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depravitycentral · 9 months

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Yandere! Gyutaro General Profile

Yandere! Gyutaro x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, mentions of non-con, mentions of masturbation, nonconsensual touching, semi graphic descriptions of violence, murder, mentions of catcalling and objectification (not by our lovely disturbed Gyutaro), poor nutrition, descriptions of Gyutaro consuming human flesh, lack of vitamin D in the underground lair, Gyutaro is cripplingly insecure and it shows, threats of violence against you, yelling, deragatory language, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of reader being non-traditionally pretty, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Motherly

The feelings he holds for his darling are, of course, not platonic, but there’s a part of him that craves to be cared for.

Daki cares for him, true, but he needs more – a sort of love that will leave his cold, empty heart racing, a love that will make his pessimistic views of himself and the world just a bit softer, someone to hold and warm his bed and tell him that he’s enough.

It’s sad, really; he’s so painfully insecure, so full of self-hatred and loathing that the moment his darling shows even an ounce of kindness or care for him, he’s done for.

He’s latching onto them, desperate for any ounce of love or attention they can give him, greedily taking and taking and taking, needing to feel cared for and wanted in a way he’s only ever dreamed of.

His darling is addicting, the feelings they give him becoming something he needs in order to simply just function, and a darling who can help foster these feelings and continually care for him would be very, very attractive to him.

He needs a darling who pities him, really, though he doesn’t want this to be obvious – they need to feel for him, to want to help him and stop all these horrible self deprecating comments, to help give him even just the slightest bit of confidence.

And just these efforts alone will have him gulping, his claws sinking into their sides in an effort to keep them by his side, safe and secure and trapped, so that they can never leave him.

Patient

He’s emotionally stunted.

Having been turned to a demon from a difficult, horrible human life, he’s never had any experience with romance or how to properly woo someone. He’s rough around the edges and short tempered, easy to set off in a fit of anger with very little reason.

He’s genuinely quite difficult to be around, and the constant negativity he spews about his life, humanity, and himself can be hard to tolerate.

As a result, he has to have a darling who is patient; they need to be able to handle all of the foul words and complaining he sends at them, just nodding along and comforting him, letting him clutch onto them and curl around their body, nearly suffocating them as he pours his heart out, relishing in the feeling of someone being there for him.

They need to be able to sooth him when his emotions get out of hand, running their fingers through his spindly hair and slowly rubbing his back, whispering his name and telling them that it’s okay, I’m here now, let’s try to get some sleep.

He needs a steady figure in his life, someone he can fall back on, someone to depend on and keep by his side as his rock.

He's too reclusive and standoffish to have had anyone prior to his darling, and the moment that his obsession forms, he’s latching onto them and never, ever letting go, akin to a parasite.

They become his sounding board, and while he does come as close to love as his twisted heart can get, at the end of the day they’re a possession of his, and they must be able to handle him.

Things will ugly very quickly if they can’t; a fate both he and his darling want to avoid.

Submissive

Gyutaro likes the idea of a darling who will revere him. He doesn’t want someone who is feisty or stubborn; he likes the idea of a darling who is submissive and nurturing, kind and patient and utterly willing to do everything he wants.

He has such trouble being vulnerable, and a darling who challenges him in any way will immediately force him to backtrack any sort of progress he makes in this field, his shell closing in on himself and cutting him off from any further emotional contact with his darling.

He’s sensitive, and he needs someone who will simply nod and allow him to hold them, even if his hands are deathly cold and he’s so awkward about physical affection that it hurts.

He needs someone who will smile when he asks them to, the apples of their cheeks plumping up and their pretty teeth on display, the smile – even forced – making his heart ache in a way he simultaneously adores and makes him nauseas.

He needs someone who will let him rant and rave into their ear, his grip on them slowly tightening as he details all of the horrible injustices in the world, complaining about humans and how vile they are.

(He’ll always begrudgingly bury his face against his darling’s back or stomach when he does this, his voice small and weak as he says but not you, you’re different, you’re the only good one of those miserable, filthy beings…)

He just needs someone who will support him, even if that obedience comes from a place of fear and self preservation.

It doesn’t matter, because all that matters to Gyutaro is that they’re with him, warm and alive and pliant in his arms, listening to him and touching him and running their fingers through his hair.

He just needs someone to love, and is that really so much for a creature like him to ask for?

Not traditionally pretty

While this isn’t a requirement, Gyutaro finds that a darling who isn’t the classical beauty everyone idolized when he was a human is preferable.

He certainly doesn’t find his darling ugly - absolutely not, but the idea of having a darling who has an insecurity regarding their looks is very, very attractive to him.

He doesn’t want his darling to be perfect in others’ eyes – no, they can only be perfect in his eyes, because he’s the only one who seems them for who they truly are.

He’s the only one who understands that they’re more than just their beauty, that they’re sweet and smart and gorgeous and intriguing and so, so very warm.

It makes him feel like he and his darling are connected if they don’t fall under the mainstream category of beauty, like they share something secret and primal, like they understand the suffering and horrors he’s experienced.

It convinces him further that he and his darling are bonded, that it’s some sort of twisted fate that they end up together – the monster and his love, the freak and the only one who could ever love him. It’s oddly poetic in his eyes, and so while this isn’t an absolute necessity, it definitely encourages his attraction towards his darling.

They just grow more beautiful to him day by day, their imperfections becoming the things he loves most about them, and while it sounds almost sweet and innocent, it really, really isn’t.

He’s hyper fixating, and while he doesn’t mean to be rude or prey on his darling’s insecurities, he’ll often comment on these perceived imperfections, telling them that they’re different, unique, weird, but in what he hopes is a comforting, awe-filled tone.

(It’s not, and it will take his darling quite some time to figure out that he’s being honest – he really, truly loves these features. It’s not a lie, even if he sounds like he’s belittling you – truly.)

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Stalker

Gyutaro is, tragically, not the most confidant creature on Earth. He’s internalized every bit of negative treatment he’s experienced, fully believing himself to be repulsive, disgusting, a freak.

And this doesn’t exactly instill confidence in his ability to interact with you – he’s convinced he’ll somehow royally fuck up if he approaches you, whether that be by scaring you, accidentally hurting you, or making you hate him.

He’s sure you’ll find him ugly and strange, that you’ll stare at him in horror and try to run away from him, only to leave him with a broken heart and anger simmering through his veins because how dare you reject him?

He’s convinced things will go awry if he tries to interact with you in any normal, healthy manner and so he falls back on a less consensual, less perilous position – that is, there are many, many benefits to stalking you.

He can observe you much better this way, watching you at your most vulnerable, when you think you’re alone, when you’re comfortable and at ease and utterly unaware of the violent monster sitting on your windowsill as you sleep, or the shadow in the corner of your bedroom as you dress to get ready for the day.

(You’ll sometimes hear this ragged sort of gasp, so quiet you’ll think you’ve made it up, but it’s real, his cheeks on fire and his hands shaking because god, even just the sight of your bare shoulder is enough to bring him to his knees.)

He’s watching through Daki as he resides inside of her, taking in the way your lips move when you speak, your tongue darting out to lick at the dry skin, your employer feeling the way her brother’s emotions spike upwards the longer you talk.

He watches the way your fingers skillfully move as you fold and sort the laundry piles of Daki’s clothing, your eyes glimmering in the light of the ornate House room, your lashes looking perfectly curled, the urge to count each individual hair making him urge Daki to slowly creep closer, dangerously close to bridging the too-big gap between your bodies.

He takes in the sound of your voice; sweet, like honey, something that makes him close his eyes and bite his lip, his brows drawing inward, the idea of you saying his name making him have to grasp onto the nearest object to keep his composure.

He’s hanging on to every word you say – your replies to Daki’s commands, your words of appreciation when she treats you like a slave, how relentlessly kind to her you are. It’s odd, and frankly he doesn’t understand it – why would you be so sweet to someone treating you so poorly?

It almost makes him mad, as he lays dormant, wishing he could escape his sister’s body and carry you to another room, to wipe the somewhat sad look in your eyes away, to maybe even hold you like he’s seen humans do, pressing you against his bony chest and feeling your warmth and seeing your pretty eyes look up at him and maybe even kissing you –

He’ll always stop himself with a miserable wail when these thoughts get too out of control, confusion coursing through him because what is he thinking? You’re a lowly human, weak and disgusting and obsessed with trivial, horrible things like beauty and greed – you aren’t worth his time or energy, even if your skin looks smooth to the touch, even if your body looks warm and soft underneath the layers of your clothing, even if he swears that you sometimes even seem to see him through Daki, as if you can sense his presence.

The denial slowly begins ebbing out of his system, however, as time goes on – and instead, he replaces it with an increased sense of desperation for you.

He starts spending more time outside of Daki’s body than inside, wishing to be independent so that he doesn’t have to merely observe and hope that Daki will be in the same room as you.

Now, he can freely follow you; tracing your every move to different rooms in the house, around the district. He can see who you interact with, learn what makes you smile and laugh, what makes you cry, and see how you grow uncomfortable when strange men leer at you and ask to see what you’re hiding beneath your kimono.

(Rarely does Gyutaro kill non-slayer humans with purpose aside from eating or petty revenge for reacting badly to his appearance, but that night those men died in the most excruciating way he could think of, their voices ringing in his head. C’mon pretty girl, a good bitch like you is only good for one thing. Aw look, she’s scared. That just makes me even more excited, little girl. The rest of the night he spent on your windowsill, yellow eyes fixed on your peacefully sleeping form, trying to engrave the sound of the men’s screams into his mind.)

He likes being your shadow; of course, he fantasizes about the day he’ll get to interact with you himself, but for now this is enough. He's terrified you’d reject him if he were to try to speak with you like a human, and if he tried to confess his feelings for you and you were to reject him?

Well, Gyutaro isn’t afraid of many things, but he’d rather insult Muzan than see the disgust and hate in your eyes directed at him.

So, he satiates himself with simply watching you, always keeping a healthy distance between you, one that makes him equal parts relieved and frustrated.

It’s easy to pretend like he's in your life this way; he’ll imagine you saying his name, imagine holding you while you sleep, brushing away stray strands of hair from your face while you smile at him. He runs his fingers over your pillow when you’re not in your room, brings your toothbrush to his lips as he slowly, deliberately licks across the tied bristles, eyes rolling back because is this what you taste like?

It’s easier to pretend like you actually know of his presence this way, like you’re happy that he’s watching out for you, like you want him to stare at you, like you want him to just be there, to be by your side.

He won’t be content forever to simply follow you, but before he steals you away to Daki’s lair, it’s enough. Just barely, but it takes Gyutaro so long to gather the courage to actually interact with you that this is the only way to save himself from potential embarrassment and rejection.

After all, he feels like he’s getting to know the real you this way – too bad you know nothing of the looming, violent presence sticking onto you like fucking glue.

Clingy

Gyutaro has a difficult time expressing his feelings. With his limited romantic experience, he’s very much not adept at human emotional communication. He struggles to properly display how he feels for you, especially towards the beginnings of his obsession.

At first, he’s incredibly resistant to the idea of growing attached to you. You’re just a human, and a weak one at that – you’ve been blessed with a pretty face (gorgeous even, he might say, though the barrage of scratching at his eyes that follows that statement deters it), you’re kind, you’re everything he claims to hate.

And yet, he can’t stop thinking about you – it’s infuriating, and at first he finds himself idly wondering if he should just kill you to get all these confusing, uncomfortable feelings to go away.

He doesn’t like how he’s not in control when he thinks of you, his heart racing and his palms growing sweaty, this weird, foreign sense of urgency fluttering in his stomach because he just needs to see you, to let his eyes settle onto your figure, to hear your voice or watch as you bite your lip in concentration or peacefully sleep.

He wants to kill you, but the more he thinks about it, the less sure of that he becomes – there’s this sour taste in his mouth when he imagines your dead body, and it makes him scratch at his neck to imagine you not being alive and therefore not watchable.

So, begrudgingly, he decides he shouldn’t harm you – not out of cause for your safety, but rather out of selfishness. This is, of course, just what he tells himself – in reality, it’s very much because he can’t stomach the thought of you getting hurt.

He doesn’t want a single scratch to mar your pretty skin or a single hair on your head to be touched – you’re perfect, and you’re his little bit of perfection, one that he’s never had before. He’s never had someone make his heart race like this, nor has he ever had someone be so unintentionally kind to him.

Originally, you’d caught his attention because you’d seen a shadow of him in Daki’s room in the house, and as her servant, you’d quickly closed the door and begged her forgiveness for interrupting, only to offhandedly compliment the colors of his hair as you attended to her.

Gyutaro, having been resting within her, had heard your compliment, and immediately was bristling, his heart fighting between extreme anger that you could be making fun of him, and a smaller, pathetically hopeful piece of him that was wondering if you’d meant it, if he’d really just received the first compliment of his life.

And from then on, he’s lost – his obsession festers quickly and strongly, his dependence on you growing with every minute of every day as he relives your compliment over and over, slowly finding everything you do endearing and interesting and – dare he say it – cute. And so, simply put, any time that Gyutaro is not sealed away inside of Daki, he’s diligently by your side, stuck to you like glue.

Once he develops feelings for you, he becomes much more independent than his previous self – rarely does he reside within Daki anymore, unless he needs to rest. He doesn’t like being trapped and separated from you, because while he still retains a level of consciousness of what’s going on around him when he’s sealed away, residing within her limits his ability to communicate with you.

And god, does he love to do that – once he’s stolen you away, he’s always, always talking to you, his gravelly voice ringing in your ears even when you try to sleep. He’s always asking your opinion on things, questions that seem pointless about your favorite foods, colors, activities, even personal questions about himself.

(What is your favorite thing about me? And don’t lie, I can sense when you lie; your lip trembles slightly, and I’ll sense your heart beating faster. It might be hard to answer, I’m so ugly…)

And of course, when he’s got you trapped in his thin, inhumanely strong arms while you both reside in Daki’s nest as the sun beats on the ground above, he’s reaching deeper, the questions becoming more personal.

Hey, what’s your biggest fear? What makes you the happiest? How does it feel to be so misfortunate as to have me as your lover?

He’s not always looking for answers – though most of the time he is – but rather he just likes the way you look at him while he asks. Your eyes are wide, your rapt attention given to him, and the way you hang onto his every word has him feeling important, understood, even if your answers aren’t what he wants to hear.

He’s never punished you for a wrong answer to these questions, though it’s easy to read his disappointment. Mostly, he absolutely hates it when your compliments fall flat, or if you aren’t as kind and loving as you normally are to him.

If you don’t give as heartfelt of a compliment to his appearance as you did yesterday – instead of praising his collarbone as being defined and curved like a bird’s song sounds, you’re telling him his eyes are pretty – he’ll pout, like some child, though the repercussions and feeling of terror you’ll experience are anything but childish.

He’s frowning, a scowl pulling at his features because he wants more. Tell him how his eyes make you feel – do you get nervous butterflies in your stomach from them? Do you lose yourself in the amber depths, getting lost in the way he gazes at you with such ardent adoration and lust?

Gyutaro is needy, really, and you’ll very quickly learn this. It takes a while for him to allow himself to touch you (he’s nervous at first, though he’d never ever admit it – he’s killed and injured too many, never having known how to be gentle and loving, and the thought of accidentally hurting you has him scratching at his face and chest, agony blooming in his heart), but once he crosses that mental barrier, he’s suddenly never taking his hands off of you.

The touches are small at first – a hand at your cheek while his thumb traces your cheekbone, the sharp nail unbearably close to your eye as you stay as still as you possibly can. He’ll run his fingers over your hair, the texture growing familiar as that strange, dazed look overtakes his features.

He’ll try to have you in his arms as often as he possibly can, whether that’s leaning over your body while you stand before him, or forcing you to sit in his lap as he runs a finger up and down your spine, marveling at how soft and warm and pliant you feel in his grasp.

(You’ll be able to tell he’s in awe, too, because there’s always something hard pressing against your lower back and the breaths he wheezes into your ear are strained and uneven and gaspy.)

He grows a penchant for simply watching you, his eyes fixed on your form as you bite your lip and shiver, the freezing temperatures of Daki’s lair making your skin burst into goosebumps.

He’ll occasionally bring back human items; you’ve woken up to a ratty woolen blanket covering your form before, a thin pillow under your head while Gyutaro’s face peers at you from a mere foot away, his own body lying down beside yours. You’re sure he was watching you sleep – as he often does – but you can’t deny the warmth the blanket offers you, and you’ll even whisper with a soft voice, thank you, Gyutaro.

(You hadn’t been aware previously to him that demons could blush, but the soft pink that envelopes his cheeks is difficult to ignore, as is the way he warbles and rolls over to face away from you, curling in on himself and violently scratching at his chest, the embarrassment and influx of something warm and sweet and good in his heart making it hard to look at you.)

Generally, Gyutaro’s main goal is to always be around you, whether that’s being in the same room, you in his arms, or simply just staring from aware.

He’s needy, absolutely desperate for you to acknowledge him and validate every insecurity still left over from his time as a human, and while he doesn’t believe you most of the time, it’s still euphoric to hear. So please, please tell him you love the way he holds you so delicately and carefully. (Don’t mention the way his protruding bones dig into your skin, causing your discomfort and making it hard to spend the hours laying with him that he wants.)

Tell him that you enjoy the way he says your name, that it sounds sweet and romantic and loving. (The odd lilt that sounds just a bit too much like a moan isn’t important, of course, nor is the way you sometimes see his eyes roll back just slightly, as if the mere thought of you is enough to get his knees weak and blood rushing south. It is, but again, it’s not important.)

Tell him that you wish he’d be with you forever, that you’ll never leave his side. (And when you’re forced to drink Muzan’s blood – and Gyutaro’s, too, because he wants to feel more connected to you - and you become a demon, don’t be surprised when he says with a gleeful smile that now we can truly be together, stuck with me for all eternity, clutching onto you with all the force and strength he’s been yearning to for months.)

He just loves you, or as much as a demon can, so just take it, yeah?

Protective

Once his feelings for you begin to form, the residual urge to protect Ume that resided within his human self comes into play.

Of course, he still protects and prioritizes Daki’s safety, but you’re equally as important to him, just in a different way. With Daki, it’s about survival – he cannot live without her, and she cannot live without him. They’re siblings, bonded by something deep and intangible, something that can never be broken.

But you?

Oh, it’s different with you – you’re something he wants to protect, his own sweet, naïve little human that he gets to keep as his own for all eternity. He wants to keep you pristine and healthy and detached from the vile, horrible human world, because he wants to feel like your protector, to feel like you need him, like you wouldn’t be alive today without him stopping all sorts of threats.

(He’s the only real threat facing you, of course, but it’s not like that – of course not, because he loves you, and why would he ever hurt you? He’s already decided not to eat you, so why do you still seem so uncomfortable around him, always flinching away from him or breathing hard when he comes near you?)

Despite his mantra of balancing the inequalities of misfortune he’s had to endure, he sees you as his sole light. You’re the only thing he’s been given by the heavens, and how could he squander the only good thing he’s ever had?

The prospect of you dying or becoming horribly injured makes his eye twitch and his fingers grasp onto his scythes so tightly that his knuckles turn white, his bloodlust palpable in the air. And so, Gyutaro takes your safety very, very seriously.

He himself only eats human flesh, but he knows (begrudgingly), that you won’t partake in this particular diet, so he scrounges up stolen food from the various shops in the district. He’s not quite sure what all you like, and he’d never gotten the opportunity to try most foods when he was a human, so he relies solely on smell to guide his food picking.

Everything he brings back is either extremely healthy (earthy materials with a residue of dirt on them, likely pulled directly from the ground out of someone’s home garden), or extremely unhealthy (boxes of pickled candies with minimal nutritional value).

He doesn’t remember what humans need in order to survive, so while the constant supply of food is good, the food itself is not.

And yet, there’s something oddly endearing about the way he watches while biting his lip (his sharp teeth drawing blood along with the nails that scratch at his biceps), eyes trained on you as you chew and swallow, watching every movement like a hawk. He’s so focused, the nervous question of do you like it rolling off his tongue before he can help himself, shame eating away at him because he sounds so damn pathetic. He’ll watch you eat, making sure you don’t choke, with his fingers shaking slightly as he holds himself back from reaching out to touch you, to make sure you’re real.

He’s always asking you if you’re feeling good, hoping that you don’t fall ill, because he remembers nothing of human medicine and he can’t exactly take you to a doctor with his condition.

And while his protectiveness in terms of your needs as his captee are admirable for a man-eating monster, the level at which he obsesses over your safety in other ways is less than ideal.

He’s so, so scared of you harming yourself that he does nearly everything for you. He’ll call you weak as he helps you bathe, his hands running over your naked skin with strokes that are much slower than they need to be, but he doesn’t mean what he says.

(You’re not even sure he's aware of what he’s saying – the way his eyes bulge out of his head every time he sees your bare ass tells you as much, as does the way his breathing gradually picks up as he bathes you, uneven breaths turning into labored pants until it reaches a fever pitch and oh – was that a moan of your name?)

He’ll tell you that you’re pathetic for needing his help walking around the lair, though you very much never asked for his assistance; nonetheless, his arms wrap under your armpits regardless, helping ease some of your weight off of your knees, the lack of exercise you receive from staying underground all day long making your muscles tired and weakened.

He’s condescending, really, though it’s painfully obvious he doesn’t mean to be. There’s malice in his eyes when he tells you these things, though you’ve learned he always has malice in his eyes, so is it really aimed towards you?

If he really hated humans and the blessed as much as he claims, would his grip on your delicate skin be as gentle as it is? You don’t think so, and while it hurts to be called weak and incapable every day, his insistence on helping you with the most trivial of tasks tells you that he cares about you more than he’s willing to admit.

And – heaven forbid – if you were to ever be in danger from another man?

Well, Gyutaro’s never enjoyed a kill so much, even against pesky Hashira. Because when he eventually tears out the man’s eyeballs, his teeth bared as he growls and groans at the fresh corpse, obliterating the body in a more graphic and violent way than usual, Gyutaro can’t help but feel smug because he saved you, he made sure this vile excuse for a life never laid a hand upon you.

And if it’s another demon that’s threatening you? Gyutaro’s an Upper Rank for a reason, and while this battle is significantly more terrifying for you to watch, he's torturing the demon as slowly and painfully as he possibly can with two main goals in mind.

Firstly, he’s making a point to the other creature, showing him that only he can lay eyes upon you, and only he can have and hold you.

And the other reason? Well, he can’t deny the way his heart races when you praise him for his power, telling him he’s so strong, I – I feel safe with you, Gyutaro…

He feels needed when he protects you, and so your best course of action is really to just let him baby you. Daki and you both might hate it, but Gyutaro needs to take care of you – he needs to hear you praise him and thank him for his hard work, and with every compliment that slips from your lips he only grows more and more obsessed.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Quite honestly, the likelihood of anyone else giving you the attention or time of day that Gyutaro is afraid of is extremely low.

