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hot-astrology · 2 months

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VERTEX SYNASTRY

*The destined LIFE CHANGING FORCE *

Our minds don't always grasp that our souls are on a mission. We can't fathom that we have decided to go through multiple chaotic experiences. Sometimes, these experiences lead us to evolve and wake up to see what our souls are doing all along. We all have fated meetings, situations, and experiences throughout our lives. The vertex is a location in our natal charts that is not a physical object. This point is very powerful, and some think this is one of the main focal points in the natal chart, much like your North node.but more so this point is where you will have your life changing encounters with different souls on your journey for your evolution.

Meeting that special person out of thin air, while randomly picking up ice from the local store at 1 a.m., or bumping into your soulmate while getting stuck on an elevator with them. These situations are never a coincidence, more like a fated meeting. It's always events and scenarios playing out in our everyday lives. Many of these situations encourage us, inspire us, bless us with someone with good fortune for us,even help us see our own potentials and gifts or vice versa. Don't forget the areas in our life that we need shaking up in and help take us out of our comfort zone to put some urgency and fire up under our ass.

These meetings can not be avoided or postponed. Some things in life are just what they are. Your soul chose this incarnation, and on this trip, it set up different scenarios and experiences to play out to help wake itself up to get headed on its journey. When it comes to fated meetings with a past life spouse, girlfriend, boyfriend, lover, fling, or even a crush. This can play out in many different ways that can be very spontaneous, romantic, or toxic. Your soul chose to meet up again with these encounters to handle unfinished business, 1st time hookup, or to be together forever, or let's say just together until…

In a synastry chart, the vertex can be in conjunction or aspected by the other planets. This will display different scenarios playing out in both your lives. Now, transits play a major factor in seeing how events play out or unfold. Learning and understanding this point as well as the transits could help you know how you and your spouse met, why you met, and what's to come further down the road. Well, we have some aspects with the vertex that show your fated meetings this lifetime. If you don't see a certain aspect that you're looking for, please message us in our email. We will gladly help you get the information you and your partner need to understand more about your relationship.

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Vertex 1h: This overlay shows that these two were meant to find each other. More than likely, one or both feel like they have met the one. There can be a strong physical attraction, and this could be one of the first things the house person notices about the vertex person. l They both feel like they were meant to be in each other's lives.

Vertex conjunct North Node: Their paths have crossed, and the vertex has come to awaken the north node on their journey. The meeting is powerful & and the nodal person feels very attracted to vertex person. Usually, the North node will feel like they have to get their life together. These two can feel like they are spiritually connected. However, once the vertex person is ready to leave, north node person can have a hard time letting go.

Vertex 7h overlay: This overlay shows that through this meeting, a relationship was meant to form. This will most likely be a long-term connection, and you will both feel a strong connection to each other.

Vertex-Venus: Love is in the cards, and possibly marriage. Overall, this shows falling in love and romantic/creative encounters. Especially for the conjunction, this is more than likely to turn into a marriage.

Vertex conjunct Uranus: These two meet unexpectedly. The Uranus person is here to change the vertex person's life in some way. There is an unorthodox & strange connection. Whichever house this conjunction falls into shows what part of life will be shaken up. These two together are likely to turn some heads & raise a few eyebrows due to Uranus's unique & unconventional nature. This encounter won't be normal, and it is important; These two don't try to fit in with society's standards. They are here to awaken & bring excitement/abrupt change into each other's lives. This description can apply to other aspects as well!

Vertex conjunct Pluto: Similar to Uranus, this aspect brings change, but it's more of a slow evolution pluto person works on the subconscious of vertex person over time and years. This is not fast like Uranus & it's not exciting, but it is binding and obsessive. Pluto emerges into the deepest parts of the vertex and brings out these qualities that they need to heal & learn from, which causes a transformation. The house in which this conjunction takes place will show what area this evolution is likely to take place in. At first glance, the vertex person can be intimidated or extremely enticed by Pluto person. There is something complex about this connection, and it can be extremely private regarding what these two have going on. This description can apply to other aspects as well!

Vertex conjunct Neptune: You two met in the astral realm before the physical realm. There is a psychic and almost telepathic connection. This comes naturally. You just know what the other is feeling, and you could both have intense dreams about the other. Neptune is the higher octave of Venus, and although many say that Neptune is delusional, that's only when this energy is used in its low vibrational state. Also, when you aren't spiritually in tune or evolved. Anyhow, Neptune shows unconditional love. This is an aspect that shows this energy, and no matter how hard you try, it'll happen. There's a spiritual connection, and ascension is possible here. There's this feeling that the other feels unreal or from another plane of existence. This will be a very creative & transcendental experience.

Vertex-Juno: Long-term commitment is on the table for these two. Marriage is something these two will think about. Especially on the part of the Juno person, vertex will feel a pull towards Juno, almost like they have to be with them or commit to them.

Vertex conjunct Sun: Here, the sun is bringing what you didn't know you had. Sun person has come to boost vertex persons self-confidence. This is an encounter that will make the vertex have some character development. They will be very attracted to each other, The sun helps vertex person discover themselves & talents they didn't know they had. The house in which this conjunction occurs shows what part of the vertex person will develop.

Vertex 3h/9h: The keyword for this axis is learning & growth. If your vertex or someone else's vertex falls into the other's 3h/9h, expect to gain experience. This can be very chatty & you both are very intrigued by each other due to the differences that are there if this is occurring in the 9h house. The 3h house shows similarities between two people.

Vertex 9h overlay: The 9h is all about long-distance traveling, morals, ethics, laws, spiritual values, and higher learning. And most importantly, good karma. So here, 9h person acts as the teacher & guide. The 9h person will bring new experiences towards the vertex person, opening their eyes to new beliefs & knowledge.

