it the hoarse voice combined with the praise? The way the blue eyes suddenly got darker? Or both together?

And you didn’t even know how you found yourself underneath Neil again, flipped on your stomach, your hands behind your back. With one cheek pressed against the cold mat, you shivered at the sudden warmth of his uneven breath on your neck.

A throaty chuckle made your heart skip a bit. “Two can play the game, darling,” he purred as his lips brushed against your ear.

Your mind went blank again.

Somehow, you made your way back to the shared locker room.

You leaned your back against the wall, crossing your arms. The tension between the two of you was almost volatile, elevating your heartbeat with every second passed and every step Neil made your way.

“You’re insufferable.”

You grinned slyly as your eyes flared up.

“The feeling is mutual, blondie.”

The way his gaze got even darker made your breath hitch. The burning sensation inside of you was something more than hatred now, not caring if you were ready to admit it or not.

He smacked his tongue, a vicious smile dangled in the corner of his lips.

“You really should stop calling me that.”

The hidden threat in his tone made your mouth dry. You raised a brow and held your breath.

“Or?”

He closed in on you and grabbed your chin harshly.

“Or I’ll make you.”

You flashed your teeth and taunted him again.

“Can’t wait to see you try.”

Neil hummed and moved a pad of his thumb against your lips, making you gasp breathlessly and lose all the resolve you had left. A dry chuckle in response to your expression was enough to haze your mind. You tilted your head as Neil leaned in, drawing his attention just where you wanted him. It took all your willpower not to sigh when he sucked at the skin just below your ear and your fingers raked through blonde hair, pulling Neil even closer.

His hands roamed your body hungrily while his mouth moved down your neck. When you felt his fingers going up your thigh, you tugged at his t-shirt, and as they moved even higher, your hips bucked involuntarily, so eager to feel him where you needed him the most.

A sharp chuckle against your collarbone as he palmed over the almost completely soaked-through fabric of your shorts sent a bolt of pleasure through your every nerve. You could feel your core pulsing even harder as his long fingers rubbed you just right.

Your hand flew back up and yanked at his hair, making him look at you just before you trailed his jawline with your mouth. Neil groaned and a laugh rattled in your chest.

You reached for his waistband, but he was faster. Next thing you knew, your shorts and panties were gone and Neil lifted you and pinned you to the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he slid his arm around your lower back. You nearly cried out when he thrust into you mercilessly; instead, you dug your nails into his back and sank your teeth in your bottom lip. As Neil picked up the pace, you clung to him for dear life. The heat radiating from his body carried the musky smell mixed with the almost fade-out scent of his cologne, the combination so intoxicating it made you lightheaded. You felt yourself tighten around him as he ground into you relentlessly, and pathetic whine escaped your mouth. Hearing that, Neil slowed down, almost stopping and you groaned in frustration when you realized what he was doing.

“I hate you,” you uttered through gritted teeth, panting heavily, rolling your hips, longing for the friction that son of a bitch was purposely denying you.

Neil pulled back enough so you could see the roguish sparks in his eyes accompanied by a mischievous grin.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he teased, his voice low and raspy.

You huffed, outraged by the audacity and he laughed, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he picked up where he’d left off. The fire he’d just fueled blazed in your veins, your heart raced in your chest and you felt yourself climbing the peak again. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling yourself closer, you frantically gasped for air and squeezed your eyes shut as you came undone with a loud moan, the pleasure hitting every fiber of your body in violent shockwaves. That was enough to send Neil over the edge, a deep groan escaping his mouth as he came into you, tightening his grasp on you almost painfully.

At that moment, you were nothing but a trembling mess in his arms. Coming down, you pressed your forehead to his, enjoying the way your breaths intertwined.

When both of you regained your senses, you pushed him away and picked up your clothes. As you were both decent enough, you glared at Neil.

“This changes nothing,” you said.

The self-satisfied look in his eyes made you realize your mistake.

No nickname.

You cursed internally, but it was already too late. He’d had it his way, in the end.

Neil’s lips curled in a half-smile.

“How tragic.”

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #tenet #robert pattinson #neil tenet fanfiction #tenet fanfiction #the protagonist tenet #ives tenet #wheeler tenet #neil tenet imagine #smoke & mirrors

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