The only people you’ll really ever see are himself and Daki; your lone companions for the rest of your life. Being kept hostage in Daki’s underground lair makes it very, very difficult for you to receive visitors, and unless you’re able to crawl at a steep upwards incline for miles through tunnels, you have very little hope of ever escaping. Consequently, the chances of you ever interacting with someone that could spark jealousy within Gyutaro while you’re under his thumb is very low.

But that’s the key part – while you’re under his thumb. He doesn’t act on his obsession very quickly, instead preferring to simply stalk you for months on end, watching and observing and letting his feelings fester, growing stronger and stronger until they eventually bubble over and he can’t not be with you at all hours of the day.

But that period of a few months between his feelings for you forming and when he eventually steals you away are wrought with jealousy and frustration on his end. He’s constantly, constantly paranoid that another man will come and sweep you off your feet, that you’ll fall head over heels for some lowly human man, that your heart will be stolen and possessed by some weak, pitiful human that doesn’t even deserve you.

(Not that he feels he deserves you either, but it’s different for Gyutaro – at least he can protect you, at least he can keep you safe. What can this man do? What could he possibly offer you, aside from perhaps a more pleasant face?)

He’s monumentally terrified of you ever finding someone else to love, the prospect of you leaving him behind, your feelings (whatever they may be) for him withering away into nothing while another man holds your attention and love being more painful to him than anything else he could ever imagine.

He doesn’t want to lose the feelings you give him, so he resigns himself to knowing he has to do something to stop all these men from potentially stealing you from him. He doesn’t like how weak this all makes him feel, the paranoia churning in his gut and forcing him to act in ways he'd never expected to, ways that disgust him, ways that embarrass him when Daki asks why the hell he seems to be going so far for some stupid human woman.

He’s never even totally sure himself, only guided by the knowledge that he has to keep you his, that he can never go back to his life before you wandered into it. All he knows is that when he hears your voice (so pretty and sweet, something he could listen to for hours if you’d let him) accompanied by a more masculine, male one, he’s seeing fucking red.

He’s never felt this angry before; Hashira have come and gone, made his sister cry and landed a few good hits on him, but he’s genuinely enraged in that moment, honestly livid at what’s happening right before him.

The idea that you could be talking to another man haunts him from that night forward, the jealousy brewing in his gut difficult to identify but horrible to harbor. Gyutaro gets jealous extremely easy during this time period between the formation of his feelings and eventually kidnapping you; he’s so terrified of another man grabbing your attention, and can he honestly be blamed?

He’s a monster, and his self esteem is so low that he’s sure every other living being on the planet is more attractive than him – so why would you ever choose him?

Gyutaro gets very, very angry when jealous.

He’s naturally quick to kill, but in the context of him being fearful of your attention wavering from him, he’s even more trigger happy. He’ll kill without a second thought, slashing at the heads of any man he thinks has even the merest idea of potentially pursuing you.

So when he’s coming back from a kill one night, with blood already staining his fingers and his stomach full, the last thing he expects to hear is your voice. He’d hated having to leave you alone; normally, he’s following you like a shadow, never more than a few feet behind you, following your every move and staying with you for hours on end.

You’ve never really noticed, as his skills of deception and hiding are high, and being this far away from you for a few hours has taken its toll on him. He’s exhausted, and every muscle in his body is taut and alert – ready to see you, to smell your now familiar scent and gaze at your beauty in whatever working kimono you were wearing this evening.

However, your voice brings him out of that reverie – you’re laughing. And so is the man you’re with. Immediately, Gyutaro’s face twists into an ugly scowl, his claws scratching at his cheeks and chest as he begins muttering under his breath, trying to pinpoint where the sound of your voices is coming from. He growls as he finally decides on the direction, before sprinting off, already arming himself with his sickles.

His shoulders are more hunched than usual when he lands on the balcony of the room you’re currently in, the man in question sitting across from you over a small table. Gyutaro’s eye twitches, his gaze raking over the man in question. He’s tall, he can tell; a brunette with soft hazel eyes, his physique decent underneath the black robes he wears. Immediately Gyutaro finds himself hating him even more – he looks rich, happy, handsome.

For a moment Gyutaro is frozen, simply watching the scene play out with wide, panicked eyes, his pulse racing dangerously, before the man’s reaching hand caressing yours over the table snaps him out of his daze. He growls lowly, charging into the room as quickly as he can and snatching the man into his arms, thrusting him outside and disappearing before you have a chance to register what just happened, everything happening in the blink of an eye.

As he runs through the crowded, loud backstreets of the Entertainment District out to somewhere more private where he can probably dispose of this scum, he hopes that he was fast enough that you didn’t catch a glimpse of him. He’d heard your confused calls of what he assumed to be the man’s name, but that only made him angrier, his steps faster and faster as he neared the woods.

Soon he’s surrounded by trees, their shade darkening his body, only allowing his eyes to illuminate. Gyutaro throws the man to the ground, the dirt of the forest surely staining his robes an ugly brown color. The man hacks as he touched the ground, the force knocking the air out of his lungs, but Gyutaro doesn’t wait.

No, instead he throws the man against a nearby tree with a scythe, the sound of cracking making a wide, gleeful smile cross his features. The man’s back is broken, surely, but it’s not enough.

You think you’re special, don’t you?

He warbles, eyes narrowing while the smile stays spread across his lips. The anger in his veins is so potent that it forces him to take staggering steps, his mind too hyper focused on killing this man to walk properly.

You think you can have any woman you want, don’t you?

The man gasps something, though his body isn’t moving from where the scythe has him pinned against the bark.

Gyutaro spits at him, a glob of saliva landing on the man’s cheek.

I may be the repulsive one, but you’re pretty pathetic too, huh? Letting someone as ugly as me kill and devour you…

Gyutaro cuts himself off with a giggle, his fingers once again coming up to scratch at his face and neck.

Then I’ll make you suffer… you’ll watch as I feast on your flesh.

And with that he charges forward, his fingers wrapping around the man’s forearm and pulling, hard, the resounding sound of tearing flesh making him grin. As he brings the severed arm up to his mouth, blood streaming down his arm, Gyutaro can only shake, the thought of eating the man that dared touch you and steal your attention making a strange sort of euphoria dance through his veins. Not a piece of the man is left by the time Gyutaro is done an hour later, his stomach sated as he scowls down at the bloodstains left by the stranger.

(He’d paid special attention to truly savor and enjoy the hand that had touched you – licking at the skin, a moan tumbling from his lips because this is the closest he’s ever gotten to touching you himself, and even if it was the disgusting man’s arm, the experience was still intimate, sweet, enough to force him to have to lean against the nearest tree so as not to fall to his knees when they buckle.)

He spits once more at the ground, cursing the human, before sprinting off to the room you’d been in, hoping with everything he has that you’d still be there.

Maybe he could watch you for a while; you always looked prettiest when you were unaware, and maybe you’d even fall asleep so he could come closer, so he could smell you, touch you ever so lightly, listen to the way your heartbeat beats again, and again, and again…

The rage subsides slowly as he places himself outside the window of your home in the House, his harsh breathing slowly returning to normal, until a light pink flush coats his cheek and he coos your name, wishing you’d turn around and smile at him, that you’d cup his face and tell him I love you Gyutaro, no one but you.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because Gyutaro’s feelings for you take a while to accumulate (mostly through watching you while he’s dormant inside of Daki, or stalking you from the shadows as he grows more and more fascinated with you), he’ll slowly come to the conclusion that you can’t be left alone.

He discovers he fucking hates not having you next to him; you’re the one thing he looks forward to every day.

Seeing your smile ignites this odd sense of happiness inside his chest, a feeling he’s not sure he’s ever experienced before.

His fingers shake when he’s around you; nerves eating him alive, because as desperately as he wants you to give him attention, he’s also terrified you’ll find yourself repulsed by him, that he’ll do something that causes you to hate him or be afraid of him.

He needs your focus on him, but he’s just so, so scared that you’ll reject him – which, in combination with his jealousy, leads Gyutaro to an odd dilemma.

On the one hand, he always, always wants your presence near him – you’re like his drug, the one he’s hopelessly and happily addicted to, and to be without you would mean death to both the small grains of humanity still within him, and any sense of self he possesses.

And on the other hand, he’s terrified that you’ll find someone better than him, that you’ll replace him and leave him in the dust behind you, heartbroken and enraged that you’re gone.

And so, he does the only thing he can think to do – if he’s afraid of losing you and your gorgeous, bright smile aimed at him, then taking you before you can leave is the only solution.

He’s not particularly regretful about stealing you away from your life; you didn’t love the world you were in, he knows that. He knows that despite now being stuck with a grotesque monster, you’re in a better place now.

Because despite his flaws (both internally and externally), the one thing that Gyutaro can do better than any other man on Earth is protect you. He’s strong, capable, destructive, and thoroughly able to take care of you.

Thus, don’t you belong fully under his protection, where the world can get at you (and you can’t get at it)?

Gyutaro believes so, and stealing you away not only keeps other men away from you, but now you’re fully his. Daki’s lair is empty most of the time anyways, and maybe in the dimness you won’t see Gyutaro very clearly.

Maybe then the compliments that come from your lips will feel more real – and maybe then, Gyutaro can will himself to believe that you mean it when you say you don’t think he’s ugly, simply special.

Of course, Gyutaro is a demon. He’s by no means an ideal captor – he’s only marginally aware of what humans need in order to survive, and despite his intense devotion to you, he’s not fully changing his personality just because of your presence.

He becomes much softer around you; less harsh around the edges, more like a nervous teenage boy because fuck does he want to impress you.

He doesn’t want you to be disappointed in him, so he tries his absolute best to keep you comfortable and happy, though he isn’t always successful. He doesn’t fully understand that insects and scraps of food from various shops in the district aren’t your preferred meal, but don’t mention it to him. He doesn’t realize that the one kimono he’d stolen you away in has grown to be caked in mud and dirt since you’ve been ‘living’ in this lair of his, but you won’t say anything out of fear that the alternative is wearing nothing.

Don’t ever say anything even somewhat negative to him about his actions; he’s extremely sensitive, and one small critique of him in any way has him caving in on himself, scratching at every inch of his skin as warbles away about how you don’t love him, you’re lying to him, how he knew there was no way you could love such a disgusting monster.

He’ll close himself off, the anger and hurt making his head spin, and after a long few minutes of him wallowing in his self pity, he’s suddenly up, staring at you with wide yellow eyes and a tear or two, his hands shaking as he lunges at you.

However, while he’s somewhat stand-offish at the start of your captivity, he slowly warms up to you.

Mostly, he’s just terrified that you’ll confirm all of the insecurities he possesses; he’d die if you were to call him ugly, his heart cracking into a million little pieces while tears well in his eyes and his lips spread into an ugly sneer, bitterly telling you he knew it, I knew a spoiled whore like you could never love a monster like me.

Of course, you know well enough not to do that (you’ve seen Daki and him smeared with blood too many times to fear how they’d deal with your resistance), but the fear is very present in his heart.

He’s always nervous you’ll turn back on your compliments, that your sweet words and touches are born out of trying to trick him into being falsely secure, then tearing the rug out from under him, leaving him a shell of what’s left of himself.

However, as you don’t morph into the monster he secretly half-hopes you’ll become, Gyutaro slowly grows more trusting of you, more believing of your kind words.

He starts touching you softly – his fingers brushing over your skin, over the fabric of your kimonos. He’ll throw an occasional smile at you under the guise of being teasing, though despite the stinging, rude comment he likely uttered, the quirk of his lips looks strangely genuine.

Eventually, he’ll allow himself to hug you, your softer body against his making his knees feel weak, his heart leaping up to his throat.

And as his physicality grows more lenient with you, as do his words – instead of only teasing, crude remarks made towards you, he slowly begins complimenting you as well. He’s used to hiding behind his mean words as a defense mechanism, but when you’re looking up at him with your watery, scared eyes, how can he call you a pathetic excuse for a human?

You’re beautiful; every imperfection and blemish on your body is gorgeous to him, and how could he ever make you feel terrible about yourself?

And so, instead of telling you that you’re really pretty sad, you know? Laying on the ground scared like a worm, a poor excuse he’ll instead say you have some dirt on your cheek, you’re so messy.

It’s not that much better, but as time passes his words slowly grow less harsh and more appreciative, until he’s pulling you close one night and whispering into your ear that he thinks he loves you, that he needs you, don’t ever leave me alone, I can’t live without you.

Aside from the way he acts around you, your living conditions will be painfully unchanging. You’ve been relocated to Daki’s lair, deep underground. A few lamps were brought in by Gyutaro so that you could see, the warm light making you feel slightly better as the chill of underground seeps into your bones.

He’s collected a number of human items for you in an attempt to get you feeling more at home; a collection of blankets sits at the end of your futon, a makeshift pillow sitting on the other end. A few novels have been delivered to you, and while you’re not a particular fan of any of the genres present, you’ve read them cover to cover more times than you can count during your time with Gyutaro.

He brings you human foods (though they’re marginally considered food), and he’s placed an instrument he stole from the House down there as well, as entertainment for when he can’t be with you.

(When he’d brought the instrument, he’d set it down in front of you and scampered back, his shoulders hunched in slightly, nervously glancing at you as you appraised his gift, his heart racing wildly because do you like it? Are you happy he thought of you and stole this for you? Are you appreciative? Will you give him a kiss as a thank you?)

Daki is hardly ever around, and while her belt can be annoying when it speaks, a quick conversation with Gyutaro about not bothering you had Daki reluctantly relenting to keeping her belt mute, only furthering her irritation with you.

Gyutaro is always in the lair with you unless he’s directly needed by Daki, or to feed. As such, you’d better be prepared to constantly be stared at, watched, poked and prodded, your sleeping body waking up to a different position than the one you fell asleep in, nail marks still imprinted on your skin.

Gyutaro just really, really likes having you in close contact, and while he knows you likely aren’t extremely pleased by your forced relocation, isn’t this better?

Because now you’re safe – with him, where he can keep every man and demon away from you, keeping you selfishly all for him.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a captor, Gyutaro is a delicate balance of gentleness and abrasiveness.

Of course, he’s a demon. He’s naturally violent, crunching human flesh between his teeth often, and the strength in just his pinky is more than every muscle in your body combined.

And as a demon, his temper is rocky, at best. He’s extremely temperamental, and it takes little to nothing to set off his anger.

When it comes to you, he’s marginally more in control, but for the most part you need to exercise extreme caution once you’re in his captivity.

Gyutaro isn’t the best communicator, which often times lands you in the unfortunate position of having to guess what makes him mad; you’ve built a list as time goes on, mentally noting any time he seems to get agitated, when he starts scratching more at his neck or his voice gets tight and curt. The list is vivid in your mind, something you diligently avoid bringing up in conversation or doing, if only because you’re still terrified that one day it’ll be your blood staining his teeth or splattered across the metal of those scythes he carries.

And the list is long – he’s easy to set off, whether it’s from mentioning the name of another man, or even just slightly flinching when his hands begin travelling all over your body, his breath ragged and deep.

But you’ve found, through experience, that there are three things he tolerates the worst, one of which being any mention of your past life before meeting him and Daki.

It’s not that he’s not interested in knowing about your hobbies and the people you knew (and, frankly, all that stalking makes you having any habits he’s not aware of extremely unlikely), but rather that he gest so, so jealous when you talk about former friends or important people in your life.

It pisses him off to hear you talk so familiarly about anyone that isn’t him, and each jealous thought is immediately followed up by worries about what they do better than him, if they’re more attractive (he’s sure they are), and just how much better than him they must be.

He’ll also get upset if you mention anything about wanting to escape or leave the lair. He takes it as a sign that you’re not happy here, with him, that you don’t think he’s doing a good enough job of taking care of you.

And lastly, while he knows you’re stuck with a demon like him and are understandably terrified, he doesn’t tolerate your nervous twitches and flinches when he comes near you, or your hurtful words insulting him in any way.

He views it as you rejecting him and his presence, and that’s a sure fire way to find letting a deep scowl settle across his features, his fingers tugging at his hair while he runs off to find some human to kill and feast upon to release his anger.

It’s easy to set him off, yes, but while Gyutaro is by no means gentle, he won’t often actually physically harm you.

He might, potentially, begrudgingly, to prove a point, but the worst he’ll do is break an arm or a finger, something to scare you but not actually threaten your life. And even then, this will take a huge amount of anger on his part to actually follow through on. He’s still hesitant to hurt you in any way, too afraid he’ll accidentally lose control of his strength and kill you, and so frankly these situations are often just as painful for him as it is you.

He avoids these physical punishments, though, unless he absolutely has no other choice – but as a general rule, a twisted arm or swollen joint isn’t the repercussions that await you when you anger him.

No, instead Gyutaro does something much worse – his punishments aren’t planned, purely emotional outbursts that end up warping your view of him, damaging your perception of reality until you’re so unsure of how you real feel or what he really is that you’ll blindly cling to him, the Stockholm Syndrome festering and growing until you become just as dependent on him as he is you.

Generally, any negative comments towards him set him off, but any comments specifically referencing his appearance will bring out a very specific type of rage, and this particular brand of anger is very, very scary.

What makes it so dangerous is that Gyutaro is not only pissed, angry, livid, he’s also incredibly hurt. He hates allowing himself to believe your kind compliments and words, but every once in a while he’ll let them settle in, letting hope bloom in his chest that maybe you mean it.

(He’ll delude himself into believing that you really like his eyes, or that you think his facial birthmarks are endearing, that you aren’t just saying that so he won’t kill you. And it makes him feel good, a sense of belonging and bashfulness making him struggle to meet your gaze and instead tug at your kimono and ask you to say it again and again and again, committing the sound of such sweet words coming from your lips to his memory.)

And the main reason for his anger when you lash out and call him hideous is because he should have known.

It’s a slap in the face – how could he have allowed himself to be so foolish and naïve? How could he have allowed himself to get comfortable, to forget his cursed appearance, to forget that he’s a monster in every sense of the word?

He’s frustrated at himself for not seeing this coming; there’s no way you’d ever like someone like him, and it was stupid of him to even entertain the notion that you don’t see him as a grotesque, terrifying predator.

And so, as the words slip past your lips, he’s immediately freezing, his shoulders going slack and his jaw hanging open slightly. Don’t touch me, you monster!

The lair is eerily silent for a few moments, your words processing in his mind as he stares at you, the only sound filling your ears being your own heavy, nervous breaths.

But soon a small, nearly breathless giggle echoes in your ears, the sound making you suck in a sharp breath. The chuckle soon turns into quiet laughter, rising in pitch and volume until Gyutaro is cackling, his voice cracking and hiccupping as his eyes go wide, his hands scratching welts so deeply into his sides that it almost concerns you.

His whole body is shaking, shoulders violently jumping up and down at the force of his maniacal laughter, but eventually it subsides, his hair hanging forward to cover his face.

Do you think that I’m a monster? You think I’m a freak, huh?

His voice is more unsteady than normal, you note with a sense of fear. He tilts his head up slightly, peeking at you from underneath his bangs, his lips pulled into some mixture of a grimace and a grin, the sight making a shiver crawl down your spine. It’s only now that you notice his eyes are red rimmed, his cheeks wet, as if he’d been laughing so hard he was crying – or, perhaps, he really was crying.

Huh? Answer me, dammit!

He’s screaming now, the grimace getting tighter. He takes a step forward, and you shuffle backwards, scooting the backside of your kimono across the dirt as you shuffle back against the wall, trying to get as much space between the two of you as possible.

Answer me, you bitch!

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper out a n-no, but that only makes him angrier, taking another step forward, the sound of his foot crunching against the dirt making you sob.

You’re a liar! A filthy, disgusting liar!

His words hurt, though you can’t explain why. They make you flinch, your hands balling into fists as you bring your knees up to your chest, trying to become as small as possible as he takes another few steps towards you.

You’re nothing without me! He’s screeching now, his voice unbareably high, raw emotion shining through as the words start tumbling from his lips. You’d be dead without me! Imagine that? Something as beautiful as you needing a monster like me to keep you from getting devoured by some demon or some human. You’re pathetic, are you ashamed of yourself?

You’re crying now, fat, ugly tears streaming down your cheeks, but he’s too blinded by his rage to notice.

Does it make you feel good to think you’re better than me? Does it make you feel important? You’re a liar! How dare you do this? How dare you lie to me and tell me that you love me, when you just think I’m ugly and horrible!

His voice is close now, too close, and as you peel open your watery eyes, you see his own yellow ones mere inches from your face. His teeth are bared, every muscle in his neck and chest flexing as he struggles to stop himself from reaching out and clawing at your face, destroying your face until he can no longer recognize you.

You’re speaking before you can help yourself, fear and panic and a cold, gripping sense of regret climbing into your throat.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I don’t think you’re a monster, I’m just – I’m just scared Gyutaro! I’m scared of how you make me feel! I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me, please…

You cut yourself off with a sob, fingers digging into your palms, and as you close your eyes and wait for something to happen, all you’ll be met with is the sound of a gulp, his breath still huffing against your skin. It’s silent for a few moments, before you brave a peek to look at him.

His eyes are wide, the yellow bright and still tinged with red as he stares at you. His chest is heaving, breaths falling heavily, and he’s biting his lip. Blood wells up against the wound, but he doesn’t seem to notice. No, he’s staring too intensely at you to notice anything.

Scared of how I make you feel? He questions, moving a few centimeters closer to you.

You nod shakily, swallowing down as much fear as you can manage as you whisper out that he makes you feel wanted, in a way I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know how to deal with that. I want to hate you, but I can’t.

He makes a sound then, like a wounded puppy, deep in his throat as his brows quirk up. Something in his stomach twists, a pleasant feeling settling at the base of his ribs.

You can’t hate me? You can’t despise me?

You nod, biting your lip, and Gyutaro stares at you for a few moments, before his arms are suddenly wrapping around your waist, his body closing the distance as he pins you against the wall, his face buried into your neck and his waist worming its way between your thighs.

You love me, you love me.

He’s chanting against your chin, a bit of his saliva getting onto your neck. His grip on you is tight, soffucating even, making it difficult to breath. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, and with a small, unsure swallow, you try your best to rub at any skin of his that’s available, soft petting motions that make another little whimper muffle against you.

You love me you love me you love me you love me –

It’s a mantra, like he’s trying to convince himself, but as he spends a good forty minutes repeating this to himself, keeping you trapped in his arms against the dirt wall, you’ll find yourself wondering if he’s really even lying – do you love him?

You hadn’t been lying when you said you aren’t able to hate him. He’s a monster and has killed countless people, kidnapped you, keeping you locked up and always touching you and forcing you to look at him, but do you love him?

Maybe you do, because as you find yourself relaxing into his arms, finding comfort in the feeling of his hot warm breath against your skin, you almost feel at ease. Maybe it’s survival instincts, maybe it’s something else – it doesn’t matter though, does it?

Because you’re stuck with him, and he’ll never, ever let you go.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

Gyutaro is less dangerous to you and more dangerous to those around you.

He’s by all accounts shy in the beginning of his obsession with you – stalking you relentlessly from the shadows, watching and waiting and never leaving your side for even a moment, content to simply see you as you smile and sleep and live your life.