Vertex-Moon: These two are meant to learn what it's like to have a secure,& emotionally fulfilling connection. This aspect shows a close bond, and likely, they are someone you will remember for a long time. You will look back on times with them as sentimental & nostalgic. This is also an aspect where you two are likely to have an intuitive connection. It's easy to understand what the other is saying without them saying it. Subconsciously & and emotionally, you two grow to get one another.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬

𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔: 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐳 || 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢

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whorekneecentral · 5 months

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The Night Before Christmas

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: snow storms, delayed flights, slight disappointment, mention of a christmas miracle, hitchhiking - don't worry andrea is there for adult supervision, incorrect ski terms and whatnot - idk I don't ski, old ladies love joris, fear of flying/small planes, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, cuddles in bed.

Word Count: 2,225

Author's Note: so sorry for the delay in posting this, I've been in a bit of a slump lately and im trying to get back on schedule with the posting, bare with me lmao

merry smutmas series

A massive snow storm delays Charles’ flight home for the holidays and you both begin to give up hope but a Christmas miracle occurs.

Christmas was a bit of a mess this year.

December 24th and Charles Leclerc was stranded in Italy with Andrea and Joris. Charles had gone because he had a Christmas event to do with Ferrari, Joris and Andrea had accompanied him but they decided to go up north and go skiing for the remainder of the week.

They hadn't planned to push it so close to Christmas and then the snow came down; the stupid snow which blocked the roads and left them stranded in the mountains of Italy.

You were a bit disappointed when your boyfriend called to tell you that he wouldn't be able to make it home in time for Christmas. You asked him if there was anything you could do and he told you because of the snow, he wasn't exactly sure when he'd get home.

Charles could hear the disappointment in your voice, and it made him sad to know that he wasn't gonna be able to be home in time to spend Christmas with you.

It was as if Andrea could read Charles' mind; "what?"

"We have to get out of here, we need to go home."

"I know," Andrea tells him, Joris looks up from his laptop, "everything is closed, the roads, the airport, like.. we're stuck."

Charles was nothing if not determined. He made it his mission to make it home in time to spend Christmas with you - bit of a tight task considering it was 10pm on Christmas eve. Nonetheless, he and the boys rallied up - not like Joris or Andrea had a choice - and followed Charles out of the ski resort.

They made it about 2 miles down the road trudging through the snow before they finally came across a ski ranger, the man on his way down the mountain to pick up something they needed on the resort. He was kind enough to let them get in, the 3 of them squished into the back seat as the ranger drove them down. Due to the snow, it took them triple the time to go down than it took to go up but it was progress nonetheless.

Once they made it to the town, they were at crossroads again. How are they going to make it to the airport?

It was a one step at the time sort of plan, if they thought too far ahead, they'd just give up.

Joris wanders into the one place that was still open, a little bakery that was run by the older couple that lived there and they had a grandson who lived not too far off from the airport. The roads were cleared down there but they had no car.

The couple happened to be closing up for the night and on the way to their grandson's, the older woman took a liking to Joris, holding his arm as he led her over to their car.

"Charles!" Joris shouts, waving his friend over. Andrea and Charles wandering over. "Yeah?"

"This is Maria, she and her husband are on their way to grandson's, who lives like-" "He lives five minutes from the airport, let us take you."

"Are you sure?" Charles asks her, as much as he wants to get home, he wouldn't want to put a sweet old woman out of her way.

The woman pinches Charles's cheek, "yes please, I cannot leave you out in the cold. Come, come." She tells him, Andrea helps the older gentleman put all the luggage into the trunk, the 5 of them getting into the car - Charles, Joris and Andrea squished into the backseat again.

The older gentleman, Joe, was just as sweet and welcoming as his wife. They told them stories from when they moved there, how they opened their bakery and their family. As much as Charles appreciated their kind gesture, he was wondering if maybe he should have offered to drive them to the airport.

At some point, an excruciatingly long 3 hour drive - Joe drove slower than most, they made it to the airport.

Maria rolls the window down, saying goodbye to Joris. The photographer holds her hand as she calls for Charles. "Make sure you come back! And bring your girlfriend."

"We will, thank you both so much. I don't know what I can do to repay you."

"Take us to the race next year," Joe calls from next to his wife. Charles laughs, "sounds good, I'll come back and bring your passes."

The 3 of them run into the airport, the boards in front of them display only one word listed to all of the flights - canceled.

Big, bold, red letters crush Charles's heart and his chances of getting home.

Joris pats his friend's shoulder, Andrea already one step ahead of them trying to see if they were anything they could get on to make it home in time - after all, he wanted to get home to his family too.

It's an hour of Andrea bickering with the very tired and annoyed woman behind the counter before Charles joins him, asking her if there was anything they could get on to go home.

The flight to France was 2 hours, he'd manage anything at this point.

"There's one flight, a small passenger plane. I'd have to ask the pilot first."

"Please," Charles says, "I'll pay extra if I need to."

After what felt like another hour the woman finds them and tells them to follow her; she checks them in, getting their passes to them before directing them to where they'd meet the pilot for their flight.

When she said it was a small plane, Charles was expecting small but not this small.

The plane looked like those water planes you'd take from the mainland to an island - it didn't hold more than 6 people.

Charles is just clinging to his seat, counting down the minutes until he can get off that plane. He feels his ears pop, the thud as the plane meets the runway in Nice and he's thanking every god out there for that. They thank the pilot, trying to figure out if they should take the train or just drive home.

None of them have a car at the airport and thank god, it wasn't snowing.

It was Christmas morning, the airport was a madhouse and Charles didn't typically do this but he did use his F1 status to get them a rental, he signed a few autographs for the staff behind the counter and they were off again.

The sun is peeking over the Monaco pier, Andrea drove them home because Charles was too antsy to drive. They dropped him off first.

"Thank you guys, really." He says, standing on the curb with his suitcase.

"We didn't have a choice," Joris tells him jokingly, Andrea nods. "Tell y/n we said Merry Christmas."

"I will," Charles smiles, wishing his friends well before waving them off.

It was good to be home; the man made his way up to your shared apartment, the lights off as you were still sleeping - your soft snores filling his ears as he quietly made his way to the bedroom.