He won’t ever hurt you – at least, not often – and in fact protects you to a fanatical degree, but the same can’t be said for the other people in your life.

He’s very, very willing to eliminate anyone he deems as competition for your attention and love, enjoying devouring them and ending their miserable lives in the most painful, drawn-out way possible. He views himself as your protector, watching from the shadows and acting as your twisted guardian angel, until suddenly it’s not enough – he needs more.

He needs to have you looking at him, acknowledging him, your pretty voice saying his name and your soft hands on his calloused, rough skin.

He needs to have you fall asleep in his arms, your breathing even and steady and so very precarious, your unaware and vulnerable state making him lick his lips and slowly, carefully, timidly press a clumsy kiss against your lips, immediately pulling back with pink tinged cheeks because oh, he wasn’t expecting your lips to be so soft and warm.

If you can look past the kidnapping, murder and invasions of your privacy, Gyutaro is honestly not the worst – he’s temperamental and difficult to handle with all of his triggers, but if you can find yourself balancing and managing to placate him, life with him won’t be too terrible.

He'll care for you as best as he knows how, keep you company whenever he can, drown you in physical affection once he musters up the courage, and over time his harsh comments will eventually morph into honest, genuine compliments about things so specific that you’ll feel seen, understood, perhaps even loved.

Because while Gyutaro may be rough around the edges and difficult to understand, he really does love you in some twisted, fucked up way – and if you’re to be stuck with him for the rest of your life, isn’t it better that you accept it?

Wouldn’t it just be easier for both of you to let him hold you, to whisper to him that you’re happy with him?

Just accept your fate – you’ll be much, much happier that way.

#yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #_gyutaro #_kny #_lee's profiles #yandere gyutaro

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moethewriter · 4 months

Note

Hey!! Could you do it prompt 7 and 9 with finnick, if you'd like? Thank you I love love love your writing

Of course I can anon! I'm feeling far better than I was two days ago and am excited to get back into writing! Please enjoy! TITLE: In Another Life WORD COUNT: 1.3k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNING: Mentions of Snow unaliving people, angst and general hunger games violence TAGS: GN!Reader from District 8! A/N: That stomach flu going around is really nasty y'all! But I'm happy to be back in the writing seat. As always please let me know if anything needs to be tagged and I shall fix it! Other than that please enjoy! Not beta read as per usual! -

You eyed the targets in front of you and grabbed one of the knives laying on the table, your chosen skill had always been knife throwing. You were good at pinpointing accuracy and taking out someone from a distance with nothing but a blade. The knife felt heavy in your hand as you flung it towards the target, and hit the bullseye. You smiled softly to yourself, and cracked your knuckles, ready to throw another.

“Look at you go, bullseye is back in the ring and everyone is in trouble” A familiar voice rang out from behind you.

You turned your attention away from the targets and smiled coyly at the blonde man in front of you, you knew him all too well. Finnick Odair. Well everyone and their mother knew Finnick Odair, he was The Capitol Darling after all.

“Finnick.” You said, leaning against the table. “Good to see you, again.”

“Is it?” Finnick raised an eyebrow and shot you a smile.

“As good as it can be, in the circumstances.” You gestured to the room.

Cashmere and Gloss were training together, you weren’t surprised in the slightest that The Careers were in their own bubble. Some other Victors seemed lost, almost nervous and unsure of what they had to do, or unwilling to show off once more. You had only briefly seen your old friend, Johanna Mason, she had been furious and still was. Some part of you hoped she was off destroying some Capitol property and causing issues, she always knew how to get people angry. You loved that about her.

“Yeah, not a fan of all of this.” Finnick said, a cross look passing his face. “Being paraded around before our inevitable death, not really my cup of tea.” He spoke so clearly, and you knew it was all a show for the people watching.

“Our death?” You snorted. “Not mine, I’m going to do everything I can in that arena to make it out alive, and I suggest you do the same, Odair.”

“You haven’t changed at all.” Finnick laughed, a real smile crossing his face.

It was nice to be surrounded by people who understood you in a fucked up way. You had become a recluse after your games, hiding yourself away in The Victors Village of District Eight. Snow had killed your family, and others you had loved after your adamant refusal to bend to his will, and you had shut down. People weren’t used to seeing you around anymore, and you knew Snow and The Capitol had been shocked when you had volunteered.

“I’ve changed a lot, actually.” You told him, grabbing a small towel to wipe the sweat from your brow. “And so have you … you can’t tell me anyone here is the same, Finnick.”

“That I can’t.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “But we’re still the same people we’ve always been, just a little more fucked up.”

“That I can agree with.” You tossed him one of the water bottles from the floor and he caught it perfectly.

Everyone who stepped out of the arena as a Victor always came home … a little more fucked up then they had gone in. You certainly had. The countless sleepless nights, and nightmares that plagued you to this day. You remembered every person you had killed, and the ones you didn’t.

“Are you ready for what’s to come?” Finnick questioned.

“Not in the slightest.” You admitted, finally showing some sort of vulnerability since you had left District Eight. “I mean it’s a Quarter Quell, there’s no way that they don’t have some sort of trick up their sleeve to mess with us in there. I mean think of the last one, double the amount of tributes? There’s no way the only catch is going to be that they reaped us.” You shook your head, and took a swig of the water in your hand.

Quarter Quells were extraordinarily different. Whatever Snow and The Head Gamemaker were planning left a sinking feeling in your stomach. Seneca Crane was gone, replaced with Plutarch Heavensbee … you wondered what sick tricks he had in his bag of nightmares.

Your arena had been a swamp, and it had barely been survivable. You had almost dehydrated in there … if it hadn’t been for your sponsors you probably would have.

“I know. I don’t like this.” Finnick nodded. “I don’t like that any of us are here, but we all should have known better than to trust the Capitol’s word … Snow’s word, that we would be left alone when we were done.” He snorted, screwing his eyes shut.

“Never trust a snake in the grass.” You nodded, not caring what anyone had to say about your words anymore.

You were taking a page from Johanna’s book during this whole thing. She let herself be known, and you were doing the same.

“Have anyone you’re fighting for?” You asked him, wondering if he had anyone back in District Four waiting for him.

“No.” Finnick shook his head. “Mags is in here with me, and the only other person I’d be fighting to get back home to is in this with me.” He was fiddling with his thumbs, almost as if he was nervous.

“Setting your sights on Enobaria and her teeth?” You teased, punching his shoulder, lightly. “Brutus might kill you for even looking in her direction.”

Finnick cracked a smile. “No. Definitely not Enobaria. Someone else, far more special than any Career that even steps foot through those doors.” He said, finally meeting your eyes.

“Finnick-” You started, the realization starting to dawn on you.

He was talking about you. Finnick Fucking Odair, was in love with you? Of course you hadn’t noticed, you barely saw anyone these past few years … how could he even think about you in that way? It didn’t make any sense.

“I don’t want anyone else, Y/N.” He said. “I haven't since I saw you after you won your games. Even before that I think. I remember sitting there and wondering how someone with … and no offence … no filter and grace could stand before me on that stage in District Four and give a speech like that. You changed me in a lot of ways and when you pulled away from everything … It killed me. I’ve thought about you everyday since you hid yourself away in District Nine and I haven’t stopped. I don’t think I could stop. I want you … I’m fighting for you, even if you aren’t fighting for me.” He reached out and gently grasped your wrist.

The gesture was so simple, yet it somehow filled your entire body with warmth.

“Maybe I’ll be fighting in there for you too … and we can see how this goes.” You told him, voice cracking.

You knew what the odds were in there, one was coming out, Snow would never allow another two Victors to grace that stage ever again. You were both doomed, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

He leaned in and kissed the top of your head.

“We should get back to training, I think we’ve taken too much time to talk.” He whispered, turning his back to you and setting his shoulders square.

Maybe in another life you could’ve had a great romance with Finnick Odair, but you were certain that both of you were far too late in this one.

“Yeah. See you soon?” You questioned, moving to grab a knife.

“I’ll be around.” Finnick swallowed the lump in his throat.

And with that you were alone, if you had been a better person you probably would have cried, maybe even kissed him right then and there. But you weren’t. You were just … you and all you could do was survive.

#moeswriting #writing #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #hunger games #the hunger games #angst

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ash-and-books · 7 months

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Rating: 4.5/5

Book Blurb: Starling House is a gorgeously modern gothic fantasy from the New York Times bestselling author of The Ten Thousand Doors of January. I dream sometimes about a house I’ve never seen….

Opal is a lot of things—orphan, high school dropout, full-time cynic and part-time cashier—but above all, she's determined to find a better life for her younger brother Jasper. One that gets them out of Eden, Kentucky, a town remarkable for only two things: bad luck and E. Starling, the reclusive nineteenth century author of The Underland, who disappeared over a hundred years ago.

All she left behind were dark rumors—and her home. Everyone agrees that it’s best to ignore the uncanny mansion and its misanthropic heir, Arthur. Almost everyone, anyway.

I should be scared, but in the dream I don’t hesitate.

Opal has been obsessed with The Underland since she was a child. When she gets the chance to step inside Starling House—and make some extra cash for her brother's escape fund—she can't resist.

But sinister forces are digging deeper into the buried secrets of Starling House, and Arthur’s own nightmares have become far too real. As Eden itself seems to be drowning in its own ghosts, Opal realizes that she might finally have found a reason to stick around.

In my dream, I’m home.

And now she’ll have to fight.

Welcome to Starling House: enter, if you dare.

Review:

A gorgeous story that fills like a mixture of Alice in Wonderland and a gothic fantasy! A girl who has dreamed of a mysterious house all her life finds herself drawn to the mysterious heir of the home, yet the house of plans of it's own and monsters that reside in it. Opal has been surviving all her life, through tricks, thieving, and doing whatever it is needed to provide for her younger brother after her mother's death. The only thing that has her attention besides all of this is Starling House. The house that haunts her dreams. Starling House is famous for being the home of E. Starling, a reclusive nineteenth century author of The Underland, a disturbed children's book, who disappeared over a hundred years. Everyone thinks that house is trouble and that the mysterious shut in heir of the home is just as strange. Arthur is the misanthropic heir of Starling House, he's the Warden of it... and he plans on being the last one. He knows that the House calls to people, making them dream of it, making them come in and when they are here they will be forced to deal with the deadly creatures of Underland, that are very real. Arthur doesn't want anyone else to die and be trapped in this role, yet he can't seem to turn away the liar and thief of a girl who has bombarded into his life, demanding to be let into the house. The more Arthur tries to protect Opal from the secrets the more she tries to dig in, it doesn't help that other people want into the house too and are willing to threaten her to betray him. How far will Arthur and Opal go for Starling House, can they even make a relationship work when there are so many lies, betrayals, and secrets between them? This was such a unique gothic fantasy story with hints of Alice in Wonderland and is perfect for fans of Gallant by V.E. Schwab! Opal is not a likable character, but that's what makes her great, she's willing to do whatever it takes to survive and take care of those she loves. She's smart, she's ruthless, and she's just trying to survive. Arthur is so sweet, he's trapped but can't help but want to connect to someone, yet e wants to protect her at all costs but his duties weigh on him. They are both so interesting and the overall story was great!

*Thanks Netgalley and Tor Publishing Group, Tor Books for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #bookish #starling house

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jupiterkittenwrites · 1 year

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Seeking Alpha Reader

Hello! I am seeking an alpha reader. Not beta, alpha. I write contemporary mainstream and romance. I have also dabbled in urban fantasy and scifi (lite mode). I write in third person past tense. My stories are about 50k with one clocking in at 75k and another at 39k. If you use the NaNoWriMo site religiously like I do, add me! I’m jupiterkitten there. :)

First question: Who the hell are you? My name is Shae. I’m an anxious recluse. I’m working on my mental health but as always, it is a battle. I’ve struggled with reading novels the last few years as reading fanfic has taken up most of my time. No, I don’t write it, though I wish I could. I’m one of those people that likes to dabble in a little bit of everything. Nothing holds my attention too long because I got to try the next thing. I more than likely have ADHD but we’re working on that diagnosis still. I’ve spent the last twenty years of my life wanting to craft stories more than anything and I got on meds and it’s finally clicked. Now, I need feedback. I used to be an alpha reader back in the day. I have fond memories of making notes in little bound books with a red pen. My grammar is terrible but I make up for it by understanding the larger mesh of a story. At least I hope I do. I’m in two writing Discords where I should be asking for help instead of screaming into the void of Tumblr but I’m so damn anxious, I can’t ask. So instead I’ll put this out there and see if someone screams back.

Second question: Why should I invest my time in your work? Fair question. I really don’t know if I have an answer. I’ll share two summaries and if you like it ayy maybe you’ll like the rest. Or maybe you’re looking for an alpha reader of your own and are willing to trade time? I’m down for that too.

Now for the summaries!

Contemporary romance:

When Sam meets B, her best friend's boyfriend best friend (bbb for short), she thinks he's hot as fuck and probably the funniest person she's ever met. Other than herself, of course. Major bummer though as she quickly finds out he's off the market. Not that it would be a smart choice to date him anyway, as she repeatedly tells herself. As she navigates the pitfalls of life, she finds herself growing closer with him until finally they come to an agreement: friends with benefits. Of course, she's a big fat liar and has the feels. Now what?

Contemporary mainstream:

All David wants to do is work on cars. That’s it, end of story. He wants to work on cars and watch people work on cars and drive cars. Everything in his life revolves around them. Well except his mama of course. So when he gets an opportunity to work for the crazy old witch in her shop, he doesn’t hesitate to take it.

Jamie knows she’s slowly slipping into becoming an old hag of a woman. She was still young, only a few years past thirty, yet all the kids called her a crazy old witch. She only yelled at the kids one time and it was with valid reason. She came out here to hide, not make friends. She needed a break from life and she’s not ready to give it up yet.

Together they navigate the pitfalls of life at wildly different stages of it. The friendship to family pipeline really can be a rocky one.

#writing #writeblr #writblr #jupiterkitten #alpha reader #beta reader #editing #editor #shooting my shot

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a-detraque-barista · 3 years

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Sweet Milk Tea

Jeon Jungkook x Shy Reader

Genre: s m u t, 18+, college, soft boi gguk

Word Count:1.8k+

Warnings: big dicc kook, unprotected sex, sensitive thighs??, insecurity (you and jungkook), jungkook enjoys eating you out a lil too much

A/N: wassup my honey buns~ just thought i’d drop this filthy self-indulgent trash here and leave until one of my wips get done...this is straight smut and very little plot :D

“At least I don’t go around parading my dick to all the girls in our course!” your voice cracked but it somehow didn’t throw off the menacing tone.

Everyone looked at you as if you were mental. You couldn’t blame them, it was the first time they had ever heard your voice. The first time you had snapped at anybody in front of them, or in general.

You weren’t one for talking to people you didn’t know very well. It just didn’t come as naturally as it did for others. It’s made you a societal recluse and most of the time, you didn’t mind it. And the looks on your classmates’ faces gave you a major confidence boost.

“At least people actually like me,” the asshole known as Jungkook hissed.

And there goes that confidence. Sure, you always claimed you don’t care about what other people think. However, just like any other human, we want someone to like us to create friendships and relationships.

Just like that, you walked out of the classroom and down the long hallway as if it was a normal day. The only thing different, you had tears in your eyes that were threatening to fall at any moment.

As you were just walking out of one of the exits, you felt someone grab your shoulder and pull you back. Your face met a solid chest, noticing the black leather jacket, you knew exactly who it was. When you went to pull away his arms tightened refusing to let go.

“I’m sorry.”

❦❦❦

Jungkook had you pinned beneath him on his bed. How this happened was a mystery. You had agreed to go to his apartment because he wanted to give you a sincere apology. What you said was over the line as well so you agreed. Everything was fine and dandy until syrup for the milk tea had splashed on your face and neck, even ending up on your shirt.

Seeing you in his shirt had Jungkook growing an erection. You just looked so cute, so fuckable. His cock decided it was time for Jungkook’s wet dreams to come true.

Especially now with such a bratty look on your face, all he needed was a solid yes, “Tell me, my love. Do you want me?”

You nodded, already wanting to feel him. Jeon Jungkook was sex on legs and you refused to admit how many times you’ve thought about him with your hand down your pants. He clicked his tongue, “I need your words.”

“I want you, Jungkook.”

Hearing his name come from your lips, had a shutter going down his spine. His lips crashed into yours as he firmly pressed his muscular thigh against your clothed pussy. He swallowed your gasps and quiet whimpers. Gradually, Jungkook applied more pressure but now he was rubbing his thigh back forth.

You were trying so hard to hold back your moans and whimpers making the man above you smirk into the kiss. Even as he pulled away breathless, he had that grin on his face. Your sounds were stroking his ego at this point leading him to lick and kiss your neck to see what else can make such adorable noises leave you.

He could still taste the remnants of the syrup on your skin. He was so very tempted to lick every part of your neck, just to make sure all of it was gone. But he removed his shirt from you instead. Placing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck, leaving behind a trail of purple and red marks.

You could feel your clit throbbing, begging for more attention. Jungkook could feel your hips move, creating friction against his bulge. He groaned before ripping your bra apart and began palming your breasts. He wanted you so bad but he didn’t want to rush things.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you would wake up tomorrow and never want to see him again. He wanted to make sure even if you do want to forget about him, you won’t be able to forget the way he made you feel. His insecure thoughts were interrupted once he noticed you squirming from the addition of his muscles flexing.

You were still keeping as much noise in as possible. Jungkook wondered how much teasing it would take until you gave up. With a grin he trailed his hands down your body, squeezing every now and then. One particular squeeze of your upper thighs had made you gasp. He froze before gently digging the tips of his fingers into the area causing you to whine.

He wanted to hear you whine again and again.

Jungkook finally tucked his fingers into the waistline of your jeans and panties and slid them completely off. Your lips were glistening and puffy. He couldn’t help but flatten his tongue and dragged it between your folds. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his skull at just the taste of you. The moan that escaped your lips didn’t help his grip on sanity.

With his control slipping, he started sucking and slurping like he was a man starving. Now you could no longer hold back your moans. And they only encouraged Jungkook even more. He kept his hands busy with massaging the upper part of your thighs making your moans sound whinier. His grip was sure to leave bruises for you to find in the next few days, reminding you of your time with the inky-haired boy.

Jungkook reluctantly let one of your thighs go to slowly slip his index finger into your tight pussy. Moving his mouth up to your clit he licked and suckled to his heart’s content. Your hands found their place in his raven curls, slightly tugging making Jungkook growl.

He couldn’t keep himself from bucking his hips into the mattress to get some kind of friction. He moaned into your pussy as he inserted a second finger. Gently stretching you so you can take him with as little pain as possible. Soon he added a third and picked up the speed he was thrusting at. You began to feel the tell-tale knot in your lower abdomen and Jungkook felt the way you started to quiver.

Right before the knot came undone, he pulled away. But he didn’t pull away enough to make your fingers leave his hair, which you tugged on in frustration.

“Jungkook damn it, I almost came,” you groaned taking your hands away from his scalp to perch yourself up on your elbows. He grumbled with the absence of your hands but loved the attitude you showed. So he sat back on his heels while running his hands along your thighs.

“But I didn’t want you to come just yet, my love. Be patient and I’ll give exactly what you want,” his deepened voice made the blush come back to your face full force.

Licking his lips, he started to undress. Shirt, pants, and underwear made their way to the floor. His cock sprung up and leaked precum. It was enough for him to slick his dick with, stroking it just for more precum to escape.

Jungkook would love to see your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, gagging on it. But both of you have waited long enough. He tucked his hands under your waist and flipped you onto your stomach, lifting until your hands and knees held you up. The bulbous head pressed through your lips and against your entrance. You were so wet for him, making both his cock and your cunt glisten.

You wiggled your hips a bit, the anticipation beginning to become too much. He chuckled before pushing in. Jungkook took his time, making sure to stretch you out properly. Shifting his hips back every inch before pushing in more than he had previously.

Never having taken such a girthy and long cock, the sting felt delicious as it made your walls form to his dick perfectly. The slight curve of his shaft made the head rub against that one special spot. Your breathy moans got louder the farther he went in. Jungkook growled and groaned above you.

Once his cock completely sheathed inside of you, grating his hips against your ass felt like he was trying to go even deeper. Jungkook thrusted slow and shallow, wanting to let you get adjusted. When you pushed back he got the hint and pulled out farther only to slam back into your tight cunt.

His head rolled back as he gradually picked up his pace but it snapped back up hearing your load and wanton moans. God, why did you have to sound wonderful? He wanted to make you moan so much your throat would get raw. Your arms could no longer hold yourself up, causing you to be muffled by his pillows. Jungkook didn’t appreciate the decreased volume of your beautiful sounds so he wrapped his arms under your tits and just above your mound.

His pace quickened as did his breaths, “Look at you, getting destroyed by my cock. What a mess. Can’t even stop moaning for me.”

You whined in response to his words as you could no longer create coherent sentences. It was almost becoming too much, your denied release coming back even harder. Jungkook’s pace became sloppy, the build-up paying off.

“Want my cum? Tell me, what do you want? Use that pretty mouth of yours,” Jungkook’s voice was now gravelly as he reached down to your clit but didn’t apply pressure.

“Please-please, I want your cum,” you gasped out, barely audible, but he accepted that.

Jungkook made quick, fast circles around your clit, causing your whole body to shake as your walls clenched and milked his cock. Feeling you tighten and quiver, Jungkook’s cock twitched and painted your walls. He laid both of you down, grinding his hips against yours until your cunt sucked him dry. He made sure not to put all of his weight on you while the two of you came down from cloud nine.

Jungkook kissed the nape of your neck before moving down to your shoulder. He couldn’t help but love the feeling of you breathless beneath him. The feeling of you both spent and tired together, trying to catch your breaths. Jungkook was reluctant to pull his softening cock out of you but he did nonetheless.

Leaving the room to get a damp cloth and clean the two of you up. You rolled onto your side facing him after he laid back down, also on his side. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. He could see the look on your face that held uncertainty. His mind went to the thought of you regretting ever coming to his apartment. Until you spoke.

“I’m sure you want me to leave now right?”

Jungkook’s eyes widening, just now seeing the insecurity in your eyes. He sighed as he leaned down to gingerly kiss your lips, “No, I want you to stay. Unless you want to leave.”

You shook your head and kissed his nose, “I wanna stay, until you don’t want me to.”

He chuckled before cuddling up with you and pulled the covers over, “Good thing I never want you to.”

#bts jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #college jungkook #shy reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk #slight dom jungkook

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dodo-begone · 3 years

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Beware the Beast

Pairing: Yandere!Philza x Reader

Request: Maybe some yandere!philza headcanons? You don’t have to!

Word Count: 2k

Warning: yandere, swearing, talk about kidnapping, depression (kinda detailed on that aspect)

A/n: I accidentally turned this into a story- i really need to stop doing that. But I just couldn't resist! Also sorry if Phil is OOC. And this isn't proofread. We die like men here. Can be perceived as platonic or romantic.