You're tucked away under the covers, the blanket wrapped you up and kept you warm during a lack of Charles in bed. He knew you were a deep sleeper, the fact that he had accidentally slammed the door and it hadn't woken you was sign enough.

He stripped out of his clothes, making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. At some point he thought he heard you shift, he peeked out the door way to find you still sleeping.

Charles joined you in bed shortly after, his arm snaking around your waist, the coldness from the bracelet he had on startled you. Your body responded before you could, taking a second to gather your thoughts - the fight or flight kicking in.

He presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, the smell of his cologne and toothpaste filled your surroundings. "Charles, you're home," you whispered, turning to face the man.

You couldn't fully believe it, not after his call last night, telling you that he wouldn't be making it home.

Your boyfriend smiles, kissing your forehead. "I'm here."

"How?" You mumbled, moving closer to him. Charles's hand presses to your back, rubbing the bare skin softly. "It's a long story, for another time."

You hum, not really caring for the story at the moment. All that matters is that Charles was home and he was home for Christmas. You opened your eyes slightly, peeking at your boyfriend. Both of you wore the same sleepy look - you having just woken up and Charles after a long night of traveling.

You kissed his chin, the man hummed in response. You follow the structure of his face, moving from his chin to his jaw and up to his sideburns, down his cheeks and finally to his lips. Charles pulls you flush against him, his lips holding your hostage.

It had been a long week apart and you both missed each other terribly. Andrea often says you two are like high school kids, all young and in love.

Your arms wrap over his shoulders, pulling the man on top of you. Charles settled himself between your hips. Your boyfriend pulls away from your lips, much to your dismay and finds himself moving down to your neck, along your collarbones and to your chest. Now propped up on your elbows, you watch as your boyfriend's head dips, his teeth softly grazing your stomach on his way to between your legs.

Charles glances up at you and pulls your panties to the side. He was close enough that you could feel his breath on you, your head dropping back when his tongue finally met you.

You look down at your boyfriend between your legs; the man smiling up at you as his arms hook your thighs to pull down flat on his face.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. Charles’s hand on your hip rocks you back and forth slightly, just enough that he can hear his name fall from your lips.

Your hand rests on his cheek, “I can't believe you're home.” Your eyes meet his blue ones.

“I'm right here, baby.”

You pull him back down for another kiss. Charles’ hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressed to your clit. Your back arches from the sudden touch, moaning against his lips.

Charles smiles, his heart fluttering every time knowing he’s the one that reduces you to nothing more than a whimpering mess.

“Please,” you pull on his hair, “Charles.”

“What?” He asks, rubbing circles with his thumb.

You can’t help the whimper slipping past your lips. “Fuck me, please.” You ask sweetly and how could he ever say no to you?

Charles finds himself moving to hitch your leg on his hip, lining himself up with you before pushing into you. Your back arches and he gives you a second to adjust to him before moving. You’re biting your lip so hard, you probably drew blood.

Your hand drags down his torso, pressed against his toned stomach when you speak. “You feel so good,” you whisper, knowing you can’t speak any louder.

“Yeah?” He calls, hand slipping between the two of you.

Your red nails, painted for the holidays, digging into his skin, leaving matching red marks matching the colour of your nails against his pale skin. “Fuck- please yes.”

Charles doesn’t quit; his fingers rubbing on your clit, the other hand moving your leg from his hip to rest over his shoulder. Just when his ego couldn’t get any bigger, it did. The 16 hanging off the silver chain around your neck, sitting flat against your sternum.

He can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to it, in the process pushing your leg back. The sound that left your mouth was nothing if not music to his ears.

The sudden ego boost, Charles takes his chance to ask you. “Who makes you feel this good, amour?”

You’re trying to answer him but between keeping the same position and his excruciating pace, you couldn't bring yourself to answer him.

Charles asks again. “Who makes you feel this good, amour ?”

A strangled answer slips past your swollen lips; “You, only you Charles.”

The answer satisfies his ego, his focus is making you cum. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, your boyfriend has now moved your other leg over his shoulders.

“Charles-” you call, your eyes meeting his. He can feel the way you’re clenching around him, his hand moving back to your clit.

“I know,” he hums, “me too.”

A few more sloppy thrusts and both of you fall over the edge, one after the other. Charles kisses by your ankle before letting your legs down, settling against you between your legs still.

Passing a hand through his hair, you smile at your boyfriend; his eyes all droopy and a sleepy smile on his face.

"You're here," you whispered, he nodded and his stubble scratched against your bare skin. "I'm here."

You hum quietly, the sun shining through the curtains in the room, the two of you cuddled up in each other's arms.

"Shall we open gifts?" Charles asks and you shake your head, "they're not going anywhere, let's stay in bed for a bit longer."

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your soft skin. "I like that idea."

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#merry smutmas xoxo #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 days

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Winter's King 16

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I didn't sleep very well but I'm here.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you move North, the sunlight fades sooner and rises later, the nights cooling with each mile. Nearly a fortnight on the road, and you return to the service of the queen. Bryce escorts you between the carts, gesturing in passing to his comrades, other times letting past another body on their own mission. You reach the front of the train where men with swords pace and keep watch over the surrounding lands.

“Evenin’,” Bryce greets the guards outside the queen’s tent and they grumble back. The weariness of travel has overcome many of the travelers.

You dip your head down and approach the tent flap. Before the card can pull it back for your entrance, it sweeps open from the other side. You step back as another figure falters before you. The king keeps hold of the silk and his eyes skim over you. He tilts his head and moves to hold the fabric open, beckoning you through with his large hand.

“Your highness,” you murmur.

His jaw squares but he says nothing. As you enter, the fabric falls heavily behind you. The king’s expression lingers in your mind, his silence even more. The tick in his cheek was hard to miss and you can hear his heavy footfalls as he stalks off.

Within, the queen sits on a bench, playing with the tassel of her belt. Her father, Lord Dustan, stands to the side, arms crossed as he makes small steps back and forth. He tuts and chews his thumb.

“Your husband does not behave as son-in-law,” the duke gripes lowly, “he would have let Debray fall to those vandals. He cares only for his frost lands.”

“Father, he is only eager to be home. As much as I dread the cold, I cannot help but feel as such. I tire of this endless road,” Queen Jazlene yawns into a cupped hand.

“Ah, but you must be a loyal wife. What of mine? What of your mother? She was alone in the castle.”

“And you rode out to save her, didn’t you?” Jazlene prompts.

“I am a lord of the summer lands, I am past my warring days,” Dustan snarls, “he would risk my flesh on an uprising he could crush with his left hand. He tests me!” The duke circles around as he jabs his finger in the air, “I deserve more dignity, more respect. I delivered him his kingdom.”

“Yes, father, he is a frigid man,” Jazlene bemoans, “as icy a husband. He does neglect us both.”

“Neglect?” Dustan faces his daughter, “does he not see to his contract?”

She frowns and bats her doey eyes as she looks away, “it isn’t that he doesn’t fulfill his duty, it is only... how might I get an heir if I lie with my husband only once in a moon?”

“Does he mean to deceive us? A son will bind us. A son is what we need. Does he think the summer lands will follow a king who does not sow his seed?”

“I do not know, father. I... I have tried all I can think of.”

“Mm,” the duke hums darkly, “that won’t do at all. Not at all. When I married your mother, she was swollen with you almost as soon as the vows were said. No, no, it won’t do. I will have word with the king, make certain he does not treat my daughter, his queen, so coolly.”

Dustan stop and twiddles his fingers. You try to imagine him confronting King Geralt. Surely it is bluster for the sake of his daughter.

“...we are ruined without an heir...” he mutters.

Jazlene sits forward on the bench, “ruined, father? I am queen--”

“Yes, yes, you are queen, but a queen has her duty too,” Dustan insists, “and it cannot be done with a negligent king. Leave it to me, daughter. The next I see the king, I shall handle our business. As I have ever done. Do you believe in me? For I did deliver you a fine marriage, didn’t I?”

“Yes, father.”

The duke goes to his daughter and rubs her shoulder. He leans in and you shrink against the tent wall, making yourself small.

“Should it prove poor judgment,” his whisper scratches from his lips, “I will figure a way out.”

He kisses her hair and turns to march out. He takes not notice of you though that is expected. Jazlene sighs as the flap falls and she leans back on her hands, swaying her leg.

“Ah, the maid,” she cheeps, “you will fetch hot water for my feet. They ache.”

“Yes, your highness.”

She grins, a catlike expression and sits up straight, “yes, that is right. I am a queen and soon, the king will be certain to treat me as such.”

You flit off to your duty. As you emerge, your chest stirs with unease. Something about their conversation has you unnerved. Though they said nothing outright, it feels as if there is more laced between the words. The queen and her father hardly sound as allies to the king.

You try to wipe the apprehension from your mind. You are but a maid and not so well-versed on noble matters. It isn’t your place to unpiece their declarations or untangle their riddles. You are to get the water to sooth the daughter of Debray’s feet, it may yet save you a box to the ears.

⚔️

You shiver as the cart bounces over the hard ground. You count a month or so since your departure from the capital though the days blend in a fog. The gradual creep of the chill has advanced upon the part, slowing the wheels, and sending the riders to pause and cover their horses. You keep the fur cloak over your lap as you lean into the corner of the cart though Bryce seems enlivened by the atmosphere.

The dim sky harkens the crossing of the intangible barrier between the summer and winter lands. Sprawling plains and rounded feels give way to rocky passes and jutting mountains, interspersed with lumpy tundras speckled with patches of mud. Several times, your soldierly escort has had to help yank free the wheels from some rut or another.

“Are we there?” You ask through as chatter, blowing into your hands. “The Hinterlands?”

“Mm, by my guess, we are at the Fox’s Tail. You see, it is the little strip of land where no man lives, summer or winter,” he explains, reaching to scratch his beard. You envy the warmth it must give to his cheeks. “Isn’t so cold yet, mouse, better brace yerself.”

You nod and look ahead at the grey, brown expanse. There are dustings of frost but not snow, only on the distant caps of rugged mountains that shadow the horizon. You hug yourself as Daisy’s breath plumes in misty clouds around her head.

“Why does no one live here?” You ask.

“There are no trees, no grass to feed the livestock or game,” he shrugs, “it is barren...” he sucks his teeth and thinks, “there was a war. Hundreds of years ago, maybe more. The summer folk spilled upon the winter lands, some squabble over a slain lord... they put salt to the earth. They did not only want vengeance on the living, they wanted their descendants to suffer for their misdeeds. Starve out an entire people.”

He snorts and shakes his head, “what the summer people didn’t understand is that the winter skinned do not stay still. They move with the winds. You’ll see, mouse. You haven’t done the last of yer scurrying.”

You huddle down as another cold breath sweeps through the air. You’re not used to it but you will be. That’s how it always is. You just have to take what you get and make it work. You can’t complain for what you have; a warm cloak, a cart, and a kind companion.

⚔️

Your teeth chatter as you hold closed the front of the fur cloak, the hood over your head as you walk the frozen earth. More often than not, you’ve left the prized cape in your cart for your return. It is too heavy to wear while serving the queen but the weather permits you no mercy. It is far too bitter to forgo the extra layer.

Bryce is unbothered in his mail and the simple fur trim the collar of his wool cloak. He only seems to thrive in the dipping temperatures, stoking a fire for your nocturnal return so that you may sleep in its warmth. His constancy keeps you from mourning the lost summer sunshine.

He stands behind you as you cross to the queen’s tent, now raised with several layers to insulate the walls. You enter as you do every night, unnoticed as Queen Jazlene mindlessly stares into the pages of a book. She’s grown quiet these last weeks as the travel wears on her, even her wardrobe showing the effects.

You feel a gust from beneath the tent wall and step away from it. You watch the queen, huddled beneath a blanket on a stool, shaking as she tries to warm her hands in each other. She wears several satin cloaks layered over each other but the fabric is too sleek to garner much heat.