This man has lived many years, lost so many loved ones. He’s getting tired of this cycle. It’s truly exhausting. You start to care about the world less. After a while, you start to see too many similarities in things, making it hard to look at. So he starts to close his heart to others. It’s just easier that way, for both parties. Saves him from the heartbreak and them from… well, him. He also stops caring for himself. After all, he’s literally immortal. Nothing can kill this man, so neglecting some self care routines every once in a while wouldn’t hurt…

But this becomes such a bad habit of his. He barely cares for himself after a while. It’s hard to find the energy when it isn’t going to matter in the end. Nothing matters anyways. Every action will always prove fruitless in the end. So what’s the point in doing something so... small if it takes this much energy? If a past version of himself saw Phil now, they’d be disgusted. Telling him to just get up and care for himself. Come on, you’re immortal. Nothing can kill you. Just do this.

He’s a mess when you two meet. His platinum-blonde hair was mostly neat, a little shaggy. It was obvious that he just got himself cleaned up a bit. One can only do so much about deep eyebags, dull hair, and lifeless eyes on such short notice.

You were introduced to him through Ghostbur. Phil was overjoyed that Ghostbur was making more friends. Though much less pleased when Ghostbur insisted that he’d bring his new friend over to meet Phil. Oh come on Phil, you’d just love them. They’re so nice! What tortured Philza more than his first interaction with you? His conversations with Ghostbur about you. He’d just prattle on about things you and him did, about how much fun you two had and how nice you were. Always nice.

And you were nice, an absolute sweetheart. But much too perky for Philza’s liking. You two had been chatting for quite a while when Ghostbur silently leaves you two together. Well, you’re chatting. Phil is just listening to you, hoping that you’d leave at any moment. Some topics were brought up; they were mostly some small icebreakers to get acquainted more.

When your past was brought up, you’d always paint this fucking picture-perfect past. So peaceful. God, the envy he had of you, of the peace you experienced in your life- He felt bad for it, honestly, he did. But he just wished he could’ve had even a fraction of the prosperity you spoke about. For someone living in the DSMP, you had a relatively easy and steady life. No war, no major or sudden loss or anything of that sort. A perfect life.

After that, you just kept coming back. Why? Why are you coming back? Are you here to taunt him for the life he lived? For the life he’ll never have? Is some god sending you as a punishment? A living example of everything he gave up, had to leave behind. That’s what he believed, anyways.

That was far from your intentions. You saw how he was in your first meeting; jumpy yet dissociating from reality. An oppressive, glum aura seemed to just emanate him. So downtrodden and dead inside, yet so obviously alive on the outside. It hurt to see him like that, as you went through something similar. You had no idea how long he’d been like that, but you decided that you’d help him in any way that you could.

You tried to make it a daily thing. Everyday you’d go to Phil’s house around midday to afternoon. You two would talk for a bit, but you’d couldn’t help sprinkling your questions in. Have you eaten yet, mr. Philza? Have you had water today, mr. Philza? Have you preened your feathers, mr. Philza? Have you bathed today, mr. Philza?

Your questions irked Phil. Everyday, without fail, you’d come and talk to him. It’d be small talk at first; what the weather was up to that day, some light politics, Tubbo’s new adopted son. Small. Yet you’d always bring up his self care. He was a fcking grown man. He could take care of himself. What’s worse? You’d pester him to care for himself in that instant if he even showed a small sign of negligence. And you’d stay the entire time, making sure he did everything. And then you’d always add “mr. Philza” on the end. It was a sign of respect, yet it upset him so much. But he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was.

Though it was annoying, it got him in the habit of caring for himself. It was only to stop your pesting! That’s the reasoning. The only reason. It wasn’t because you’re congratulating and giving him treats when he remembered to care for himself. Or you petting his wings… Those were only bonuses! He swears!

It becomes more steady as time goes on; you go and visit Phil, you talk with Phil and see if he’s caring for himself, and if he was, you’d reveal a delicious treat from within your enderchest. You two would talk while munching on the food, having fun sharing what your pasts were like. Well, more like yours. Phil didn’t really talk about his.

But he still seems so cold, disinterested. Even with how long you’ve been going over for. Like he’s only listening to what you’re telling him. If he’s even listening. And seeing how he interacted with others like Techno and Ranboo, it really disheartened you. He was so much more lively with them, more natural. Loud laughing and silly little antics. It only took a few small, insignificant depression episodes for your self doubt to finally debilitate you. Though it only really affected your contact with Phil; he was a big insecurity of yours.

So you start to distance yourself. You were hurting and saw yourself as a bother to Philza. It would’ve been better if you just didn’t try to talk to him anymore. He’d be so much happier without you bugging him all the time. All of this sudden, open time gives you much more empty hours. There was nothing to do. So you did what you could; you went out to make or strengthen friendships. It was so nice. You never realized how everyone on the smp was so nice. Maybe they weren’t as bad as Phil was making them all out to be…

Philza was upset the first day you weren’t there. You were such a steady element of his day. You were like the very air he breathed; it was extremely hard to live without you. He never noticed before how much he needed you. Yes, he knew that he really enjoyed you, saw that you were a pillar, a constant in his life. He came to enjoy your visits, but hadn’t realized how dependent he became because of them. It was day three when Phil started to worry about you. Why hadn’t you come to talk with him, like usual? He’s taking care of himself, just for you, just like you kept insisting he do. And he made you some cake.

He knew he was acting odd, lovesick even. His love for you was toxic, extremely so. It wasn’t healthy, yet he couldn’t care less anymore. You were like his nicotine to a smoker; he couldn't live without you being in his life. His everyday life. So after some debating, he finally went out to look for you.

Traversing the nether wasn’t too bad, but still a tedious walk. He was stuck in his mind the entire trip there, wondering where you could be and what you could be doing. Maybe you got caught up in making something. A redstone project? That’d be pretty cool. Or maybe moving? No, if you were, you’d have told him. But that didn’t stop him from speeding up just a wee bit. Just to make sure you were actually still on the smp.

His mind was racing, thinking of any possibility of what you were doing. And his mind eventually hit something that absolutely terrified him; you could be sick, injured, or dying. It felt like the world just fucking stopped. This was a sudden loss of contact and you still hadn’t come to talk with him. So that… that means there’s a high probability of you being in danger.

He ran the rest of the way to the main part of the smp. When he came out of the portal, he frantically looked around for any sign of you. For your house. Then it hit him; he had no idea where you lived. You only mentioned it being cold where you lived, just like where he lived. So that most likely meant Snowchester. He started running toward the cold nation

On his way to Snowchester, he observed his surroundings. A little bit. He had to get to you, keep his eye on the prize. And he was glad that he looked around. There you were, on another part of the prime path.

He was overjoyed to see you, especially doing so well. Soon he came to a stop. Just floored by the fact you were there, in front of him. Frantically he tried to view you as best he could, looking for any sign of injury or illness.

Now he couldn’t come across as clingy or desperate. That wasn’t how you knew him. You know him as Philza; the kind but a mild social recluse. Not really going out to others unless he needed something or he was needed.

So he walked over to you, trying his best to look nonchalant. Like he wasn’t just desperately searching for you a moment ago. He called out to you and guess what happened? You started to walk away. He was stunned. Did you just ignore him? No, you must not have heard him. It was kinda windy out at the moment.

Logically he did the best option, following you. He had no clue where your destination could be. You were going to a different area of the smp than he had been. My how the smp changed since the destruction of L’manberg. He knew it changed, but it seemed so much bigger than what you described.

He didn’t exactly pay attention to where you were indirectly leading him. That was until a flash of movement caught his attention. Snapping out of it, he looked to see what could’ve been going on. Who could’ve been there. And what he saw before him was a terrible sight.

Quackity stood by your side, animatedly chatting with you. Phil was confused as to why you were talking to Quackity of all people. You two recently talked about how Quackity was problematic and arrogant. If you knew that, then why were you talking to him?

Awkwardly he watched you. Not within earshot, but where he could keep an eye on you and Quackity. And Quackity was looking at Phil too. His eyes spoke volumes; Quackity wasn’t pleased that Phil was there. Boy was that sentiment shared. It was tense between the two, yet you still seemed oblivious to what was going on.

Then Quackity said something, putting his hand on your shoulder and leading you somewhere else. But gave one last look at Phil, one that just spoke “fuck off”. Phil wished he could’ve told Quackity the same. To get him away for you.

Quackity’s action sparked a thought in him. A reason as to why you hadn’t come to talk to Phil; Quackity must’ve kidnapped you! Yes, that’s why you hadn’t come. It makes so much sense. Quackity knows you and most likely knows you talk to Phil.

With how easily you tell Phil of the people you’re talking to, he doubts that the behavior would just change. But that’s what must’ve gotten you in so much trouble; you were too trusting, too kind-hearted. You gave Quackity a chance and he was stealing you away, imprisoning you. You needn’t worry dear, he’ll rescue you from that foul man.

#tw: yandere #c: phil #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #philza x reader #dream smp x reader #yandere #yandere philza #yandere dream smp #dsmp shipping #tw: swearing #yandere x reader #yandere philza x reader #c: quackity #tw: depression #tw: mental health

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mickey-henry · 3 years

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𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐧𝐢𝐜

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky can’t help but love you

warnings: none! this is pure, precious fluff

prompt: “but when he loves me I feel like I’m floating | when he calls me pretty I feel like somebody” -beach bunny, cloud 9

author’s note: hello! this is my first fic I’ve ever posted (or shared with anyone for that matter). I hope you enjoy it! I was inspired by @sventeen-daybreak’s 600 follower writing challenge to post this. if you like it, please let me know! I’d love to post more in the future.

After a long, hard week of never-ending stress, you insist on treating your best friend, Bucky, to a day out. You guide him to a reclusive sunny meadow for a picnic, miles away from the bustle of everyday life. He’s at peace; the only sounds are birds chirping in the trees, the occasional patter of wildlife trotting by, and your melodic voice.

The two of you are laying on your backs, arms nearly brushing against each other, watching the clouds as they pass by. His attention is devoted to you as you’re staring up above, pointing out the shapes you see in clouds, laughing as your interpretations become abstract and ridiculous. The sun is sparkling through your hair, illuminating you like an angel. He can’t help but admire you. He loves the crinkle of your nose when you laugh and your bright smile. He is utterly smitten and hopelessly in love with you.

You shift to face him, laying on your left side and forming a triangle with your arm to prop your head. “You’re so pretty, Buck,” you murmur.

He’s stunned silent for a moment; he’s never been called pretty before. “You think I'm pretty?”

You blush, that thought wasn’t meant to escape your lips. “Yes, pretty. Has no one ever told you that before?”

He shakes his head.

“Well, you are. Guys don’t get told that enough, so I felt like you needed to know.”

He can barely fathom your kindness; his heart is soaring, floating alongside the clouds above. Your attention, your love, and your care make him feel like he’s somebody worth love. After all the years of torture, hurt, and despair, he didn’t think he would ever know something so bright and warm. He is utterly and irrevocably enamored by you.

He cups your cheek before he can stop himself. “So are you, Doll.”

You lean into his touch; he can feel the flush of your cheeks beneath his palm. He slowly leans in closer. His eyes dart down to your pillowy lips and back up to your eyes. You nod with a timid smile, welcoming his touch. He pulls you in, brushing your lips together for a moment before finally kissing you. The kiss is soft, sensual, and gentle.

“That took you long enough,” you giggle, you sun kissed cheeks reddening further. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever kiss me.”

“Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I don’t think I’ll ever have enough,” he purrs, his eyes filled to the brim with affection.

“You’ll always have me. I’ll be yours if you want me to,” you profess.

His heart swells at your admittance. “There’s nothing I want more,” he whispers, pulling you in again.

You remain in bliss, stealing kisses until the sun sets behind you. You’re utterly lost in each other and couldn’t be happier.

Bucky Barnes, your best friend and greatest love, is finally yours.

#devs600celebration #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #mickey-henry #bucky barnes fic #my fic: picnic #mel's writing

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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eternity. [zhongli/reader]

prompt: arranged marriage royalty au with zhongli, in which you are the child of the dendro archon, sent to marry the emperor of liyue. pairing: emperor!zhongli/f!royalty!reader word count: 3.8k warnings: fluff, kissing scene (don’t tell my mom) a/n: SUPER close to being gn!reader! i just couldn’t think of a gender-neutral term for empress, which is used twice in this story. otherwise, it’s completely gender-neutral if that sort of thing doesn’t bother you! there will be one of these for both diluc and childe too sometime close in the future! additional note: i tried my best to respect the culture liyue is based off (chinese) by incorporating some small aspects of chinese culture (clothes + titles)! if any of these are done incorrectly, please please PLEASE let me know so i can fix it!

to say you were nervous to meet your future husband was an understatement. you were a child of the dendro archon, an heir of the monarchist nation of sumeru. third-in-line for the throne, you held no chance of inheriting the throne. so, upon your 200th birthday and years of studying to be a scholar, your parents decided that marrying you off to another kingdom was the best choice for your destiny.

you just hadn’t expected it to be the reclusive archon emperor of liyue.

upon your first meeting with him, you were shaken to the core. he was sharp on the edges, yet easy on the eyes. his gaze was intense, amber eyes holding a subdued ferocity within their depths. his figure briefly alluded to the hidden power that lies within him, an unusual form for a god of war. he towered over you in height, reminiscent of the mountain scenery you had witnessed upon your journey to liyue’s capital. despite your worries, you did your best to remain cordial and gave a standing bow in his direction upon first meeting him.

any intimidating impression you had of him shattered at that instant as a deep, yet kind laugh escaped his lips at your actions.

“please, there is no need to bow,” the geo archon explained. “we are to be equals, are we not?”

one thing you hadn’t expected was for the geo archon, zhongli, as he insisted you call him, to have your same affinity for reading. being raised in a nation of scholars meant that their royal heirs were expected to always have their noses in a book and, fortunately for you, you had been more than happy to do so. the geo archon’s palace, situated on the edge of liyue harbor, had a library that rivaled that of your motherland’s.

upon hearing from his service staff that you had taken a liking to the royal library, zhongli had made it a point to come and read with you. the first time he had done so, you were so enthralled by the pulp fiction romance novel you had picked up that you had failed to acknowledge his presence. rather than interrupting you, the geo archon had silently sat down on the plush armchair, distanced from yours by a coffee table, and opened up a book as well. you hadn’t noted the turning of his pages and, if not for a servant to interrupt your train of thought to set tea down on the table before you, you weren’t sure if you ever would have noticed.

“oh, pardon me, i did not request any t-” you stated while the sentence you were reading. however, the words died on your lips as you glanced up, realizing the emperor and the servant were now both sitting before you. “oh.”

the single word escaped your mouth before you could stop it, but, fortunately, zhongli interpreted it as what you meant it as: a statement of surprise, not one of disappointment. a soft amusement twinkled in his eyes at your widened eyes, you being clearly shaken by not having noticed him sitting before you. he turns and smiles at the nervous-looking staff member and allows the man to depart the scene, who quickly scurries off.

“i hope i am not intruding,” zhongli states, turning the book in his hands over and resting it on his lap, pages downward. he leans forward, gently grasps his teacup (black tea, you noted, looking at its contents) and stirs it with an ornate, white iron spoon, cor lapis embedded in its handle. “the tea was merely a precautionary gesture. if you do not wish to drink any, please do not feel obligated to.”

you feel a faint heat rise to your cheeks, embarrassed at the thought of seeming like you were ungrateful for his kind gesture. he likely just wanted the tea for himself and did not wish to be rude, you told yourself.

“i- it’s not that,” your voice stammers in a soft tone, worried about your noise level within the quiet aisles of the library. “i just did not wish to have the hardworking service staff unnecessarily cater to me for something i did not place an order for. however, i appreciate the gracious gesture and am no longer perturbed by the action, knowing that it was something you called for. i appreciate the hospitality.”

the brunette quirked an eyebrow upwards and hovered his lips above his golden-and-white teacup before blowing softly on the liquid. you noted the geo elemental insignia molded into the bottom of the mug, seeming to glow the same color as his eyes.

“is that so?” zhongli’s words had an aura of amusement interwoven into them, entertained by your dissertation-length explanation. you nodded, feeling your face burn with bashfulness, and quickly redirected your gaze to the book at hand.

“pardon my interruption, but what is the book you are reading? you seem to be quite enthralled by it.”

the book held an illustration of a shirtless man holding a fair maiden close to him in front of the ocean, about as cheesy as you could get for any book cover. you weren’t sure how you were going to survive this conversation.

“it’s called… um…” you trail off, speaking in an even quieter tone than before. “love on the sea of clouds.”

if zhongli’s eyes held a faint amusement within them before, the amber pools are now glistening with delight. a chuckle escapes his lips. “oh? that’s one of my favorites.”

---

zhongli managed to contradict nearly any expectation you held of his behavior before you had met him. like most royals, you had expected him to act in an uncouth, entitled manner, who placed self-indulgence before the care of others. now, as you sat next to him in a meeting with the qixing, you realized he placed the care of his nation first and foremost. your mind trailed off as you watched his amber eyes shift with every word he spoke, his eyebrows making the most subtle of movements as his lips parted and closed. of course you were paying attention to what he was saying! you definitely weren’t using this as a chance to burn his visage into your mind!

“what do you think, (y/n)?” zhongli asks, turning to look at you. despite the two of you having a rather different fundamental knowledge of the world, his having been cultivated from his experiences leading liyue, and yours having been crafted from the presence of sumerian scholars, zhongli deeply valued your input on issues affecting liyue. he cherished the unique perspective you could provide on the nation’s affairs. normally, you were more than happy to oblige and help. one day, you would be his right-hand, his equal, he had once told you, but for now, you were not yet married and still acclimating to becoming a liyuean royal.

but at this moment? you feel ice cold mortification trickling into your veins. your failure to pay attention was now catching up to you as zhongli and the rest of the qixing looked at you, anticipating your response.

“well,” you calmly stated, trying to gather your thoughts. “i believe that to be a good idea, but…” you glanced away, pretending to be lost in thought. “you also need to consider the changing societal expectations of liyueans before doing such a thing.”

the answer was pulled completely out of your ass, but the spritely yuheng, keqing, could not have been more thrilled at your words. she immediately launched into a lengthy diatribe of agreeance, using your words to help back up her point. oh, harbor management. that’s what they were talking about.

as you forced yourself to pay attention to keqing, rather than ogling your husband-to-be again, you noticed a slight smirk cross his face out of the corner of your eye. to any of the other qixing in the room, it would seem like zhongli was happy with your answer, but you knew better. he knew you had spaced off staring at him and had put you on the spot to fluster you. his eyes were glowing with the amusement you had come to be familiar with.

---

your wedding date is approaching when zhongli arrives at your chambers one morning, guards and servants cast aside. he’s dressed in an ornate golden-brown suit, adorned with silver accents and matching gloves. the outfit, while complex, is a change of pace from his usual robes and traditional liyuean attire, reminding you instead of a well-dressed businessman.

“hello,” he speaks, looking slightly nervous, as if he doesn’t know the words to say. “would you like to accompany me somewhere?”

zhongli waits patiently for you to get ready in the sitting area of your chambers. you elect for an outfit that reminds you of his -- something respectful, yet less extravagant than typical royal garments. you arrive back to zhongli, your presence snapping him out of his reverie. his worry-ladened expression softens at your arrival and he musters a soft smile before standing up and extending a hand to you.

“shall we?”

---

zhongli takes you to a secluded memorial within the palace gardens, one you wouldn’t have noticed unless it was pointed out to you. the entrance is obscured by a variety of hanging plants, meaning that only those who know of its presence are likely to find it. zhongli’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly as he pauses at the entrance, before stepping forward, guiding you behind him.

the memorial, protected from the sun with plant-interwoven latticework, provides a sanctuary of shade from the warm atmosphere of the otherwise outdoor gardens. through the holes created by gaps in the foliage of ivy and sturdy lattice wood, sunlight filters in, allowing the marble statue of the woman within to glow in the sunlight. she’s dressed in antique robes, the kind you recognize from museums and your studies of old cultures. a warm smile sits on her face and her irises, made of cor lapis, shine with a kindness and wisdom reminiscent of zhongli’s. her arms are outstretched and cupped, as if she’s offering something to whoever views her statue.

zhongli takes the initiative to place the blossom of one of the glaze lilies growing near her feet within her palms and he lets out a soft sigh.

“this is guizhong, my first wife,” he explains, sitting down on the stone bench by the entrance. crystalflies flutter around your heads, their typically skittish nature calmed by the presence of the statue. “forgive me if this is too strong, but i brought you here for a chance to meet her.”

“she’s beautiful,” you state, glancing from the statue to look at zhongli. he looks worried, as if he’s afraid you’ll lash out at him for such a gesture. “thank you.”

“‘thank you’?” zhongli echoes, confused. you smile at him.

“if she is important to you, she is important to me,” you give the hand that still holds yours a reassuring squeeze, and zhongli gives you a smile, a genuine smile, his expression painted with relief and gratitude towards your statement. “would you like to tell me about her?”

zhongli parts his lips, lets out a soft chuckle, clearly having worked himself up over how this conversation would go. “guizhong lived many millenia ago and was known as the goddess of dust…” he begins, and unlike certain conversations prior, you listen attentively to his words, the outside world is forgotten to the two of you as zhongli tells you all about the first empress of liyue.

---

zhongli takes you to his favorite restaurant in liyue harbor that evening. the typically bustling patio is devoid of any other people, aside from fellow workers. zhongli had first explained, when you sat down, that normally he doesn’t mind eating amongst his constituents and typically prefers to do so, but wished to focus solely on you this evening. you had stammered profusely upon him saying this and he simply gave you an innocent smile, but zhongli’s eyes revealed that he knew of the effect he had on you.

tonight was a special night in liyue. the castle grounds had opened for one of the biggest festivals, the yearly lantern festival, and zhongli had chosen to spend it with you in seclusion. he loved his people, but always had been a reclusive god, typically only appearing to most citizens at the rite of descension. however, he did have his moments, such as now, where he traversed amongst the common folk, while still maintaining an aura of distance. he always felt a disconnect from his people, saying they preferred to view him as a holy figure rather than a true emperor. you never failed to notice the glint of longing in his eyes when he spoke of the idea of being able to truly fit in with humanity.

but those thoughts had been cast away for a quiet evening as the two of you placed your orders, with zhongli ordering half the menu. you have yet to try most liyuean cuisine, what’s a better time than now? he had said upon your confusion. zhongli’s rationale was an impregnable defense.

zhongli smiles at you, his brilliant white teeth glinting in the soft light of the restaurant’s festive lanterns. as the two of you wait for your food, he takes your hand, resting on the table, and interlaces your fingers. your eyes widen briefly, but you give his hand a light, reassuring squeeze in return.

“you look beautiful tonight,” he says, gesturing to the traditional festival garments you had adorned yourself in. you had asked the liyuean royal stylist if she had any liyuean hanfu for you to wear and she had clapped her hands excitedly and told you she had been waiting for you to ask.