She puffs into her palms and groan.

“Damn this cold,” she mutters, then sits up, “maid, tea!” She demands, “Something warm! Anything!”

You utter a small “your highness” and spin away to your task. You step out into the cold and go off to find a fire and a pot. The queen has some berry tea in her chests.

You acquire a cup of steaming water from a cluster of servants around a flame. You linger for a moment to absorb some of the fire’s haze then set back toward the royal tent. As you near, a shadow nearly collides with you. You keep the cup balanced as you scramble around the figure. The torch light catches the king’s golden eyes as they meet yours.

“Your highness,” you murmur.

He grunts as he stops fully. He stares down at you wordlessly. You cannot read his expression as shadows dance around his features, flickering various emotions across his face. He bows his head and presses on. You turn to watch him go as concern rolls up your throat.

In those last weeks, months you believe, you’ve not seen much of the king. You’ve wondered after his elusivity. At first, you thought it might be due to the combat at Debray, perhaps he was disheartened by the last act of resistance. Then you surmised it might be evasion of his own wife. Alas, you could not guess and fathomed it was not your place to do so.

This brief encounter further perplexes you. You can’t help but question if it is you. You recall the last day in the capital, the grit of his voice casting you out. Go. The memory ripples through you.

You think much of yourself. It wouldn’t be anything to do with a paltry maid. You focus on the hot water in your hand and continue on to the queen’s tent.

You enter and wrap the dried berries and leaves, steeping them in the steaming water. You hover over the cup, waiting for the water to deepen in hue and cool enough to drink. When you bring it to the queen, you feel her gaze upon you.

“Your highness,” you hand her the cup.

She hesitates to take it, only doing so after deep consideration. She holds the tea in one hand as her other tugs on your cloak. She makes an ugly noise.

“And where did you find this, maid?” She sneers. “Hmm, I sit her in my summer garb and you wear a bear’s skin?”

Your lips part and you raise your shoulders. You look at the tent wall and frown. You poke your hand outside the cloak and touch the soft fur.

“Your highness,” you look down at the cloak then at her trembling grasp on the cup. “Would you like it? You look awfully cold.”

“Yes, I want the damn cloak!” She yanks it hard, “I am the queen and you did not think to offer me a proper cloak? How stupid are you.”

You bow your head and reach to unbuckle the cloak. When it is loose, you shrug it off and hand it over. You will find a spare blanket. There must be some left among the luggage.

She shoves the cup at you and stands. She swings the cloak around her and hums as she pulls its snug around her figure. She sits again and rubs her chin against the fur.

“Much better,” she says, “I’ve been suffering this damnable place for far too long.”

She takes the tea back, spilling a drop on your hand. You back away, the liquid cooling and sending a new chill through you. You cover one hand with the other and clutch tightly, locking your jaw against the tremor that crawls up your spine.

The queen slurps from the tea and makes a face. She sneers, “I want wine,” she pouts, “how long must I be deprived? Wine!” She snarls down at the cup, “but I must drink this bile. Oh, but the king bids it,” she raises her voice mockingly, “you must obey your husband.” She shakes her head and takes another gulp, “at least it is warm. At least--”

She holds the cup away from her suddenly as her face twists. She drops it and recoils, panic washing over her. She keels forward, holding her skirts out of the way as she spews onto the rug spread over the hard ground. She wretches loudly, spasming with the horrid sounds snagging in her throat.

The smell of her vomit permeates the tent. She stays bent over her lap as she pants. You come forward and offer her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. She sits up and gulps tightly, her features drawn. She pats her lips.

“Well, clean it up,” she turns her feet away from the puddle between them. “Stupid maid.”

She pokes a sharp nail into your arm and you wince.

“Your highness, are you unwell?” You ask, “shall I fetch a physician? Or some ginger?”

“No, you stupid cow, I am not unwell,” she flicks her fingers at you before waving away the stench of her bile. She stands and walks away from it, her hand settling on her middle. She faces you and smiles broadly, “I am carrying the king’s son.” Her face darkens as she wrinkles her nose, “I told you, you twit, to clean that up. You best do so before I make you eat it.”

You nod and bend your neck, “yes, your highness, I will fetch water.”

“I don’t care, just do it,” she snaps and rubs her stomach. She lets out a shuddery groan and turns her back to you. You watch as she draws tight the cloak and sways with a trill, “I will be a true queen now. He cannot deny me any longer.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

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vavoom-sorted-art · 5 months

Text

Of Kings And Kids - Chapter 1

Welcome to @gaiaseyes451 and my Christmas collab! We'll be publishing a chapter every day, whith the fifth and final chapter going up on the 26th of December!

Head to AO3 to read the entire chapter.

*~*~*

Aziraphale stood at the town’s well, clay cup in hand, and drank, grateful for the cool water. While the journey from Nazareth hadn’t been particularly arduous, the angel was happy for an opportunity to rest after traversing the loamy, rolling hills; especially after guiding a flock of sheep and goats for the last five days. Michael had assured him, when she was briefing him on the Mission Messiah assignment, that Heaven had an alias prepared this time. Somehow, Silas the shepherd who was leading his flock of bovids to Bethlehem for the autumn livestock auction was not precisely the backstory Aziraphale had expected. Nevermind that Bethlehem had never held a livestock auction before, best not to question these things.

Bethlehem was built around the town’s well which stood in the center of a courtyard. Most inns and lodging houses surrounded the well while private residences were scattered among the slopes. The city was surrounded by a modest wall with roads granting access from the North and South. The land itself was lovely rolling hills with lush grasslands and natural grottos, perfect for grazing livestock. It would have been conspicuous if a shepherd had moved at the same pace as a woman who was about to give birth, so Aziraphale had arrived ahead of the holy family. He was glad for the chance to get acquainted with the town and for the brief respite before the real work started.

Preparing for the arrival of the Messiah really was quite stressful.

Having filled his waterskin, Aziraphale was about to head off to one of the rest houses to sample the local cuisine when a familiar voice called out.

“Hello, angel!”

Aziraphale stopped short. While he was always happy to see this particular demon on his assignments, having him this close to the savior’s birth was a tad disconcerting. He turned and greeted him warmly, even if his smile was a bit cautious. “Crawly! Hello.”

“Ah, actually, call me Crowley.” He said, casually.

“Oh, have you changed your name?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nah, not officially. Just tryin’ it out for a bit. ‘Sides, little odd to have a nobleman called ‘Crawly’.” He said, gesturing to himself.

Aziraphale took a moment to take in Crowley’s garb.The demon was wearing his hair a bit longer, russet waves held out of his eyes by a beaded headband. He was clothed in his preferred hues in a deep charcoal robe and cloak made from fine linen with patterns embroidered in red at the neckline and hem. The cloak was fastened at the shoulder with an onyx snake broach and synched at the waist with a burgundy leather belt with a serpentine fastener. The robe drew his eyes down to strappy sandals that accentuated Crowley’s calves. His wrists were adorned with wide, silver cuffs that emphasized his svelte arms and long fingers.

Aziraphale dragged his eyes back to Crowley’s face and attempted to make eye contact through the dark lenses. “Well, hello, Crowley. What brings you to Bethlehem?”

*~*~*

Keep reading on Ao3 to see additional illustrations! We'd love to hear your thoughts! Find all chapters and additional content for this story here.

big thanks to @goodomensafterdark for the support!

Happy Holidays and Happy Reading!

#Of Kings And Kids #good omens #good omens fanart #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #art #goodomens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanwork #ineffable christmas #christmas #christmas story

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spamgyu · 5 months

Text

BACKBURNER // PART 3

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

She wasn't in deep slumber, but she wasn't awake either.

Y/n had allowed the soft sounds of the waves crashing on the shore and indistinct conversations around her lull her into a light sleep – only to be awoken by the sudden lack of warmth that kissed her skin and droplets of water hitting her bare stomach.

Squinting her eyes open, she was greeted by a drenched Mingyu standing above her – a smile on his face. "Hey Stink, wanna get lunch?" He sat on her towel, feeling his soaked swim trunks cool her thigh.

It has been a while since she had eaten and the thought a bowl ahi poke did sound nice. "Sure." She sat up, stretching her hands above her head.

Y/n took a glance around her and noticed that the group she had originally had been lounging around with were gone; some cooling off in the water and others playing a game of volleyball.

Except Seungcheol and Sunhee, who had his head on her lap while she had her nose deep in the book she had brought down from their hotel room.

Sickening.

"You have fun out there?" She asked rhetorically as he shook his head to get the remaining water out of his ears.

"Come out there with me later, yeah?" Mingyu reached up to fix his hair, slicking it back away from his face.

It was going to take a while for her to get used to this new tone of voice he used around her. She wasn't used to the deep octave he used, mixed with some sweetness in his tone – something she had heard only when he was around the women he was dating.

It sent her chills down her spine, thinking how cringy it was for him to use all his tricks he had done to make all those other girls fall at his feet with her.

"Maybe." Y/n leaned over to move a strand that he had missed.

She too used a tone that he hadn't heard of.

Not directed to him at least.

Their customer service voices.

"You guys are cute when you aren't fighting." Sunhee's voice caught their attention.

...And Seungcheol's, who let out a puff of air as a laugh.

Up until now, Mingyu and y/n had thought he was asleep – his sunglasses hiding his eyes.

"Give it until tomorrow, they'll be fighting again." Seungcheol sat up, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on his head.

Y/n chose to ignore his comment, standing up from where she had been sitting – reaching for her shorts and pulling it up to cover her bottom half. "Can you guys watch our stuff? We'll bring back poke in exchange."

"No."

"Don't listen to him." Sunhee waved him off. "Have fun!"

"Thanks, Sunhee." Mingyu smiled, reaching down to hold y/n hand – allowing her to guide him towards the main road.

"He's irked." He leaned down to mumble in her ears

The walk to the market was a short one, the two not bothering to let go of each other's hands as she once again allowed him to talk her ear off – babbling about tomorrow's trip to the North Shore.

He went on and on about how excited he was to try the shrimp truck he had seen many youtubers rave about; spending hours on end watching vlogs to prep him for the trip.

"Do you talk this much when you're with your girls?" She was genuinely curious, in shock with how he seemed to never run out of subjects to talk about. It was as if he was on a mission to reach a word certain count by the end of the day.

"No, just you." He shook his head, bringing his arm around her shoulders; pulling her closer to his body.

Weirdly enough, she preferred this more than holding his hand – it was more comfortable this way.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"So when did this happen?" Jeonghan motioned to the space between the two, catching y/n's attention from across the table.

After a long day of spending their time at the beach, they had decided their first night all together called for a group dinner at the hotel's restaurant – all at the expense of the best man's card.

Seungcheol.

Sunhee nearly choked on the cocktail she was sipping on, quickly shaking her head. "Oh we're not– no." She laughed.

They could have fooled anyone... just as well as Y/n and Mingyu had been.

They had spent the dinner picking off each other's plates – even showing up in coordinating outfits that Sunhee had sworn was not planned. Y/n had to fight the her brain from making a face when Sunhee had profusely declined the groups teasing when they first took their seats.

"Oh." Jeonghan blinked. "I just figured–"

"We're not." Seungcheol shutting him down, instantly silencing Jeonghan who then turned his body to the direction of y/n and Mingyu.

She had been thankful for the various conversations taking place around the table, allowing her to pretend that she hadn't been listening in to the short interaction happening a few feet from her.

"What about you two?" Jeonghan nodded at them, stopping Mingyu mid-setence while he conversed with Minghao about tomorrow's plans.

"What about us?" He asked, confused with the question being asked.

"When did this happen?" Jeonghan repeated.

"Valentines day." Mingyu replied without a second thought, almost as if he had the story ready for anyone who would ask.

He was quick at his feet, able to muster up a lie with a heartbeat.

She made a mental note to thank him later.