“are you saying i don’t look beautiful every day?” you tease, causing zhongli’s eyes to widen and eyebrows to raise. he immediately began to dispute your claim, but your sweetened laughter caused his argument to fall short as he smiled at your amusement, even if it had been at his expense.

“oh!” zhongli exclaimed after your laughter had died down. “i have something for you.” the idea of receiving another gift, after zhongli had taken the time to reserve the restaurant and spend the day with you, caused yet another wave of heat to rise to your face, something that seemed to be a frequent occurrence as you spent time with him. zhongli’s non-occupied gently slides a ring box across the table, and, for a split second, a brief flash of lightheadedness crosses over you, but you remain heavy. oh my archons.

your hand detangles itself from his and cradles the box as if its made of the most fragile materials, before carefully opening it. a gasp escapes your lips upon seeing the ring inside. crafted of a brilliant cut of noctilucuous jade, the ring is a long, winding ring that wraps around the finger several times and is in the shape of a dragon, two small, cor lapis eyes embedded on its head.

“this is your exuvia, no?” you ask, looking up at zhongli. “it’s magnificent. thank you” upon your words, zhongli looks away, bashful as he nods and softly smiles in response.

“i am aware that upon signing the wedding contract, rings are a customary exchange in sumeru, even if they are not a liyuean tradition,” zhongli confesses and you feel your heart melt a bit at his consideration for your homeland’s culture. “additionally…” he trails off, his cheeks flushing as he sees you situate the gift on your ring finger and gaze at it admirably.

“hmm?” you ask, glancing up upon realizing he trailed off. a nervous look passes over his eyes and you smile encouragingly.

“it’s also a… public display of our contract, to show that my heart is solely within your possession,” zhongli admits, his words soft. his hand fumbles for yours, returning to the interlocked nature they held earlier in your conversation. rather than looking away, however, zhongli gazes upon you with an intensity in his eyes that you’ve had yet to see. his eyes lock on yours and you are reminded, for the first time, that this man is a god of war. a ferocious honesty dances within the honeyed depths, imploring you to recognize the veracity of his words.

“your heart?” you echo, for rex lapis is a god of war, but you are no longer afraid of bloodshed.

“ah,” he breathes, “perhaps i have not elaborated enough. i am in love with you, my empress. the luminosity of your eyes outshine even the most radiant of geoculi, your intellect and ceaseless conviction in improving your wisdom lays even the most studious of scholars to shame, your heart fueled with the golden blood of the greatest of immortals, the kind whom dedicate their lives to those who do not have the luxury of forever, unlike the-” zhongli’s words are harshly interrupted as you stand up, fueled by an adrenaline rush. you rip your hand out of his and the emperor fears that he may have overstepped boundaries, having been too intense with his words and affections for you.

you assuage his panic as you swiftly move around the table that separates the two of you and cup his face in your hands, bending over to meld your lips upon his. the archon responds nearly immediately, his hand wrapping around your waist, ushering you to rest upon his lap, rather than be forced to lean over. your lips part and the archon deepens the kiss, his free hand reaching up to cradle your head, gently brushing against your hair, treating you as if you’re made of fine china.

when the two of you finally part, zhongli looks at you with an expression of fondness and adoration. you make a move to stand up, but zhongli’s arm tightens around your waist.

“stay,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “please.” his grip loosens, allowing you to make your escape if you wish, but instead you sit sideways on his lap, leaning in to rest your shoulder upon his chest, your head nestling into where his shoulder meets his neck. your hand once again interlaces with his free one and you feel his thumb swirl the ring around on your finger. as you look down at your hands, zhongli nudges you ever so slightly.

“look,” zhongly whispers, his lips upon your ear. you have to prevent yourself from shivering in response to the low vibrations. “the first lantern, lit for the empress.” “is that a tradition?” you ask, surprised as you watch the first lantern fly high into the night sky above you. zhongli chuckles.

“i can see to it that such an action becomes a festival tradition, if you’d like,” zhongli offers sincerely and you give an airy giggle in response.

the night continues on and as you’re about to fall asleep to the sound of zhongli explaining the history of the liyuean lantern festival and the vibrations produced from his chest, the two of you are forced to part as the servers bring out your food. you sheepishly move back to your own seat, embarrassed to be caught in such a compromising, intimate position. however, zhongli looks the opposite, sending an unabashedly smug grin in your direction. as the geo archon tells you about each dish and their origins, your heart melts at the idea of realizing that you’ll spend forever with this man, waking up at each other’s side every day. upon this revelation, a question pops into your mind.

“zhongli,” you begin, making sure to tone your words with one of innocent inquisition, not accusation. “of every being in teyvat, you chose me. you’re the geo archon and emperor of the most economically prosperous nation, you could’ve had anyone. what made you agree to marry me?”

you await zhongli’s answer while munching on another jade parcel, your favorite dish of the night.

“oh,” zhongli responds, a bit startled that you asked such a question. “i was enthralled by your work published within the sumeru arcademia. your work on the historical and economic analysis on the inazuman tea industry was quite fascinating.”

you pause for a brief moment, before an uncharacteristic, raucous laughter escapes your lips. upon this, zhongli looks at you sheepishly and a bit confused.

“is such a thing peculiar to do?” he inquires, causing a break in your laughter to reassure him.

“yes, absolutely,” you confirm to your lover. “but i absolutely adore such a notion! tell me, what was about my financial prose that made you desire to bed me?”

upon your words, zhongli flushes a deep shade of scarlet, darker than what you’ve seen before. you decide it’s your new favorite color.

---

the date of your wedding arrives and your emotions are a far cry from the ones you experienced when you first stepped foot in the liyuean royal palace. the emperor, known to some as the fearsome god of war, to others as the strict morax, god of contracts, is now known to you by the sweet name of zhongli, a name reserved for you and you alone. rather than relishing in the bloodlust of the battlefield as he once did when he was much younger, rex lapis now desires your companionship and velvet touch.

when he was a much younger archon, he had not told the woman he loved his true emotions until it was too late. while they had ruled together, they had remained nothing more than friends due to his hestiance. but now, zhongli knew what he desired and was determined to let you know his affections before it was too late.

as you step foot into the palace chapel, all eyes are on you, but the only ones you care about are those of your lover, zhongli. you float down the aisle, captivating all onlookers in an outfit that fuses both the sumerian fashion of your past and the liyuean styles of your future. at the end of the aisle awaits your emperor, your lover, your husband, and the two of you will combine your two eternities into one. together, you will sign an eternal contract with the god of contracts, your first one with such a deity, yet your most important one.

with this thought in mind, you smile at your lover as you meet him at the altar, taking his hands in yours. with locked eyes, the two of you grin, ready to sign the contract of forever.

#i got carried away this was supposed to be just a scenario but emperor!zhongli has my heart #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #*zhongli #*writing #*fic #*50 follower celebration

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rainy-autumn-day · 4 years

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10 Books to read this Autumn & Halloween🍁🍂🍁

1. Dracula by Bram Stoker

This start of beautiful season off with something classic and a little scary.

The name of Dracula brings to mind visions of vampires, stakes, garlic, and crucifixes. Yet, when you read the novel, it becomes self-evident how twisted modern vampire fiction now is. The vampires in this classic story are not meant to inhabit the roles of heroes. Instead you go back a few hundred years when men and women believed truly that the vampire was a real immortal, cursed to quench his undying thirst with a living mortal’s blood. The very idea of a blood drinker should, therefore, inspire the image of a villain and that is what the titular character of this novel is. A villan you can’t help but keep reading about.

2. And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

Another story that is perfect if you want something that will keep you up at night like it did for me when I read it last year.

There is scarcely any comfort to be found in this book, only an ancient, arcane horror. Ten people receive a mystery letter from someone they don't know that indicates they should come to a remote island. Why would they go????? After arriving, they try to figure out the connection between all of them while waiting for their mysterious host. After coming across a cute little poem about how ten little indians die, they decide they will wait it out until the next morning when the ferry comes back to take them home. But it will never come! Each guest suddenly dies matching the line from a poem. It really keeps you on the edge of your seat.

3. THE BONE WITCH BY RIN CHUPECO

A story about a young witch just fits so well with this season, but this story is not about a teenage witch =just flying around on a broom. No it’s far darker than that. When Tea accidentally resurrects her brother from the dead, she learns she is different from the other witches in her family. Her gift for necromancy means that she’s a bone witch, a title that makes her feared and ostracized by her community. But Tea finds solace and guidance with an older, wiser bone witch, who takes Tea and her brother to another land for training.In her new home, Tea puts all her energy into becoming an asha—one who can wield elemental magic. But dark forces are approaching quickly, and in the face of danger, Tea will have to overcome her obstacles…and make a powerful choice.

4. Night Film by Marisha Pessl

This story opens in October on a cool evening with a blood chilling scene, it’s really everything you could hope for on a autumn night.

Night Film opens on a cold, cursed October evening, when Ashley Cordova, a young women full of potential, is found dead in a warehouse. Police rule her death a suicide, but investigative journalist Scott McGrath isn't so sure. From that inception point, Scott McGrath enters the strange circumstances surrounding Ashley's life and death, and comes face-to-face with the legacy of her father: the legendary, reclusive cult-horror film director Stanislaus Cordova--a man who hasn't been seen in public for more than thirty years. For McGrath, another death connected to this seemingly cursed family dynasty seems more than just a coincidence. Though much has been written about Cordova's dark and unsettling films, very little is known about the man himself. Driven by revenge, curiosity, and a need for the truth, McGrath, with the aid of two strangers, is drawn deeper and deeper into Cordova's eerie, hypnotic world. The last time he got close to exposing the director, McGrath lost his marriage and his career. This time he might lose even more.

5. Autumn by Ali Smith

Ali Smith's lauded Seasonal quartet, a series of four novels rooted in a different time of year, kicks off with Autumn there we watch as love is won, love is lost. Hope is hand in hand with hopelessness. The seasons roll round, as they always do.

6. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I can’t tell you how many times i have read this beaful story in my life buti wants have it one my list to read at last once a year and i find it fits so well in to the amazing season that is autumn with The romantic clash between the opinionated Elizabeth and her proud beau, Mr. Darcy, is a splendid performance of civilized sparring

7.I Know Who You Are by Alice Feeney

This story is haunting and it will stay with you after you read it.

It's dark, twisted and unpredictable until the very last chapter keeping me on the edge of my seat from the very beginning. You are met with the unknown as you meet Aimee Sinclair, an actress who after coming home, she realizes her husband is missing and after that you are sent on a wild ride to find him.

8.Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Another classic. I have always found that that reading about a world now gone is so very perfect for autumn, as we watch the leaves we had watch grow turn colors and fly away from us.

Little Women is a beauty told story with each of the sisters seeks out a different form of happiness: Meg wants to marry, Jo wants to be a writer, Beth wants to care for her family, and Amy craves material success. We get to live their world as we following the lives and loves of the four March sisters and their mother as they mature from youth through adolescence and adulthood.

9.Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

If you love gothic horror, this one is for you. It has the same feeling as Jane Eyre but way creepier and set in 1950’s Mexico.

The atmosphere is perfect for the season, a debutante heads to a creepy countryside house, after receiving an ominous letter from her newlywed cousin, and finds the dark secrets that lie within the house and its occupants.

10.The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James

A suspenseful and eerie mystery told via dual timelines all surrounding a rundown roadside motel and the secrets lurking that captivated a woman so much that she went missing in the 1980’s and now have caught the attention of her niece 35 years later. If you love a good mystery mixed with timeline jumping this a perfect one for you.

Bonus

11.The Year of the Witching by Alexis Henderson

Handmaid’s Tale meets Salem: Born of rebellious feminist resistance by a girl who is branded as cursed because of her mother’s sins and facing the dark powers to make definite and concrete changes at the dystopian, puritanical, secluded society consisted of hypocrisy, ignorance, illogical and unfair laws.

This is another terrifying, fist clenching, soul shivering, mind crushing, heart pounding, forehead sweating, edgy, spooky, bleak, dark journey take you to the dark woods to face the four witches are ready to haunt you in your dreams and place a quite irritating thoughts inside your brains.

#reading #read #Halloween #autumn #books

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scoopsahoy · 3 years

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Would you be willing to do something with Isaac Lahey where like the reader is being tracked by Gerard and his crew without Chris and the reader wakes up and Isaac's sitting in her room and it scares her and she invites him into the bed and they talk? Fluff or smut is up to you.

ぺ word count ⋰ 1.8k

✰ tw ⋰ none :)

❍ cw ⋰ some mentions of violence

✐ masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

You opened your eyes to the moonlight illuminating your room, allowing you to see your furniture. You looked to your left to the chair in the corner that your bed was against, jumping when you saw a figure sitting in it, snoring softly. You recognized him as Isaac, and you groaned.

You grabbed the extra pillow and threw it at him, and he woke from his slumber with a flinch and a mumble.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, even though you were home alone and there was no one to wake up.

“Guarding you.”

“Well, you were sleeping.”

He rubbed his eyes to wake up. “Ugh, yeah, sorry.”

You scooted backward, clearing up enough room on your full-size bed. “Come lay down,” you said, seeing a look of hesitation on his face. “Come on, it’s more comfortable than that chair.”

He stood up and took a few steps toward the bed, laying the pillow back in its place and kicking his shoes off. He awkwardly got comfortable next to you, immediately noticing how close you two were. Your knees were touching his, which you could see made him red in the face.

“You could’ve told me you were gonna be here,” you said to break the tension. “You scared me when I woke up.”

“I just figured you would’ve said you didn’t need protection like you always do.”

“I might’ve surprised you,” you defended. “Plus, when I’m, ya know, being hunted down by Allison’s grandfather, sitting in my room without me knowing probably isn’t the best idea.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be intrusive-”

“You’re not.” Your response made him smirk. “Just warn me next time.”

He nodded once. “Will do.”

It was silent for a few seconds. Changing the subject, you asked, “Do you ever wish you could go back?”

“Go back?”

“Yeah. To before you got bit? When you were human?”

“Oh. Uh... No, not really.”

“How come?”

“Because before all this, I was still living with my dad. I’d still be getting locked in a freezer as punishment and getting beat for small things.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a good reason.”

“What about you?”

“I’m still human,” you chuckled.

“No.” He returned the laugh. “I mean before you knew about all this. Before you had to be guarded because your life is in danger.”

You thought for a second. You hadn’t known about all of this very long, only a couple of months. But Deucalion and his alphas chose you of all people to take hostage and torture because you were friends with Scott.

Isaac was the one who found you and rushed you to the hospital, taking some of your pain on the drive and revealing that he was a werewolf. Since then, you two had become good friends, and he was keen on protecting you.

But you’d also become much closer to Scott, Allison, and Lydia, and you’d also become best friends with Stiles and Kira. It surprised you that Derek was so willing to be your friend, as you’d always heard he was a recluse.

“No,” you answered. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t have met you. And everyone else.”

“You also wouldn’t be covered in scars.”

“True. But these are my battle scars,” you said, making him laugh. “I’m a survivor, I should flaunt it. Plus, I wouldn’t really know how to defend myself if I never knew.”

“That’s also true.”

There was a moment of silence. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Anything.”

“Do you ever miss him? Your dad?”

He took in a deep breath and you could tell it wasn’t something he was eager to talk about.

“Sometimes. I mean, we had some good memories together. Not many, but some. Plus, there’s the whole orphan thing.”

You nodded. “I get that.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

“I see you and Stiles together a lot and... Are you guys...”

“What?”

“Together?”

You raised your eyebrows. “What? No. I think he and Malia are a thing. I don’t have feelings for him like that.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“Just wondering.”

You squinted, a smirk spreading across your face. You scooted your upper body slightly closer to him, surprising him a bit.

“Why were you wondering?”

He reeled his head back slightly. His eyes landed on your lips for a couple of seconds. “I just was.”

You and Isaac had chemistry. You didn’t even realize it until you were crammed in a janitor’s closet with him after school one day, trying to hide from Deucalion. Your face was only a couple of inches from his, and the look in his eyes was pure terror.

“Isaac,” you whispered. “I’m not even a werewolf and I can hear your heart pounding.”

“Sorry, just... I thought you were gonna die out there.”

“Me? What about you?”

He shrugged. “I’d rather it be me that gets hurt than you.”

That night, seeing him step up to protect you and his friends, was the night you fell for him. He’d taken a bad beating from Ethan and Aiden, and you took him back to your house to treat his wounds.

You sat him down on the toilet and crouched in front of him. “Why aren’t you healing?” you asked frantically as you wiped dried blood from his face.

“They’re from alphas. It’ll take longer to heal.” As you began stitches on his stomach, he asked with a wince, “How do you know how to do this?”

“I got hurt a lot as a kid, and one day my dad figured band-aids weren’t enough. He taught me basic first aid and stitches and stuff.”

Sitting on the edge of your bathtub across from him, you stared down at your hands that were covered in blood. A tear dripped onto your thumb and you sniffled, getting his attention.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, getting down onto his knees and crawling over to you. He looked down at your hands, then back at your face. He reached up and wiped your cheeks, drying them off as best as he could. “It’s alright.”

“You could’ve died tonight. I watched them beat you half to death-”

“Y/N, stop. It’s okay. I’m alive.”

“You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Like I said, I’d rather get hurt than you get hurt. Plus I’ll heal. Really, I’m fine. I can already feel it healing.”

You wiped your nose with the back of your wrist. He cringed and you looked at him. “What?”

“Stand up,” he said as he also got to his feet. You looked in the mirror and saw you had blood smeared across your cheek and upper lip. It only made you cry more, and he led you to the sink. He washed your hands off for you before taking a washcloth to your face, wiping all the blood off.

“Thanks,” you said with a small smile.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Neither of you stopped looking at each other for a moment. You were the one who looked away first when you saw he had began to slowly get closer to you.

“I can drive you home,” you offered. And that’s exactly what you did. Neither of you had been alone together since that night two weeks ago, which brings you back to laying in your bed with him, your face inches from his.

“Mm.” You scooted back to your original place. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

“Can I... do something?” he asked out of the blue, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Like what?”

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while.” He leaned down and connected your lips gently, almost like he was afraid of hurting you. One hand landed on the bed by your side, keeping you next to him, and the other held his weight up.

You pulled his face into yours, deepening the kiss and immediately causing him to do the same.

The passion with which he kissed you was like no one had ever kissed you before. You could tell he’d wanted to do that for God knows how long.

In a split second, he was on top of you, his thighs settling between yours. You wrapped your legs around his, using your feet to pull his body in close to you.

His kisses traveled to your jaw, making you let out a deep breath. Your hands reached up to tangle in the back of his short hair before he sat up on his knees to pull his shirt off.

Your hands dragged over his chest and down to his lower back, feeling a few moles scattered here and there.

Just then, the two of you heard a loud bang downstairs. He broke the kiss and you looked toward your door.

“We need to leave,” he said, immediately jumping off of you and slipping his shirt back on. He grabbed your hand once the two of you had your shoes on and dragged you over to the window, jumping out first and then pulling you out behind him.

You looked down to the ground, realizing how far it was from your feet. It made your heart pound and your head spin.

He leaped off the roof and landed on the grass below, holding his arms out to catch you when you jumped. You hesitated but when you heard your door open and hit the wall, you took a deep breath and hopped into the air, landing in his arms.

He set you down onto your feet and grabbed your hand once again, running with you to his car.

When you were about two miles from your house, he pulled into the Beacon Hills Preserve and parked at the entrance, allowing the two of you to take a deep breath.

Neither of you looked at each other for a moment.

“Isaac-” You were cut off by the feeling of lips hitting yours, and you kissed him back. When the kiss ended, he looked at you.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

“Good. If anything happened to you-”

“I’m okay, Isaac. Really. I’m just glad you were there.”

He smiled at you. “Well, I have no idea where we’re gonna go now.”

“We could just sit here,” you suggested. “Hopefully they didn’t follow us.”

“I doubt they did.”

You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but you did. You hadn’t even been there an hour before you closed your eyes, and you had no idea that he was staring at you, watching you snore.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #imagine #isaac lahey #isaac lahey fanfic #isaac lahey fanfiction #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x reader fanfic #isaac lahey x reader fanfiction #isaac lahey x reader imagine #isaac lahey x reader fluff #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fluff

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simeonisalesbian · 3 years

Note

Hey so how would the obey me demon bros deal with a s/o who’s been a bit distant all week and if the demon boy asks what is wrong, s/o tells him “I’ll let you know when I’m done thinking about it”. They’re thinking hard about whether to take this potion they obtained or not. A week goes by and s/o confesses that they made a decision about something and they’ve took a potion to expand their lifespan a couple thousands of years instead of just living to be 100, s/o wants to spent more time with their demon boy, but they also realised 100 years is such a short amount of time for a demon, they’d be all alone after just 100 years for thousands of years?

Lmao you're filling up my ask box with so many big brain ideas all at once! This isn't a complaint at all btw so thank you ^.^

Lucifer:

He notices you been a bit more spaced out through the day and asks you about it later in his office

he's content with your answer. There are times when he needs a bit of space to reorganize his thoughts so he doesn’t mind

Of course, he is curious what you could possibly be thinking about. It couldn't have possibly been something he's done, right?

He does try not to dwell on it however he does start snapping at his brothers more often and for the smallest of things.

He also seems to be working later than usual. You can't help but wonder if he's slept at all actually.

He looked half asleep when you came into his office to explain what you were thinking about the past week.

When you tell him what you decided he visibly relaxes.

"You know you could have discussed this with me, love. That's a large decision to make on your own, though I am very pleased with the outcome."

He hadn't realized how worried he was about losing you until you were so distant this past week.

Now he just held you in his arms glad to have you with him longer than what would have originally been.

Mammon:

when you start being a bit more distant and don't seem to be paying as much attention to him he immediately panics

your response doesn't help him much either

Thinking about what? Did he do something wrong? He stole a couple of your sweatshirts but that can't be it, right?

If you suddenly start finding objects that you thought you lost well Mammon doesn't have much to say about it.

it's not like he took em or anything so you can't be mad at him for it. Please don't be mad at him

you acting weird and distant makes him act all weird and he ends up sucking up to everyone trying to figure out where he fucked up.

Now you have all of the brothers worried because Mammon doesn't pay off his debts for any random reason.

when you do finally explain he just hugs you

"Just tell me this shit, you stupid human. I was worried you hated me." The last part was mumbled.

It then sinks in what you finally said.

He's thrilled that he has longer to be with you. He's hugging you even tighter now telling you just how much he loves you.

He didn't ever want to bring it up but your mortality did weigh on his mind everyone and a while.

Insist you two go to a casino to celebrate. You just made him the luckiest demon in the world Mc he's gotta take advantage of this luck while it lasts!

Leviathan:

he notices your more distant when you weren't paying nearly as much attention while you two were playing a game

he pauses to ask what's up and nods as you give him the answer

He's fine with it at first. Then he starts getting in his head about it.

What were you thinking about that you didn't want to tell him? Did he forget a date again? He did get really into a new game the other day it's possible he forgot. Oh shit, what if he forgot too many dates and you were thinking about breaking up with him. Maybe your sick of being with a gross otaku like him...

Levi's mind really is his own worst enemy here.

He becomes more reclusive and stays in his room the entire week just kinda moping about.

When you finally do come to tell him what you were thinking about he completely interrupts you crying his eyes out

"Please don't break up with Mc. I- I- I know I'm not the be-best at dating or even being your boy- boyfriend b-but I can try harder! I can give up video games for-uhh- for a few hours- no wait days and- and-"

you have to stop him and reassure him that you are definitely not breaking up with him.

When you finally do explain what you were thinking about and that you chose to take the potion he starts tearing up again

Don't worry they're happy tears this time He's just so overwhelmed. In fact, he's so excited he just hugs you crying into you mumbling 'I love you's between breaths

Satan:

he notices you were staring at the same page of a book for far too long to actually be reading so he asks what wrong

He's fine with your answer but makes sure he's there to listen if you want to talk about whatever it is you're thinking about

He does keep an eye on you just to make sure you don't seem unhappy with him or anything

and you don't seem upset. Just lost in thought. He is still slightly concerned though. You've been think for a while now. You'll talk to him if you need to, right?

He definitely seems a bit more irritable this past week and Lucifer is growing really sick of how many pranks have been played on him.

When you do finally explain why you were so distant he's speechless. He's just so filled with love and adoration he can't find words to express it.

He just holds you close thrilled he'll have more time than planned for with you.

If you notice his eyes are a bit wet well he found some dusty books is all. He's not crying don't be ridiculous.

Asmodeus:

He's very concerned when you start acting a bit distant.

He smiles telling you not to "think too hard it will give you wrinkles!"

He does worry a bit though. Is he being too clingy? Is he not being attentive enough?

He's so good when it comes to short flings or one-night stands that he worries he's not good enough to be in a long-term relationship.

he does try to push the thoughts out of his mind. He does trust you enough to tell him straight out if he did something wrong. Communication is key after all.

That doesn't stop him from having a self-care day every single day. The stress of you thinking is going to ruin his natural glow!

When you do finally tell him he practically screams out of excitement before attacking you with kisses

"Oh, darling this is so exciting! I'll make sure you never regret your choice ever I love you so much!"

Beelzebub:

He is worried as soon as he notices you eating a bit slower than usual and seems a bit spaced out.

He asks if he did something wrong first, before asking what's wrong in general.

he doesn't mind that your thinking about something. He's just worried that something happened that has you thinking this hard.

Are you certain he didn't do something wrong? Did his brothers do something wrong? Was a random demon mean to you? He can just eat them if that's the case.

He does eat a bit more than usual causing everyone else to get annoyed that they have to refill the fridge 3 times in one day

when you do finally come forward and tell him you drank the potion he just engulfs you in a bear hug. He's so very happy he doesn't have to worry about losing you anytime soon. You might have to tap out of the hug though since he'll start breaking bones if he hugs you any tighter

Belphegor:

Asks you when you zone out instead of actually napping with him.

He grumbles joking that you should think quieter since it woke him up.

He doesn't actually fall asleep afterward though.

He's concerned he did something that made you upset again. You'd tell him if he did right? He doesn't want to go through the effort of pushing you if you aren't going to tell him. If you're upset you should just yell at him instead of saying you thinking or whatever.

He'll act all petty until you tell him what's up. Your best pillows are magically going to disappear and the soft blanket you love so much is now always being used by the sleepy demon

When you finally do tell him he feels like a bit of an asshole for stealing your entire bedspread.

He's not the best at expressing his feelings so he'll just cling to you mumbling how he loves you to the moon and back.

Not only have all your pillows reappeared but you have the best dreams for a few months straight.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons

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punemy-spotted · 3 years

Text

Of Blackbirds and Barons: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You Make The Rain Fall Harder

Relationships: Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader; CEO!Billy Russo x Reader; Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader x CEO!Billy Russo

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con; Dark!Fic; Mob and Mafia Elements; Character Death (Minor and Major); Threesome; Possessive/Obsessive Characters; Blackmail/Coercion; Kidnapping; Mentions of War; Human Rights Violations; Contract Killing; Mafia AU; Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat; Complete Disregard for Actual Rules of Journalism and Style Guides; Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply

Chapter Specific Warnings: Non-con; Drugging/Date-Rape; Fingering (F-Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Unprotected Sex; Possible Breeding Kink; Kidnapping; Obsessive/Possessive Zemo; Dark!Zemo; Human Rights Violations; Discussion of Destruction of Novi Grad and Sokovia; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The problem with having sympathy for the Devil is that he will drag you down to Hell regardless.

Author’s Notes: Another series! Because I can’t get enough of Mob!AUs! Zemo makes his dark entrance. And this IS dark, so read at your own discretion. As always, all of my work is 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Masterlist

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia, that which once stood the test of time against the Tsars of Russia, began to crumble long before its borders did, its sweeping architecture and decadent mystery giving way to the sharp lines of Brutalism and the characteristic industrialism of the Eastern Bloc. Still, the Sokovian people managed to maintain their identity in the face of a new kind of empire, bringing greenery and art to a brisk, concrete world.

There is no Sokovia now, not the way one would think, but there are still Sokovians scattered around the world, clinging to the traditions of their once-home and searching for a banner to be united under.

A banner carried by a man like Helmut Zemo.

The caret blinks back at you with a mocking sort of finality, a metronome counting down the seconds to your ultimate frustration. Once. Twice. Thrice — you lose count, staring at the screen until your vision crosses and the words blur together, until only his name remains.

Zemo.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

Your notes are expansive, excessive, papers strewn about you and you look at each scribbled anecdote, each carefully dictated word, each photograph you have annotated until it is more red marker than actual picture and you are… frustrated.

Where do you put all that passion? He asked you over champagne and charcuterie.

You know this man.

You know this man like you know your own soul. You know this man who has bared his soul to you in turn and how are you supposed to impress upon the world that he has shown you the broken heart beating slow and painful in his chest in just a thousand words?

There is nothing. Nothing you can do, nothing you can saywhich could even begin to encompass the horrors which he has experienced and now as you painstakingly tap out word after word describing the grand beauty of his apartment, you wonder if this really was what your life was meant to be.

These are… fluff.

This is a man who has managed to unite an entire fractured country under his royal banner and yet the project wants to know about the indoor garden of his apartment, wants to photograph him in fine suits and know his haircare routine and this can’t be it. This can’t be the face of the man you see everywhere now, moreso since you picked up the assignment, purple-masked and surrounded by brass wings, over the homes of Sokovians all over New York.

And not just there.

I am a man, he told you with his hand on your thigh, But I can become an idea. And an idea is immortal.

You let your eyes skim over the photographs you took, a collection of banners and graffiti and billboards all proclaiming the need for the Sokovian people to come together and heal. To show that their small country — broken and divided in the wake of an attack by a rich megalomaniac’s private military — could not be taken down simply because its borders had been erased and its capitol turned to rubble.

We live in an age of information, and through information we are boundless.

It should terrify you.

It does terrify you.

But inside of that terror is a sick fascination with the man, isn’t there? That’s the trouble with you investigative types — peel back the layers enough and you find yourself capable of feeling sympathy for anyone.

He flaunts his power, and yet it’s innocent. Is it so wrong, then, to want to bring my country back to its glory?

No, you remember answering shakily, but not as well as you remember the pinpricks of heat his fingers left on your skin when that gloved hand brushed over you arm.

Breathe deep, hover fingers over your keyboard and try not to feel like you owe him the weight of the world. He approved of this, even suggested a word count and a topic of conversation — any chance to put his name out into the consciousness of the public, it seemed, to raise interest for the gallery by raising interest for the cause. Make it indulgent. My people, they enjoy art. They enjoy knowing that their leaders have preserved the past for them.

So do it.

… Baron Zemo’s New York penthouse is its own garden amongst a sea of steel and stone, a veritable museum of priceless artworks rescued from what remained of Sokovian museums and ministry buildings. It is, in its own way, an ode to the spirit of Sokovia, which lives on in the hearts and minds of its people around the world. He displays artworks of the many displaced Sokovians, gesturing broadly to a 3D model of an art gallery he intends to have built near the memorial at Novi Grad — with the consent of the Slovakian government — and speaking fondly of his intention to showcase the lost art of Sokovia as a reminder that loss of land cannot be the loss of an identity…

The artworks, they will be painful at first. But the gallery will showcase more and more, and eventually we will have hope.

He waves a gloved hand over the pieces he has preserved. Sokovian history. Scenic expanses, fields and flowers, a city skyline dotted with domed cathedrals. Each painting marred some way too, you can see when you look close. Patched canvas, the dusting of ash and rubble in the corner of an ornate frame, a trick of the light revealing repainting to cover up damage.

A stone hoof sits on a bookshelf, The attached horse and rider blown to rubble in the attack. I’m told it was of Emperor Ferdinand, but my archivists have not been able to confirm, he tells you as he stands behind you, his hand resting soft on the small of your back.

Come. There is more to be seen.

More to be experienced.

His living room is a garden.

It smells like fresh jasmine the moment you walk in, ivy climbing the walls and you swear you can hear birdsong from more than the pigeons cooing outside. Flower arrangement is an often looked down upon art, but the gardens in Sokovia were impeccable. My father won several awards for his pieces before his…

He trails off and you watch him, seeing the pain paint his face as openly as if he meant for you to watch the facade crack and then back to that placid, pleasant calm, a serpentine smile on his face as he extends to you a hand and guides you to the open air of his balcony and bids you Sitbids you Enjoy bids you I have looked forward to his meeting.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Baron Zemo, you begin politely, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and trying to avoid the way his eyes follow your fingers, feeling seen, We’re grateful for the honor of your patronage for this piece, we know you could have —

Nonsense, he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, gesturing to his butler and then leaning back comfortably in his seat as champagne and various cheeses are brought forth, You are my guest, and I am grateful you agreed to come meet me here, to assist with my… project. Now. Please, enjoy, I do not want to treat this as strictly business.

Is that why he had you come alone?

Don’t.

Don’t dwell on it.

It happens all the time, right? It has to.

A somewhat reclusive man, not keen to be in the limelight, in need of public attention to achieve his goals — you are a means to an end and he is your means to an end, surely you can understand.

Is that why he wipes the honey from your lips and kisses it off his fingers?

This is going to be a difficult conversation and you know it. You can only gush over houseplants and rose décor for so long before it becomes… trite, before you’re a part of the problem, painting a shining veneer over a half-decade old injustice

But he is warm, warm and friendly and you cannot help but laugh to his response when you draw attention to the architecture to draw attention from your blush — Very modern, yes. We are in New York, after all, and the old ways are fine for country houses but not so fine, for sunny penthouse apartments —not noticing the way he looks like he’s just smelled blood at the sound of it, the narrowing of his eyes and the hiding of his inscrutable expression behind a sip of champagne.

Well then. Shall we get started?

Of course.

Why don’t we start with your plans for opening night?Your notepad is out, the recorder sitting in front of you to pick up the sound of your voice and his, ready to commit everything to memory.

Of course. We cannot deny the… elephant in the room, I think you Americans call it. There are many who took pictures of the aftermath of the attack, and not enough who have seen it immortalized…

… The tragedy of Novi Grad and the consequential absorption of Sokovia into its surrounding countries weighs heavy in the Baron’s living room, draped in ivy and jasmine and hanging vines but also in photographs of what was left after a private military corporation chose to turn human lives into a war game.

No one knows who Ultron is, only that he is dangerous, that his technology rivals that of the SHIELD Syndicate’s Tony Stark, that he is willing to ally himself to the highest bidder, and that he is fully capable of unleashing endless destruction upon the world…

You will never forget the photographs he shows you, all that death and destruction in the golden light of his balcony, all that warmth and all you can see is cold bodies bathed in concrete dust.

They call to you, when you close your eyes — answer for our crimes — and you remember the way his voice changes too, so soft and solemn, the brush of fingers against yours when you touch the bombed out shell of a country mansion My home, in Sokovia, to the gray-and-blood horror which forms the centerpiece of his display, and you remember your research too, that the Baron is a widow, that his title is inherited from the most tragic of circumstances, that his son was an innocent lost in the attack and you are furious too, at the senselessness of it all.

It is a tragedy yet unanswered for, more than half a decade since the dust settled.

That quote sits front and center on your mock-up, wondering if you could make whatever editor who would inevitably rip this piece to shreds — just before publishing its corpse alongside some glamour picture of the Baron his coat — finally see the error of ignoring the tragedy. You won’t, but it’s worth a shot, as you lean back in your chair and stare at the screen again.

Sometimes you think about it.

Watching Novi Grad happen from the comfort and safety of your living room, wrapped in blankets as open war broke out in the capital city of what had once been a crown jewel in an ancient dynasty. A playground, a show of force.

Sometimes you hear the screams.

The blinking carat waits for you to add more to this story, to decide where you want to go.

… The Baron plays a game with his interview, insists on knowing his guests just as we insist on getting to know the enigmatic leader who has risen up a beacon for the displaced people of his homeland. We will not be recreating our answers in this article, as they were of course of a personal nature, but we do thank the Baron for taking the time to get to know us just as he bared his soul, his sorrows, and his hopes to a gaggle of strangers seeking to make him known to the world…

Tell me of you, sweetling.

Me? This interview is about you.

And so I must tell all my secrets for free? No, I insist. A secret for a secret.

He watches you with a hunger, coal-black eyes an invitation. Slide your gaze away or fall and who knows what depths he will drag you into and what you will find there?

No.

Don’t look, don’t look as you sip the tea Oeznik brought when you politely declined the champagne — Another time, probably — and let it brace you with its bitterness, let it clear your head.

Breathe.

You’re in too deep now, trapped in this cave of wonders… and wouldn’t it be worth it? Know him as he knows you, follow the trajectory of the smiling man before you.

What would you like to know?

Tell me how you taste his eyes whisper.

Tell me what it would take says the curve of his fingers over your hand.

Let me put you on display hums the razor-blade of his smile.

Tell me what drives a woman to take on such a … dangerous line of work, is the final inquiry, innocent and curious and gentle and you sip your tea and smile.

Is it dangerous?

You must know how many secrets you uncover — and the lengths the keepers will go to in order to hide them.

If people get hurt, shouldn’t I bring that to light?

How noble of you, he tells you with another hum, with his fingers squeezing yours, with his eyes fixed on the gaze you refuse to send his way, It must be quite thrilling.

Let me thrill you too, sweetling.

Pull away.

Do it.

Pull your hand away, make an act of it, pick up a candied strawberry and press it past your lips, let the sweetness soak your tongue and wash away the bitter thoughts, let yourself be bright and chipper and pretend you are not afraid.

Because you’re not.

Of course you’re not.

You are in control here, you must be in control here.

This is nothing. This is a casual interview with a handsome man in his handsome penthouse, an interview about architecture and art galleries and you were a correspondent once and you are meant to be friendly here, not afraid, so what are you afraid of?

What is it about his coal-dark eyes and too-sharp smile that turns your blood, that sends you back into your hutch, little rabbit, what is it about the way he prowls at the corner of your thoughts that makes you shudder so?

What are you running from?

Who are you running from?

Your turn, sweetling.

Mmh?

Our deal, or have you forgotten already?

Yes. You have.

It’s his eyes, you keep insisting to yourself. They drag you in, so dark it feels like you’re drowning in the void of them, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s a chase.

It’s what you’re good at.

Right — I’m sorry, I’m…

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The fog in your thoughts doesn’t fade, confusion crossing over your features and ill delight crossing over his. All you had was tea, tea and some of the candied fruit his butler brought for your enjoyment, how can you feel so…

Hazy?

So…

Upturned?

Something clatters behind you and you realize it’s the chair you were sitting on as you stand, unsteady and abrupt, lost in the moors of your own frantic thoughts and there is his hand on your elbow, so careful and soft and there are his lips before yours, so…

Tempting.

Somewhere, a woman croons to you of falling rain and rushing blood and the room does spin round as you stand still in the open air of a desire that is yours and not your own all at once. Shhh, shhh, let me help you whispered in your ear, a hand to your cheek and you…

You blink.

Reality flows into view like a sudden bath of ice water. Jerk away from his iron grip, raise your hands and try to resist, shake your head and N-no, I think. I think I need to go, I’ll just call a cab —

I cannot let you do that, sweetling. Not when you are finally within my reach.

His hold is steady. Unbreakable, even, as he pulls you close and you might even be dancing with the way his arm wraps around your waist the moment you fall into his chest, Don’t look so afraid, sweetling. No one will hurt you, here.

I will protect you like a jewel.

Your mind is still yours — the dose was just enough — but your limbs? Your limbs are tied to his strings, lost as he guides you right back inside, lost as he gestures for Oeznik to close off the balcony.

Your place is somewhere else now.

You belong underneath me.

He guides you inside, jasmine intoxicating your senses and wisps of smoke seeming to float past your eyes. Reality blends into the fantasy, the Baron and his prize, the gentle touch against your soft cheek, the cradling against his form and he is…

Determined.

A door opens. A portal into another kind of decadence, with soft sheets and softer touches, the sliding of a mouth over yours as your escape clicks shut behind you and you are pressed between wall and man and you are consumed.

Curl your fingers into the lapel of his coat, lose yourself to the pressure of his lips, the sharp nip of teeth against soft flesh. He tastes of champagne and honeycomb and you are saccharine on the tongue, a mess of sighs and admonitions left unsaid.

My precious thing, whispered into your unfocused sighs, I will take such fine care of you.

And you want to protest, want to insist you are free you are uninterested you do not want this man and his hands under the cotton of your blouse but the words tangle on your tongue and instead all you can do is whimper.

Whimper, and hear him chuckle against your skin, a line of kisses drawn from your parted lips along your jaw until he’s found the thrum of your pulsebeat to draw a gasp the moment his teeth scrape against the delicate skin. He must mark you his, after all, and this he will gladly renew, over and over.

Over and over as he draws you to bed, lays you amongst soft cushions and softer sheets, indulges in the soft curves of you in the golden glow of the room. Your clothes — so conservative, so professional, so unnecessary — he makes short work of even with what mild resistance you manage, Shh, shh, do not fight me.

The heat is yours and not yours all at once, warming your skin and leaving you flushed, leaving a trail of burning want along your skin where his fingers trace over you and centering in your core You need this, sweetling, look at you…

Do you?

Is it you who needs this or he, he who has begun to kiss along your skin, he who presses himself between your legs so impatiently? The accusation lives in your thoughts and passes past your lips as a strangled Nnh-no, ignored without ceremony or appeal.

Protests are useless when your tongue can form no words and your limbs can do nothing but writhe, seeking structure in the grip of his sheets as he unravels you with a press of his lips to that soft center of yours, slick with a need you cannot own and yet all yours.

He maps you with a hungry gaze, fingers already tracing the plushness of your folds, gathering slick like he might have been collecting nectar and you watch him pull back, watch him bring his hand to his mouth, watch him wrap lips around his fingertip and drag the taste of you onto his tongue, One day I shall make you taste how sweet you are…

One day, after he has savored you so deeply.

You are so full of words they burst out of you on a normal day and yet nothing you say comes to light, just the bare whimpers and anxious mewls of your needy self as he returns to inspecting, to enjoying, to savoring the reactiveness of your body.

He touches. He touches as if he has owned your body a thousand times, he touches as if you are delicate, as if you are breakable, as if his fingers might lead you to shattering around him here and now and you…

Are so close, already.

So close, trying to find the strength in your muscles to pull away, to speak something beyond desperation with every curl of fingers against your cunt, with every pleased hum he utters in response to the flex of your sex. Shh… no more fighting, sweetling, I know you can be good.

He knows you can be good, he says, with all the innocence of a man trying to convince his cat to stop clawing the couch, not a man presently holding your legs open with one hand at your thigh and the other curling against your walls while you arch your back. It builds, the pressure, it builds and builds and builds and — Let go, sweetling. Let me see your ecstasy.

Is that what this is?

You keen. You keen softly, desperately, brokenly, as skilled fingers find the spot which makes you, which leaves you breathless and flushed and sobbing, a trickle of tears making their path down your cheeks as you bite your own lip to muffle the sounds you did not know you could make. Wordless and pleading and he notices with a cold smile the way you seem to succumb, hips no longer desperate to escape the curling, stretching assault of two — no, three — fingers preparing you for him.

Hips pressing back towards him now, a betrayal of your conscious-yet-barely-focused mind, that lustful sweetness in you taking over and he can only watch in awe. Awe not at your surrender but at your perfection, muttering in a language you do not understand and yet you understand perfectly what he means — he will have you, all of you.

Ah, I shall so enjoy playing with you more, sweetling.

But not now.

Now his impatience outpaces your need and both outpace his cruelty, his desire to see you beg and so instead he pulls back his hand — and hears the desperate N-no, please don’t — to bring a cruel gleam to his dark eyes and even barely conscious as you are you know he is beautiful.

Beautiful and cruel, as he frees himself and curls fingers around his cock, rubs your own slick onto that soft skin, hisses at the very feel of you like it must be a preview to how you will make him throb, and presses himself over you. Presses himself over you, absorbs the cry of pain or anguish or relief which pours from your plush lips with the punishment of a kiss just as he sinks, hips pressing against yours, stretching you with his full length and Now we are one, my sweet.

Now we are one.

He will take fine care of you but you, you take finer care of him, so plush and tight around his senses, so desperate as you cling, so lost and wanton and he kisses away the tears which continue to sting your cheeks and hisses half-sensible promises into your ear — You will always be mine — as he ruts his hips and practically shoves you forward with every thrust, dragging you back with a snarl and the pressure builds.

Builds and you moan, builds and you sob into his hungry mouth, builds and you hold to him as if he were the last thing which made sensein the world builds and you are consumed and he is consuming, and the release is both of yours, spilling deep inside of you and that too is the final shackle upon your soul.

You sit. In the darkness of your office and you remember, worrying the cuticle of your thumb and staring at the words you have typed while your memory drifts back to that hazy reminder.

… A discussion with the Baron about Sokovia reveals a country rich with history. Once a Duchy of the Hapsburgs during the era of the Holy Roman Empire, the deeply Catholic country clings to the Austrian and Italian tradition of ceremony and indulgence. Baron Zemo plays an example of the hymns sung in the many cathedrals which once filled the country, a mixture of Sokovian and Latin to raise the soul to divine heights.

The Baron speaks of the country’s culture with a warm fondness, of how even during Soviet occupation, the people managed to enjoy games like ice hockey, and football (the European, variant, the Baron would like to emphasize), and even spent time indulging in horse racing. Surrounded by Slovakia and the Czech Republic, it keeps a similar tradition, with a twist…

No, that cannot encompass all that you discussed, and yet that is what the recording shows, words traded back and forth which you do not remember, a conversation of laughter and warmth and none of it slots into what your mind tells you occurred.

You erase. You rewrite. It is the same passage, over and over, fingers acting unbidden of your frantic will and eventually you give in, demand to be done with these words and this screen, eventually you desire peace.