"I think I just realized that I always had feelings for her and I wanted to see if what I was thinking was real, or just– I don't know. Minghao convinced me to go over to her place and just let it all out." He continued, shrugging off the story as if it was the most casual thing that left his lips.

If she wasn't a part of the lie, she would have bought it.

Like Jeonghan, Y/n looked over to Minghao who had nodded in confirmation as he swirled the wine in his hand.

They were great liars.

"Didn't know you had a soft spot, Mingyu." Soonyoung whistled.

"Me neither." Y/n whispered only for the two of them to hear, earning a poke on her side from him – causing a small laugh to escape from her lips.

"Oh my god, they're actually in love." Chan gagged, catching the small interaction that had just unfolded before him.

"You guys should see what I have to put up with at home." Minghao grumbled into his wine glass before taking a long sip.

The teasing? The bickering over which show to watch? The hour long debate over a movies plot? The impromptu karaoke sessions in their living room? Yeah, Minghao did have to put up through a lot.

"I guess the next to walk down the aisle will be Y/n and Mingyu." Jeonghan joked.

"Mingyu? Yeah right." Seungcheol chuckled.

Thankfully the rest of the group had managed to drop the topic and redirected the conversation back to Jeonghan – catching up on all the events that has been happening in his life.

Y/n took the opportunity to excuse herself to the restroom as the energy died down, looking down at her feet as she made her way to the back of the restaurant – she had one too many Mai Tai's and did not want to accidentally trip over air.

"Y/n!"

Turning her head to the voice at the end of the hall, she was once again cornered by Seungcheol – with no place to run.

"Can we talk?" He stopped within a foot of her, his voice much softer than the snarky voice he had been using every time he would make a snide comment earlier in the day. "Please?"

Y/n stared at him, unable to come up with an excuse to avoid him.

"Five minutes." She swallowed.

Seungcheol nodded, motioning him to follow her through the doors that lead to the beach – wanting to converse in a much quieter atmosphere.

Once they were at an enough distance from the restaurant, away from the eyeline of the others, Seungcheol came to a stop turning to the girl.

"You guys may be fooling everyone but you're not fooling me." He spoke slowly.

They were caught.

"Did you just bring me out here to pick a fight?" She hugged her arms around her, feeling the cool breeze hit her bare arms.

"Y/n, drop the act. Do you really think that I'd believe you're dating, of all the people in the world, Mingyu? You guys are best friends, yeah I get that- but please, I know you guys don't love each other–"

"Not like how you and Sunhee love each other right?" Y/n snapped back.

Seungcheol licked his lips, shaking his head.

If he wasn't letting up, neither was she.

"You guys have always been at each other's throat, you really think I believe that one day you guys just decided to stop?"

"He knows me better than anyone, Cheol. He knows what makes me happy, what makes me tick. He has wiped every tear that you have caused. He picked me up whenever you left me stranded. He has always been there, more importantly when you weren't."

She wasn't lying.

Behind all the small fights and teasing, the two had always leaned in each other for emotional support.

Just as Mingyu had done for her, she has also always been the one person he called when he was having a tough time – remembering the time that she brought food over to his dorm for a week straight because he had refused to eat after his first girlfriend had broken up with him.

They had their moments, but at the end of the day, she genuinely did love Mingyu.

They have been together through all the season of their lives and she couldn't imagine going through any heartbreak or failed job interviews without having him by her side.

They were each other's person.

"So yeah, sue me if I realized I may have been in love with my best friend too." Y/n continued. "Mingyu has always been there and it's nice being taken care of someone who actually knows me."

"I know you." He defended. "Your favorite color is green, you hate that you're in the medical field because but you chose to go through with it because you didn't want to disappoint your parents, you hate the sound of utensils rubbing together. I know you, Y/n."

"Those are shallow facts." Y/n countered. "Minghao knows those things about me too."

"I know that you had never once thought of Mingyu the way you thought of me." He continued, taking a step closer to her. "What you and I had– have, that's never going to measure up to what you think you're trying to pull off with Mingyu."

"So what? Is this your way of saying you chose me all along?"

"There's no need to choose, y/n." He raised his voice, growing frustrated with her question. "I care about you, and you should know that!"

"How? Huh? You have some crazy way of showing you care." She exhasperated.

"Just because I don't show it the way your little golden boy shows it, doesn't mean I don't care. It doesn't mean I don't want you."

"So do it then, pick."

"I'm not picking." He shook his head. "Just please, just drop the act and–"

"Is everything alright out here?" Mingyu's voice boomed from the steps of the restaurant, jogging over to where they stood.

"Yeah, we just finished talking." Seungcheol brushed past Mingyu, his shoulder hitting him as he bounded back to the well lit building – a stark contrast to the darkness that enveloped them.

She could hear her ears begin to ring as she let out deep breath she didn't realize she was holding in.

"You okay?" Mingyu asked in genuine concern, scanning her face to see if there were any tears that fell from her eyes. He noticed that she was gone for far too long, instantly putting two and two together once he realized Seungcheol was missing from the table. Mingyu had quickly excused himself from the group, not wanting whatever Seungcheol had in mind to ruin not only y/n's night but everyone elses.

Y/n nodded, taking a step closer to him – silently asking for his arms to wrap around her. Both for consolation and to shield from the wind.

"I don't want to go back in there."

"Then we won't." He replied, resting his chin on her head.

"He knows we're just pretending." Her cheek pressed against his chest, her voice in pure defeat.

"Should we take some acting classes?"

Looking up to meet his eyes, she couldn't help but let a small laugh escape her lips. "Should we call it off?"

"I mean, everyone else already bought it." He shrugged. "Why don't we just pretend until the end of the trip. We wouldn't want a break up and a wedding all in one trip."

"Jeonghan would kill us for stealing the attention from him if we announced a break up." Y/n agreed. "Just, chill out on the fake sexual tension okay? It gives me the creeps."

"Whatever you want, stink."

The two stood in silence, Mingyu patiently waiting for Y/n to calm down from the high emotions. She had always hated confrontations, avoiding it as much as possible.