… Baron Helmut Zemo is many things. A historian, an ambassador, a politician, an activist. He is a widower, a man trapped in the past, a man with lofty dreams for the future. He wears his sorrow as well as he wears his happiness, and for those who still call themselves Sokovian, he is their shepherd into a new age.

And as the door to your office opens, your keeper.

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #dark!baron zemo x reader #dark!helmut zemo x reader #billy russo x reader #dark!billy russo x reader #helmut zemo smut #dark!fic #mob!AU #helmut zemo #billy russo

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

Text

Attack Of The Winter Wolf: Revealed

Summary- 7.7k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. Steve and you pack up in the Stark Jet and head across the ocean, this time to Norway. Steve seems to think that there will be the answers needed to help your friends for good. Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Warnings- None

A/N- Those that have stuck with me through this, thank you. I hope this isn’t turning into a “what the hell are you trying to do Amber” kind of deal. Haha. I don’t have any real answers, its just whats coming out. Anyways, thank you for reading, as always its so appreciated to hear what your thoughts are on it. Happy Howling 🐺💙

Chapter Three / Masterlist

It was a rush the following morning, Steve and Tony were busy checking over the jet being loaned for the mission. Meanwhile Pepper showed you around the giant Stark Towers. The last time you had been here you were unconscious, not remembering any of it. Pepper’s heels clicking against linoleum, while you rushed after the fast paced Alpha who was doing two tasks at once. But once she led you on the elevator, hitting some buttons, she tucked her tablet under her arm, turning her attention to you with a relaxed smile.

“Dr. Banner has been wanting to officially meet you.” She stated as an explanation for the elevator ride. Twiddling your fingers, you shuffled foot to foot a bit nervous, only knowing the doctor had been where Steve rushed you to first when Pierce injected you.

When the elevator door dinged and the two of you stepped out to what looked like a medical wing. A dark haired man stepped out while flipping through a chart muttering to himself when Pepper cleared her throat. “Bruce, you have a visitor.” His head lifted, blinking at them from over his glasses frames, confused as to who would want to intrude on him. But then recognition crossed his features and he snapped his clipboard shut, striding over.

“Y/N! Pepper told me Steve was coming back this way for help, and I was hoping he would bring you.” His hand popped out to shake yours. You welcomed it with a tilt of your head, drawing in his scent. A part of you recognized him, the hint of warmth and freshness.

“ Dr.Banner a pleasure… Steve told me what you had done for me, thank you for everything.”

Bruce sputtered a bit, giving a shrug. “Ahh, I wasn’t able to do much, just send you along to someone better able to handle what happened to you. Umm, do you have a few minutes? I just really would like to ask you a few questions about your experience. If you are okay with that of course.” He added almost shyly and you smiled reassuringly.

“I have no problem with that Dr.Banner.”

“Bruce please.” Bruce looked expectantly at Pepper who checked her watch and nodded.

“We got time, Tony will have Friday call for us when the jet is ready.” Bruce immediately turned on his heels and led the two of you towards his office.

Steve went through the jet, checking all the gear stashed on board as well as settling in the controls chair to make sure he was familiar with everything before leaving Stark towers. Tony plopped in the one next to him, making the Alpha in Steve rumble at the intrusion but Steve was able to placate him.

“So off to Norway huh?” Tony leaned forward to enter the coordinates in the dash for the autopilot. “What's in Norway that can help you with everything?”

Steve growled as he continued going over the controls. “You saw the file Fury sent along Stark. You know exactly who is there.”

“Okay you got me.” Tony finished what he was doing and turned the chair to face Steve. “I also know he's basically a recluse now and the chance of you getting him to talk is almost nada, zip, zilch. What makes you think he's gonna spill what you need.”

“I have my ways…” Steve said coldly, his wolf growling softly at the other Alpha in his space.

Tony gave a mock shiver. “Alright alright… just be careful okay? I know we're not on the best terms Steve but I do have a lot of respect for what you are trying to do.”

Steve arched a brow and shook his head. “We’re not enemies Tony, I don’t happen to agree or appreciate that stunt you pulled with Ross. But I think now my stance on that shit is known. We can disagree and still be fine.” Tony next to him brushed it off while continuing with the switches, making his own adjustments to the system.

“I know Steve, it was still a shitty move on my part, bringing Ross into your home, where your mate was after everything that happened. But she certainly put me in my place.” He laughed, recalling how you kicked all of them out.

Steve glanced at Tony from the corner of his eye and rumbled out a “Thank you Stark, Y/N certainly isn't taking anyone's shit, not anymore.” Tony snorted in agreement to that statement.

“I don’t think they ever do, Pepper is the same damn way.”

Steve laughed in return, knowing full well that everything Tony said was accurate about Pepper Potts, Tony had chosen well for himself in Steve’s opinion. For all the tension between Steve and Tony, he respected the Alpha next to him, and knew that finding his packmates was just as important to Tony as it was to Steve. Not to mention finding those responsible for Happy’s murder. Steve turned his chair to face the other Alpha. “I’m sorry about what happened to Happy Tony. I know it’s hard to have lost someone who was family to you.”

Tony blinked at him, warring with his own feelings about everything that happened. Losing Happy so brutally had taken a toll on Tony, finding the body having been dumped just outside of his territory, he still hadn’t been able to fully come to terms with it. “Thank you. Finding the bastards who did that has become my main priority.” Clapping his hands together to end the topic, he moved to a stand. “You Rogers are ready to go, ready to Captain my jet?”

Steve waited till Tony moved out of his space before moving to follow him off the jet, keeping quiet about the further mention of Tony seeking out Happy’s killer. After seeing what had happened with Bucky and the rest, he already had his own sinking suspicions as to who killed Happy and he knew Tony did as well.

“More than ready to go.” Steve stated, coming down the steps off the jet. Tony spoke up right then.

“Friday, let Pepper and Y/N know that Captain Rogers is ready.” That caused Steve to roll his eyes and fold his arms over his chest.

“Seriously Tony?”

A smirk flashed, Tony winked at him. “Come on, I think it's a fitting title for you.”

Bruce was furiously writing notes while you described to him what you remembered being under due to the drug Pierce had injected you with when the AI Friday announced that the jet was ready, as well as Captain Rogers. You and Pepper quirk a confused look at one another, and she rolled her eyes with a sigh. “That's gotta be Tony’s doing I'm sure.”

You nod in agreement, turning back to Bruce. “Looks like it's time for me to go Dr.Banner…”

“Bruce.” He was quick to interrupt and moved to a stand to shake your hand. “Thank you so much for this.” He tapped his pad of paper where he had all the notes jotted. “I will put them in my file to share with Shuri. All this is incredibly helpful knowing more about the serum used on you.”

Giving a vigorous shake back, you smiled genuinely at Bruce, you and your Little Wolf feeling quite relaxed with the man. “If I think of anything, I will be sure to send an email.” The Little Wolf flicked her tail in agreement, half listening while she was napping.

“Oh! Yes please do with anything you might remember, no bit of information is too small.”

Pepper walked out with you and joined you in the elevator. Reaching the top of Stark Towers, you both were greeted by Steve and Tony, who waited just inside the jet. As soon as you saw Steve, warmth washed over you, feeling that bond between you two hum happily, your wolves sought each other, in the moment they both were teasing each other, making your mood lift from having to leave once more. The genuine pleasure at seeing Steve melded that away, just as his own did, the wolves happiness being together melded with your own. Steve enclosed you in his arms, nuzzling the crown of your head a moment before questioning if you were all set.

“Tony Stark is funding another trip for us? I’m absolutely ready.” You joked as Steve let you go so you could turn to face Tony who scoffed at you.

“Don’t let Cap here defile my jet please!” Tony was sure to give you his signature hug, that made Steve rumble a bit although you instead laughed and gave a bop of your shoulder.

“No promises Stark. Pepper, thank you for showing me around your home.” Embracing her in a thank you.

“Stay safe and bring my jet back quickly, Cap.” Tony pipped up while walking off the jet with Pepper, cackling to himself at the finger Steve threw up while the doors shut you two in.

The Alpha muttered to himself while dropping into the pilot's seat and you were quick to join him on the opposite side. You buckled in while he flicked on buttons. “Captain Rogers?” you questioned watching him get the jet ready.

Steve rolled his eyes as he made sure everything was set and handed you a headset while fitting his own on, the jet rumbling to life around you. “Tony thinks he is very slick, giving nicknames. Apparently Cap is his new one for me.”

You smirked at him, winking as you settled the headset on and spoke into the microphone. “I think Captain Rogers has its benefits, Steve.”

His hand went around the handle and started to push it forward, edging the jet forward to take off, the spanse of New York City below you. Much like the night before, you marveled at the beauty only a city could offer. “You would Little One.”

A voice piped up over the channel, Tony coming over the comms. “I think your mate has a point Cap.”

Steve growled into the comm for a second while you started laughing in the seat next to him. “Tony! Get off this channel.”

“It's my jet, Rogers! I will listen in if I want.” He was about to continue when Steve took off his headset, setting the jet on autopilot with the coordinates.

You snickered into the system. “Sorry Tony, Steve is cutting you off. Bye Stark.” You effectively cut Tony off and slipped the head set off, setting it aside while you leaned forward to get a better look out the window, unbuckling in the process. “You know since I have been with you Steve, I have seen things I never thought I would. Look at this.” You directed your gaze at the expanse of the sky before you, baby blue as far as the eye could see, the skyline rushing closer till the two of you crossed over the cities edged, now nothing but the Atlantic underneath you. “Beautiful.”

Steve settled back to admire what you were looking at, letting some of his worries sink to the back of his mind. “It is… sometimes I forget you haven't seen all this before.” He held out his arm for you to join him, which you pushed from your seat and settled in his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Do you remember much from the last time I showed you?”

You perch on his knee and look over the dash, worrying your lip. “Mmh barely.” Your eyes roved over the panels while Steve dragged the tip of his nose along the curve of your neck, inhaling against it and letting it settle him further. Both the man and Alpha wanted to enjoy the long flight with you.

“I guess we will be getting a crash course, Little One.” He rumbled happily while you seated yourself into a more comfortable position in his lap.

You looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes laughing at his remark and bringing the exact response he wanted. “Really Captain?”

Tightening his arm around your waist, he nipped at your lips with teasing affection. “Tony isn't the only funny one around here.”

Steve spent a few hours describing the functions and some of how to fly. Together you both got to watch the sun going down and eventually you started napping in the copilot's seat, even though Steve tried to get you to go lay down in the back.

These quiet moments, Steve wandered back to his memories, the Alpha in his mind lifting his head from the Little Wolf’s back where he had laid to rest, flicking his ears back and forth a bit at Steve’s thoughts.

The first thing that came to memory was the stinging scent of smoke.

“Rogers, don't you dare go into that building!” Fury’s voice commanded Steve who stalled in the doorway, peering into Hydras base, nose flaring trying to catch scent of their missing comrades. “You are not commander in this mission.”

“But Buck and the rest might be in there… I'm going” Steve defied Fury, darting into the darkness and out of sight, Fury's voice echoing behind him.

“ROGERS! GET YOUR ASS BACK OUT HERE!”

Steve continued forward, letting his Wolf out enough to sharpen his senses. His eyes picking up the bit of light in the darkened hallways leading deeper into the compound, his eyes glimmer dangerously in the dark looking for any sign of movement. He could sense others nearby, friend or foe though he was unsure. Footsteps silent, Steve once in a while looking behind him tense to make sure no one knew he was there. Glances in rooms showed them abandoned, cleared in a haste to get out before Shield got there Steve was sure. Ahead he heard scuffles and growls, chains clanking and the sound of voices in hushed tones. The Wolf lowered to his belly, quivering in anticipation should Steve allow him to take over. He eased the door open with a creak when relief washed over him.

There men, most of them in large cages. Familiar scents washed over him and they all perked sensing Steve.

“Rogers is that you?” Someone muttered while Steve approached, searching for a key anywhere in a nearby desk.

“Yes, the rest of the troop is just outside. We haven't found anyone though. Where is everyone?”

“Bolted man, once they heard Fury was coming they grabbed their shit and left. They didn’t have the bodies to defend this place.” Dugan responded as he pushed to the front watching while Steve searched the desk. Steve opened the last drawer, cursing as he pushed aside papers and flung them to the side. Then he was rewarded with a ring full of keys. Rushing over, the two men tried sorting through them, Steve stuffing them one by one in the locks, quick to go to the next till they found another.

“They left us and their experiments.” Dugan continued filling Steve in while he tried to find the right keys. “Some messed up stuff, they are in the next room I think.”

The Alpha rumbled to catch Steve’s attention. <Bucky isn’t with them.> The mans head whipped up while the lock clicked finally, able to pry it open and release his packmates.

“Where is Buck?”

“Bucky… he was brought in there and never came back out.” another said, pointing at the door across the room.

The Alpha rumbled suddenly in an alert and Steve tensed and whipped around when an eerily sharp howl sounded through the building. Dugan pushed the door open, tensing as well. “That's one of them, their experiments.”

Steve wrangled the keys out of the lock and started to go down the line, unlocking each cage, shifters passing him to get outside.

“Fury, you have outcoming hostages, they are friendly, don't fire.” Steve spoke into the comm.

“I hear you Rogers.” Came Fury’s voice in a wave of static. “Any unfriendlies?”

“No, Dugan notified me they all bailed once they heard we were coming” Steve responded before turning to his friend. “Dugan, get the rest out of here, I’m going to keep looking.”

His friend bared his teeth at him, bristling at the notion. “You don’t know what's back there Rogers.”

“If I have to, I will retreat, get these men out of here. I’m not leaving anyone behind.” Steve growled back deeper, the Alpha in him asserting himself and the man backed off with a disgruntled nod.

Waiting to make sure they were going to leave, Steve approached the door cautiously, using his senses to pick up what might be on the other side, who might be on the other side. He was praying for a miracle, because nothing but death filled his senses as he eyed the door, drawing in any scent left behind. It was all jumbled, multitudes of men and women have passed through the threshhold, making it almost impossible to pinpoint any specific person. “Well… let's see what's on the other side.” Steve shouldered through the door and a lab stretched before him, ominous equipment stretched on either side. A groan came from somewhere ahead and Steve paused till he heard it again. It was so distinct to him that the hair on the back of his neck prickled, the Alphas own fur raising as well along the ridge of his back, it was another Alpha, but this one they knew.

“Oh thank fucking god.” Steve uttered as he rushed forward to find Bucky strapped down and Steve started pulling at the straps holding him down. Wires were strapped all over Bucky's neck and chest and stretched to attach to some equipment, Steve started yanking them off as well when finally Bucky started to come around.

“S-Steve?” His eyes sharpened and he clutched at Steve's uniform, worried that he wasn't real.

“It’s me Buck, we’re getting out of here.” Steve tried assuring him, keeping his voice light and calm even though he was far from that. He had never seen Bucky so scared. Suddenly the howling started again from the back of the room and both men glanced that way.

“Whoever it is just keeps doing that.” Bucky muttered when a voice crackled in the comms.

“In-ing” then static sounded in Steve's ear, making him wince as he pressed his hand over his ear.

“Repeat? What was that Fury?”

“In-oming! G-t Ou-” The building started to shake and lights started zapping and popping around them.

“We ca-t hold hi-, Get O-” Fury yelled into the comm but Steve had to rip it out, electricity zapping through it and breaking it up too much. Bucky gripped Steve tighter, his pupils blown in his panic.

“What the fuck is it now?!”

“I don't know… but we gotta get out of here.” Bucky started pulling Steve towards the exit, but whatever was in the back rattled its cage with a savage snarl, and Steve couldn’t leave who ever or what ever it was behind. He stuttered to a stop, Bucky pausing at the door with a shake of his head.

“Man, we got to go… there isn't enough time.”

Steve’s hands dropped to his pants and felt madly for the keys he had stuffed in his pocket earlier. “We can’t leave him in there Buck.” He waved his hand. “Go, I got this.”

Bucky cursed but held tight, refusing to leave Steve behind.

Steve raced towards the cage to free whatever was inside, shoving the key he used before into the lock and it clicked to open. Glowering green eyes blinked at him from the shadowed part of the cage, but he couldn't make anything else out in the seconds he got the door open. Bucky was screaming his name and when he managed to get the door to swing wide, a bundle of black sprang on his chest, bared white fangs yawning open going for Steve’s throat….

“Steve- Steve?” Your voice cut through and he shook his head a bit to clear it before looking at you.

“Sorry, I thought you were sleeping Little One.”

“I was, but the computer started beeping on the dash.” You pointed to a blinking light and Steve leaned forward to check the system, smiling.

“We're here and just in time to. Look” He pointed out the window at the faint purple in the skyline, the sun easing up beyond the cloud cover to turn a brilliant red and orange of dawn. When Steve took over, he started to drop the jet down. Below the clouds the land turned a deep almost emerald wild green shimmering with mist stretching like tendrils to a spiderweb over the land, still in the early morning phase of waking up.

You weren't lying earlier when you said you saw things you had never expected. From the rainforest and safari of Wakanda to the lush greenery of Norway, you soaked it all in with awe. So long spent locked away in a room, gazing with longing at the upper windows that offered nothing more than peeks of the sky. Now you soared over the world with your Mate. Even the Little Wolf was in awe, slithering away from where the Alpha was half sleeping and prancing excitedly with joy at the adventure. The Alpha stretched out, arching his back and padded heavily after her, nuzzling her affectionately while her tail waved back and forth, unable to stay still in her excitement.

“The Little Wolf is excited.” You told Steve and he winked at you.

“I can feel it. What do you say we take her down?”

Steve easily maneuvered the Stark Jet down to land in a wide open field bordering the ocean. You followed him towards the doors swinging open and already wolves appeared from the long grass with tilted heads checking out the newcomers. You sidled up to Steve’s side a moment, watching the wolves dart back out of sight in the tall grass and heard their howls break the silence, announcing their arrival. It was a welcome sound, you couldn't detect any hostility in the notes. But their songs were so different. Sounded much older, almost like a language all its own.

Steve cupped his hand and gave a sharp “We’re here” yip, that was answered resoundingly from all around you, the pack having circled you two and remained just out of sight. His arm lowered around your shoulders and you held your breath, unsure of what to expect. A bellow came, joyful and loud as a tall blonde man, even taller than Steve stepped out, his arms opened wide in greeting.

“Why what a surprise! Are you here for the Asgard hospitality? I didn't think anything would ever get you to leave your corner in the world.” The over sized man strode towards them rather quickly, and the closer he came the more your eyes widened. You didn't think you had seen anyone who was as bigger then Steve in stature. He clasped Steve's shoulder and directed his joyful gaze down at you. “And who is this lovely maiden you bring with you?”

“If I could be there, trust me I would. This is my mate, Y/N. Y/N, this is Thor, the Alpha here.” Steve protectively wrapped an arm around you, even though you wore his mark for Thor to see, Alphas always had a bit of tension between them no matter how much their human counterparts tried to quell it.

Thor though seemed unaware of such a vibe as he beamed down at you warmly. “Well Little Pup, welcome to Asgard.” He took your hand in a vigorous pump and you couldn't help but warm right up to him and his exuberant nature. “We run free and feast like we are in the halls of the Old Kings here.” He swept the both of you down the path and all around his wolves started to howl and dance in a joyful manner, playing among each other much like they were participating in the Full Moon Run. “Now Rogers does tell me what has been going on across the water? It's been a while since I've visited there.”

“Afraid we have been having some issues.” Steve started, filling Thor in on the recent attacks, taking apart the packs and capturing the Alpha’s. The viciousness in the attacks and the destruction left behind. Thor listened patiently until Steve mentioned Hydra. That's when he paused, you and Steve having taken a few steps ahead but noticed he wasn't with you. You turned to see him glowering.

“That's why you are here, Rogers, isn't it? Because of Hydra. He wont talk to you about it you know.”

Steve sighed and you had a sinking feeling about the situation, not fully understanding what was going on.

“I have to try Thor, your brother was the only one who was able to break from the collars power and the mind shit Hydra does to their victims.”

“He barely interacts with any of us Steve, he mostly stays as his animal out there.” Thor retorted, the sky started to darken slightly and you frowned to yourself at the sudden change in atmosphere while glancing up.

Steve sighed, letting his arms hang loose at his sides to show Thor he was no threat to him. “I know Odinson, trust me. I wouldn’t be here if there was any other way. Packs, families are all being killed off, Alphas removed. How long till you think it will be till it comes over here?” Steve pointed out and Thor’s face twisted and he looked away.

“It won’t be like before, I won’t let it.”

“You don't know that… Shield risked sending the Howling Commando’s over here to help your people, now I’m asking for your help. Just let me try talking to him?”

Your heart twisted as you saw Thor try to control his emotions on his face and you reached out to touch his arm, Steve for once kept quiet, inhaling deeply to keep himself in check. “Hydra really hurt him, didn't they? If it's too much we will just leave. Right Steve?”

“If you tell me absolutely not Thor, she’s right. We will leave right now and not bother you again.”

Thor glanced back at you, his eyes searching yours and you could see everything he was doing was about protecting this person. You bit at your lip nervously, you knew you were invading this Alpha’s space but stepped in closer anyways. “Please let us try? We just want to save those we still have left. Our packmates are fighting a losing battle with Hydra, we don't want to lose them.”

A sigh escaped the man and he glanced over your head to Steve. “You're lucky you have her you know… she’s softened me. Slightly.” You stepped back towards Steve, who now laid his hand around your waist, chuckling softly.

“You really don’t know half of it, she has a gift.” You wriggled in his hold a bit but he just tightened his fingers against you. “Thank you Thor for letting us try.”

He shrugged at you both with a shake of his head. “I'm still saying that he wont talk to you, but I will show you where he stays when he is not hunting.”

Steve gave a nod of appreciation while you reached for his hand and gave a light squeeze. “Thank you Thor.” You gave your own sentiments.

The man looked at the two of you a moment, his eyes falling to your linked hands and motioned across the moors. “This way…” He cupped his hands, giving another howling song and the wolves joined them, spreading around Thor, these wolves were even larger than Mountain Packs wolves, giant beasts that were moving gracefully around there Alpha. You could feel the ground beneath your footfalls vibrating from there movements, the lush grass swishing to add to the melody of it all. Above them the thunder still rumbled with strong booms that cackled with electricity but had retreated from the fierceness it had flared up earlier.

Your Little Wolf kneaded her paws next to the Alpha, lifting her head to inhale the air around them, it spoke of a wildness she was not used to. Something feral that did not adhere to normal pack constraints. The Alpha rumbled next to her, now and then dropping his muzzle to his mate to reassure her, but the pull to shift for both of them was strong.

You could tell Steve felt it as well, the way he angled his body close to yours in a protective manner, his hand moving from a simple hold to pressing against your hip, wrapping around you. You tilted your head up towards Steve, your confusion clouding your features. He dropped his head to press a nip to your neck, whispering softly just for you. “I will explain later.”

Thor paused in front of a wood that looked ancient, the gnarled trees had stories to tell. Shadows played deeper beyond the edge, enticing you to wander in. Your Little Wolf huffed slightly, breaking the enchantment you had fallen into.

<This isn't just a forest Y/N, something powerful lives here.> Her ears flattened and you could feel her unease and the Alpha’s wariness sharpening, his ears pricked forward before twisting listening.

What is it? You questioned your Little Wolf and she whined unsure. You felt the Alpha slip away, in the same moment Steve tilted his face up, his nostrils flaring. You knew he was scenting for any kind of danger that might come from the old forest.

Next to you Thor boomed out loudly, making it echo. “Come out Loki!” You and the Little Wolf perked, hearing the woods shift and groan, shadows danced closer when a streamlined black shadow emerged to turn solid, the beast was streamlined. His size shifting to grow larger in the presence of you and Steve, a sharp pointed muzzle turned towards you and ears twitched with interest as he took you both in. You were a bit taken aback when you saw Loki, but he paused just after the forest ended and you could see the tip of his nose twitching, green eyes with almost emerald qualities glinting with the bit of light that somehow seemed to filter from the thunderous clouds still rumbling above you.

What do we have here? An omega to Rogers? A true Omega? Oh what a prize he really does have here. I wonder if he knows… A voice tickled your senses and the Little Wolf spun in your mind, searching for the intrusion. The Alpha returned to the Little Wolf, curling around her with a growl and a laugh echoed through you, not one that belonged to you.

“Steve…” You whined a bit and he furrowed his brow looking at you, confused as well as to what was going on, feeling you through your bond.

“Rogers is here to talk with you Loki, come out and quit playing games Brother.” Thor folded muscular arms across his chest and the black canine shimmered an emerald green while disappearing in a wisp of shadow and a sharp yip barking out from nowhere.

A resounding defiant No.

Thor shook his head at Steve. “Loki won't interact with Alphas short of me Steve, not since Shield pulled him from Hydra.”

The Little Wolf unweaved from the Alpha when she heard Thor.

Steve would never allow us to go in there alone.

<It's the only way, Loki won't talk to Steve. He's too much of a threat to him. Say something, that big Alpha doesn't seem scared that Loki will hurt us.>

You took a deep breath and while Thor and Steve discussed other options, you turned to the men, catching there attention. “Let me go in and talk to him.” Steve immediately barked out a no, but Thor tilted his head, considering what you were saying. “I'm not an Alpha, he won't be threatened by me, right Thor?” You pressed for an answer from the man and he nodded.

“Your Little Pup has a point, Rogers. Loki wouldn't hurt her. I will escort her inside so she’s protected the whole way.”

Steve felt his chest expand as he drew up to his full height. “I'm not letting Y/N go in by herself, I know you trust your brother, but I don't.” His eyes flared yellow, the Alpha close to the surface with concerns of your safety. You could see that he was winding up to call all this off when you reached up to grasp his face between your palms, tilting his head to look directly at you.

“Alpha trust me, I know I can do this.” You stressed to him, the furrow in his forehead deepening as you knew he was at war with himself. “If anything is wrong, I will call you. Let me do this.” His hands circled your wrists and you felt that war inside of him. The same one where it was ingrained in him to keep you safe at all costs. It was all right there, flooding through the bond you two shared, your confidence, his worry. Steve huffed slightly before lifting his gaze from yours.

“Thor, give me a moment with my mate please.” Steve requested and Thor moved away, closer towards the border of his brother’s forest, his broad back turned towards the two of you while he waited. “Little One, if something happens. Loki isn't a normal wolf…”

“I could tell that as soon as we came near here.” You let your fingers press through his beard on his cheeks and slide down to his neck, sure to rub his scent against you in the process as well as sharing calming touches. “But he has the answers we need, Alpha.”

Steve knew you were right, but the inner battle was fierce. The Alpha wanted to protect his mate, an animalistic need to not let you go into that forest, every fiber of his being was on edge because of it. His human side knew you could do this and get the answer to save their pack mates. You were confident, he needed to trust you like you asked.

<Don't you let her go in there with that Alpha. What is Loki going to do to stop us.>

Loki is not all Wolf as you well know, he won't tolerate the intrusion.

The Alpha bristled aggressively, licking his muzzle over and over nervously. <We won't be there to protect her should he turn on her.>

But Thor will be… You know as much as I do that he wouldn't let any get hurt in his care.

“Trust me Alpha.” Your fingers trailed along the mark you had left on him, your mark that made him belong to you. The most sacred of bonds a mated pair could share and made in the utmost trust that you two would take care of each other.

She is asking us to trust her. If we can’t trust in our mate, then what hope do we have? Steve was firm and the Alpha had to concede to him.

Steve moved his hands to your face, cupping the most important part of his life gently in his palms as he inhaled deeply and tipped his forehead against yours. “Little One, if anything happens, anything at all, call for me. I will come get you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted and he saw it go to your eyes, pride and strength that your Alpha was trusting you to go in his place. “Of course Alpha.” You lifted to catch his lips, nuzzling your nose against his. “I know you will come for me if I need you.” You embraced him fiercely, Steve let his nose bury in the crown of your head and then let you go against his instincts. The Wolf rumbled, anxious as he paced watching you reach Thor. His eyes reached the other Alphas. “Thor…”

“I understand what is at stake. No harm will come to her, I swear it.”

You looked so tiny next to the man, your head tilted up to look at him with a warm smile and Thor's tilted down to look back at you. Steve watched the same warm smile cross Thor's face, making your mate proud of you, how easily you had already won Thor over. You had come so far from the runaway he first met and your warmth spread so easily to those around you. Maybe Loki wouldn't be immune to you.

The moment you stepped into the forest with Thor, it darkened. Looking over your shoulder, the emerald green sea of the moor was almost a picture racing away to be enclosed by old tree trunks. You licked your lips nervously and folded your arms around your body, sure to keep up with Thor. He was confident in his strides, the darkening vibrant woods was just as much home for him as the windswept open land you two left behind.

The Little Wolf was curious in the new surroundings, pacing and keeping a keen eye on everything you were hurriedly passing by trying to keep up with Thor.

You weren't wrong that the forest had a life all its own. It seemed to breathe around you, moss stretched across large boulders that sprang tendrils of plant life curling upwards to try and reach sunlight. Heavy thick trees were bristling against your palm and almost seemed to heave in sighs at your gentle touch. Thor glanced back at you, golden tendrils clinging to his face now and his eyes crinkled in watching you loosen from your fear into awe.

“You feel it, right?” He chuckled and you withdrew your hand from the tree back to your body.

“What do you mean?”

“Its soul, the magic in it all.” He braced against a tree and inhaled deeply. “All of this is very alive as you and I, it's old and has been standing long before we claimed this as home.”

You tentatively touched a nearby tree again, feeling tingles in your palms, making you shudder a bit. “It is certainly… like home, but not quite.”

Thor nodded with a wink. “Still a baby over there, your packs are just starting to write the stories that will live on after you are gone. One day they will have a life of their own, just like this one.”

Your brows quirked at his words. He's a funny man isn't he.

Your Little Wolf curled her tail around herself as she sat down. <He is, but I like him. This place feels like we belong here.>

There does seem to be a certain calling to be here…

You two continued on and you risked another statement. “Loki is not like you, is he?”

Thor shook his head. “No, he is not. But you have no need to worry Little Wolf.” He paused while he glanced around, inhaling sharply. “It's just me and Y/n, Brother, come out of hiding.”

“I'm not hiding, I can't help that you are not a more observant Brother.” A cool voice came from above and your eyes shot up to a long legged man lounging in the branches, looking almost like he couldn't be bothered. Thor snorted impatiently and motioned towards you.

“Y/N has some questions for you.”

Vivid green eyes fell on you and a cool grin formed as he moved to sit up and slide down. He walked in such a predatory way, almost circling you. The Little Wolf's hackles raised at him and you hitched yourself straighter. You felt that tingle in your mind again.

Why is it your Alpha is sending you in here for Omega? My brother is right, you are just a little pup aren’t you, so new to the world...

You snarled out loud, glaring at him. “You are not welcome in my mind, and I’m no pup.” And a quick withdrawal left you and Little Wolf alone once more. You could feel your Alphas curling warmth in your mind, even if he couldn't be with you.

Respect crossed Loki's features and he bowed his head. “Forgive my intrusion. It's not often I'm sought out, except by Thor that is.” Thor barked out a deep bellowing laugh, clasping your shoulder.

“You can't use your tricks on this one, she is small but fierce. Her Alpha has great respect for her.”

Loki gave a slight sniff, his green eyes sliding over you as he remarked. “I’m afraid you are right.”

You shrugged out of Thor’s grasp now, wanting the answers you came for. “Loki, our packmates have been collared by Hydra. Steve seems to think that you know how to break from their control. Please, is there any way to break the hold they have on them.” Loki suddenly appeared next to you, his fingers catching a lock of your hair and pressing it between his fingers for a moment as if further inspecting you. You jumped and pulled away from him, making Thor growl a warning at him. But you narrowed your gaze at him, knowing well that he was testing you. You had seen it all before while living with Pierce. “Don't touch me Loki, only Steve is allowed to. How did you do that anyways, appear next to me?”

His fingers swirled slightly, green wisps dancing around his nimble long fingers. “Magic Dear. I'm part Coyote, a Trickster. Sure your Alpha told you?”

You shook your head. “No… He doesn't talk much about his life in Shield.” Your Little Wolf crooned in comfort, knowing sometimes you were worried about how he would be so vague about it.

“Well it was a dark time for the shifters.” Loki admitted and glanced at his brother. “I don't much like discussing that time either.” You clenched your jaw a moment, worried he was going to flat out refuse your requests but he dipped his head. “But for you Dear, you boldly come out here without your Alpha, that deserves to have your questions answered. Come…” He beckoned to you and led you away, Thor was not far behind. Soon a small dwelling came into view and the door yawned open, which Loki stepped in.

Inside was different from what you were expecting. Books lined shelves upon shelves, seeming to go on forever. Plush chairs were dotted near a fireplace and wooden carvings dotted the entire area. Wood shavings littered the floor, making you smile a bit because it reminded you of your Alpha, the fresh wood scent enveloping you. The place was cozy, almost like something from a story book. Of course, this whole experience was making you feel that way, like some sort of fairytale your mother would have told you before bed. Thor heavily fell into a nearby chair, quiet as his brother waved at a seat in offering to you.

Loki approached a shelf and whispered under his breath till a box fell into his hands. Easing it open, he pulled out a collar. Silver strands weaved together into an intricate design. “This one was mine, but it stopped working on me after a time. So it was just useless metal. Why Hydra had kept me caged when Steve found me.” He handed it to you and you were caught by surprise at how light it was. Studying it closer, you could see twists of coarse black fur wedged through it where it sat on Loki’s neck.

“Why did it stop working?” You asked curiously and Loki settled down in one of the seats.

“Simple, I willed for my freedom. Most of the wolves have such a strong desire to follow an Alpha. Even the Alphas themselves can be forced to follow a stronger one should they come across one. Hydra didn't know I wasn't a Wolf, not completely. I can't be controlled in the same way for long. But it's that simple in how to get your wolves back. Your Alpha has to challenge them for control. Assert that he is stronger than the one controlling them with the collars.”

You handed his collar back to him and Loki flicked his wrist to send it back to the box, the box flashing away in the same green blaze you had seen earlier. “That's all it takes?” You asked incredulously. Loki shrugged with a nod.

“Hydra though is led by someone who has a power that no Wolf should have. It's how they are able to control such a large and secret organization for such a long time. But such power can always be challenged.” He drifted off, looking away into the fire he had burning in the fireplace.

You let the silence sit for a few moments before speaking up.

“Why wouldn't you talk to Steve?”

Loki gave a slight roll of eyes. “I don't care for Alpha’s, they always feel the need to challenge and dominate. I've dealt with that enough in my life. I choose to live on the edges of my own Pack, still a member should Thor need my assistance and the rest leave me in peace.”

“Then why me? You seemed interested in me being an Omega.” The Little Wolf stopped her pacing for just a moment, head tilted in curiosity.

“Because true Omegas do not need to dominate or be controlled by anyone.” Loki turned towards you, his head tilting into your direction. “You might always submit to your Alpha, but that's a choice you and your wolf make together, consciously or not. If you were to ever truly want to defy him, you easily could. It's why you were able to make me leave when I was exploring your mind.” You rolled your eyes a bit at the trickster, clearly not believing him. A life time of being made to submit to Pierce against your will and the recent incidents with Steve... you felt he had you mistaken. “ You can roll your eyes at me all you want Little Pup, but I know what I’m talking about. Omega’s can be a threat to Alpha’s or for the right one, there everything. Really depends on the Alpha they are connected to. So I like you Little Omega, you are a challenge for me.” He winked and you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile you gave to him. After all was said and done, you liked the Trickster.

“Is there anything else you can tell me? How did you get the collar off?” You asked and Loki motioned towards Thor.

“That was me. After Fury contacted me that Loki was with the Howling Commando’s Unit, I went to bring him home. I can provide you two with a special knife made to deal with unnatural made materials.” Loki rubbed at his face and his front door sprang open, a rush of air billowing into the dwelling.

“Now I have answered your questions Omega, I can feel your Alpha pacing my border anxious. It's getting on my nerves. Return to him so he can settle back down.”

You nodded, letting your senses open a bit and sure enough Steve was anxious, although far physically, you could feel him. Nodding as you approached Loki, you held out your hand to him. He eyed it a moment, and then slid his own in yours respectfully to give a shake. “Perhaps soon we will cross paths again, Little Omega.”

“Perhaps we will Trickster.” You bid a final goodbye and now you left a bit more at ease, having the information you and Steve needed to save your family.

#alpha steve x little one #alpha steve rogers #the pack #attack of the winter wolf #shifters fan fiction #marvel au #wolf fan fiction #captain america fan fiction #amber writes #sweater writes #steve rogers au

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lovextriangle · 3 years

Text

Imagine Thorin before The Unexpected Journey

a/n: early release draft, I’ll probably edit more later!

You were never one to fall for the brooding type, but there was no stopping for the inevitable.

The dwarves showed up out of nowhere. They were passing through Gondor on their way to Dunland where Thror, Thrain, and Thorin had decided that place was their best option. Many of their following had dwindled, most headed for the Blue Mountains or the Iron Hills. Dunland was a place of no importance, it was just a place for them to seek refuge. They had no plans of staying there, for the true goal was to take back their home, Erebor. Though a plan like that already had people grimacing for the bloodshed was still fresh and the loss was many. How could they overcome a beast that had defeated them so easily on their own home front.

They needed allies, they needed help, not from men, and definitely not from the elves, but from their own people, dwarves assisting other dwarves. That is what Thorin thought anyways. But with supplies running low and spirits at an all time downward spiral, they would have to start from the ground up.

About a month after the traveling dwarves had passed through Gondor and finally settled into the neighboring Dunland, Thorin seeked out work. The big city was the best place to look for it, though no one cared about the tragedies a person had been through, if you had no talent or skill, you wouldn’t find a job. Luckily dwarves were brimming with skills and their expertise was known for crafting weapons. The grandson of the King Under the Mountain, became a blacksmith of Gondor for the sake of putting food on the table. He had a perpetual frown on his face as if it was engraved there permanently.

He had all the reason to be, rumors spread fast in Gondor of what had happened to the dwarves and the almighty Smuag, the terror of their lifetime. Everyone was afraid of what the dragon would do next. Most thought that the dwarves would bring it with them somehow, as if they carried bad luck. So Thorin was well aware of how much the people of Gondor didn’t want him there. He wasn’t wanted anywhere. But the skills he possessed as a smith kept his employer from kicking him to the curb like others had done before.

“Another fine piece of weaponry Thorin. The next order is a pair of long swords,” grunted Izec the chief blacksmith of the establishment that Thorin worked for. Sweat ran down Thorin’s forehead as he leaned back to stretch out from the hammering position he had been in. His back ached, he had been finishing up the fine details of his last assignment, the entirety had taken three days, the last five hours he had just completed. He was tired and in need of a break. But Thorin liked pushing himself past that point nowadays. He didn’t really care much about his body at all, he was angry all the time, and it felt good to hammer down something that would bend to his will. If only other things in his life went that way…

“Take a lunch and be back before long, ya hear?”

Thorin only gave a nod as he wiped the sweat from his hands onto his pants as he took his leave from the shop. It was midday in Gondor and people were everywhere. The weather was hot and stuffy, no summer time breeze in the air, Thorin guessed it was just his luck. He had eaten at a couple of stands in the past, the food men served were at least better than elves but it was nothing like home. Weaving through the crowds, he ignored the glances he got, it wasn’t exactly rare to see a dwarf in Gondor but this was definitely the birthplace of men.

He hadn’t been to this particular meal stand before, he was complacent enough to try it since the others hadn’t left a lasting impression for him to seek them out. He just wanted a good, quick meal to regain his strength and head back to work.

“What’ll it be?” Thorin had to take a slight step back to take in the whole menu. “Roast will do.” His response was a curt reply, quick and ready to move on. “7 shillings,” you matched his reply, not really wanting to drag out the conversation either. This was only business after all. Out came a pouch from one of his pockets as he gathered the correct amount. You hadn’t exactly been looking directly into his eyes, just glancing over everything else about him.

He was dirty, a hard working dwarf. Long dark hair, that was thick but not matted. He took care of himself or at least his hair. His cheeks had what looked like dirt or maybe ash from a fire. Dwarves were usually blacksmiths around here so you took an educated guess. “You work with Izec?” you hadn’t intended to ask out loud but it seemed you couldn’t help yourself. There was a reason for asking after all.

Thorin met your gaze, ice cold irises told you one thing. That he wanted his meal and to be left alone. “Yes.” The one word reply, a clear warning to not ask anymore questions. “I’ve placed an order for a piece of metal myself..” it was a low response from you as you had gauged his reaction. He didn’t seem curious or to care about the details of what you had ordered at Izec’s. With that you gave him his meal and he gave you the shillings.

“Thanks.” He was gone, not stopping at any of the nearby tables set up to sit and eat. You watched as he parted ways, and wondered if he would come to your stand another day. Such cold eyes, you had the feeling he wouldn’t. Lunch hour was busy, and more customers took up your thoughts and as soon as the dwarf had came he disappeared from your mind.

A week passed before Thorin decided he had a particular craving. He had thoroughly enjoyed the roast from last time, and had wanted to stop by again. He had lasted a week only because he did not wish to be remembered, he simply wanted the good food and nothing more. Chitchat could wait until after he had reclaimed Erebor. But Thorin found that you simply couldn’t just hand him over the meal without at least one question being asked.

“How’s work?”

“What’s it like being a smith?”

“What do you think of Gondor?”

“You must really like roast, would you like to try our roasted chicken?”

No matter the angry stares or the frustrated sighs, Thorin would respond begrudgingly to each question. He liked the chicken now too, and from the four more times he had stopped by (on different days of course) it was quite apparent that this was his favorite food stand now. Because of the appetizing meals. Not because of your curious brown gaze. Our the sprinkle of freckles that were cast across your face. You had steady hands too, careful in passing and gentle in receiving. The few times your fingers had touched when he had exchanged his money had given him surprising chills. Your touch was quite cold and felt foreign from his hot temperatures.

It was getting a little easier to talk with one another. But Thorin didn’t make it to where it was ever a fluent conversation. He was only here for one thing after all. “Do you eat at Izec’s?” You decided to use up your one question on that this time. If you had counted right this would be your fifteen encounter and you still hadn’t caught his name, they just had so many other interesting things to know first, but you were getting pretty curious about that particular piece of info.

“Yes.” Thorin nodded, and the exchanged of meal for money transpired. You decided you weren’t satisfied, “Well isn’t it a bit stuffy to eat in there?” Thorin had taken one step away, “Sometimes” he agreed, not very happy that this was turning into more than the one usual question. “Well you could eat by the stand.. I give out complementary bread to my customers who do.” This was a lie, but maybe some enticing fresh bread would make him stay a little longer. “Maybe next time…” He wasn’t buying it, or maybe he wasn’t that hungry, or maybe he didn’t want to answer anymore questions. Whatever the reason, he was gone before you could talk him into it further.

Your sigh was obvious as it was loud.

“Maybe he’s just not into ya”

Your eyes immediately rolled, “Can it Howser.” The neighboring stand was a flower seller. He sold beautiful orchids when in season. But he was terribly nosy. “Well I’m just sayin, he’s only ever given you one-worded responses. Can’t get much dryer than that!” He laughed to himself at your misery. It was true you were getting nowhere in the sense of progress. Progress in what exactly? You weren’t entirely sure, maybe you could admit you had a crush on the recluse dwarf. “Any ideas then? I’ve tried to point out at least my interest,” you glumly stated, not wanting this to turn into some laughing stock at your failures.

“How about giving up?” Howser laughed, and the laughingstock it was. You glared at him as he tried to choke back his giggling. “Thanks.” You answered sarcastically and stopped paying attention to him, to which he tried to offer real advice but was left to be ignored.

Maybe giving up would become an option if the dwarf never came back. But he did come back, and it no longer took a week in between his visits. It was more frequent which had him occupying your thoughts more than the usual. The only thing that didn’t change was how uninterested he seemed in you. Which had Howser teasing you as soon as the dwarf departed. The game of chase felt like forever until that one fateful day.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, the sun taking its course to the west. It was unusual for the dwarf to come so late and even more unusual for him to be carrying a package. “What’s th-“ Your words were cut off with the thud of the item being placed on your counter. “Your order.” Thorin replied, already knowing the answer to the unfinished question. Izec was well acquainted with most in Gondor, which made him a good businessman. But once Thorin had told him about your stand and how good the food was, it was now tasked to him to deliver the finished product.

“Thank you for bringing them, you didn’t have to,” Thorin didn’t say anything as he had been told to do so it wasn’t like he was doing you a favor. With the silence, you decided to tear the parcel excited to see the results. Two beautifully slender long swords were revealed to you. Your breath was sucked in as you saw the fine lines and detailed swirls,

“Is it to your liking?”

This was the first question, he had ever asked to you. Just that had your heart rate accelerating. You assumed he had not only brought it to you, but had been the one to create such refinery. “It is, absolutely.” You beamed and he nodded, “To what name can I thank for such hard work?” You figured now was as good as anytime to finally ask the burning question. He was a mystery man, a stranger with no name, and you couldn’t continue to go on like such.

“Thorin.” He answered and had thought to himself that you had already known since most in Gondor knew from the rumors. “Thank you Thorin, I will treasure them.” He was never one for smiles, but somehow you knew he was at least proud of his work, and satisfied in knowing that you would be the one the wield them. You were positively optimistic in thinking that things would only get better with the two of you from here as he walked away. You let him go with no questions trailing him. With his back turned he held up his hand in departure, you couldn’t hold back your grin.

“Until next time,”

#the hobbit #jrr tolkien #there and back again #dwarves #dwarf #thorin imagine #thorin x you #thorin fic #thorin oakenshield #erebor #hobbit fanfiction #fan fic #imagine

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute. “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always.

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply.

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

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