And when it can't be helped, she needed to take a few minutes as a breather to ground herself back to reality – after she had finally processed what had finally happened.

She tended to allow her emotions take full control whenever she was forced to confront a problem; in this case Seungcheol. It wasn't until moments after when she is able fully grasp what had truly happened.

Almost as if she had an out of body experience, watching the scene unfold from afar.

"Do we fight a lot?" She asked, taking a step back from him.

"Just an enough amount of times, why do you ask?" He chuckled.

"That's why he's not buying it. Because we fight a lot."

Mingyu licked his lips, thinking of all the times that they would openly bicker and argue in front of their group. It wasn't in any intentions to hurt each other, it was all out of pure fun. It was just who they were.

"I mean, what if I tease you because I like you." He reasoned.

"What are we, teenagers?"

He shrugged. "Don't let him get in your head. If he doesn't buy it then he doesn't. Let's just enjoy the trip."

She nodded. "One more."

"What?"

"What's my favorite color?"

"What?" He tilted his head in confusion.

"Answer it."

"Well, for clothes; black and white. For little trinkets, green. For other things, pink. For men, red." He listed, a smug smile appearing on his face when he said red.

Laughing, she gave him a playful shove. "Let's go."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"Shit." Mingyu quickly sat up in his bed, looking over to the other side of the room where she was buried deep under the covers on her own bed. "Y/n wake up!"

"Mm..." She grumbled, pulling a pillow over her head.

"We woke up late, everyone's headed up to the North Shore already." Mingyu scrambled around the room, gathering all his belongings needed for the one hour trip up to the northern point of the island.

"Fuck!" Y/n shot up, grabbing her phone to check the time.

7:42 am.

They had all agreed on leaving the hotel by 6am, a few of the boys wanting to catch the morning surf before the waves died down. They had been so tired from the day before and had forgotten to set an alarm before bed.

The group chat had been actively making jokes just an hour ago about how the two most likely have forgotten because they were far too busy doing..... other things the night before, deciding to head up without them.

"I'll text them that we're leaving soon." Y/n typed away as Mingyu slipped into the bathroom to change and wash up.

She was sitting on the bed waiting for her turn when a knock on the door pulled her out of her trance. She wasn't a morning person and it took her some time to finally wake her body up.

To her surprise, Seungcheol was behind the door. "I woke up late too." He grumbled.

"Morning." Mingyu nodded, walking out of the bathroom "Stink, bathroom's all yours."

"I'll wait for you guys in the lobby." He turned his heel.

Just what she needed. An hour ride with Mingyu and Seungcheol.

Fun.

The were in the car in no time, neither one of them uttering a single word to another as Mingyu cruised along highway.

There wasn't much to talk about, and she was more than happy to take in the views of the lush greenery that surrounded them – pulling her film camera out every once and a while to capture the beauty.

"Can we listen to more calmer music, the bass on this thing is making me car sick." Y/n groaned, reaching over to grab Mingyu's phone out of the cupholder – unlocking the device with ease.

He had been using the same passcode for nearly ten years and had yet to change it. Claiming that he'd just forget it.

"Here." Seungcheol's hand stretched out from the backseat, his palm opened with a single candy resting. "It's ginger candy. Helps with motion sickness. Figured you– we would need it."

Y/n hesitantly grabbed it from his hand. "Thanks."

Popping the hard candy in to her mouth, she went back to scrolling through Mingyu's endless playlists – unable to find the right one to match the current mood.

A particular one had caught her eye, letting out a laugh. "Is this– oh my god." She flashed the screen to him, earning a laugh from him as well. "Why do you have my getting ready playlist saved?"

"It has good songs!" He defended. "I listen to it when I work out."

This sent her into more fits of laughter, clutching her stomach as she imagined him bench pressing while the City Girls blared loudly through his headphones. "You're so dumb."

"Maneater keeps my reps on pace."

"Stop– oh my god stop my stomach hurts. Don't talk." She wiped the moisture from her eyes, using another free hand to hit his shoulder.

"If you're not going to pick a playlist, can I have the AUX?" Seungcheol wasn't entertained.

In fact, he didn't find a single part of the interaction funny.

Y/n sat back up, clearing her throat once she had finally calmed down – passing the wire that was once connected to Mingyu's phone over to him.

Within seconds the voice of her favorite artist played loudly in the car.

Supercut by Lorde.

This was also her playlist.

The one she had shared to him months before.

She knew he was staring at her.

She could feel his eyes.

As the beat began to pick up, she felt Mingyu's hand rest on her knee – his fingers drumming along to the song.

"In your car, the radio up. We keep tryin' to talk about us. I'm someone, you may be my love." He nodded, looking over at her – waiting for her to join in.

He also knew this was her favorite song – the two having their fair share of blaring this loudly in his car back home, singing at the top of their lungs as they sped through the road.

"I'll be your quiet afternoon crush. Be your violent overnight rush. Make you crazy over my touch." A small smile crept on her lips as she followed his movements, swaying their bodies to the side.

Moments like this was when she appreciated how well he was able to pick up on her body language and silent thoughts – easily distracting her from any thoughts that could cause her to feel uneasy.

"I should have stayed back." Seungcheol shook his head as he watched the two make fools of themselves – his fingers hovering over the skip button.

He didn't skip it. He allowed for the queue'd music to play on, opting to look down at his phone as they went on singing every single word of the song.

"I'm hungry." Y/n sighed, as the next song played.

"They're gonna meet us at the Sunrise Shack, can you hold off for a thirty-five more minutes?" Mingyu asked, glancing at the navigation.

"I packed some spam musubi's from last night." Seungcheol offered, digging into his backpack to pull out a small tightly wrapped rice and ham combo.

Shaking her head. "I don't like–"

"Y/n doesn't like cold warm food." Mingyu replied at the same time.

"What he said."

Maybe he really didn't know her.

And maybe, they weren't acting.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Y/n watched from her towel as the boys caught one wave after another, laughing whenever one of them lost their footing – sending them tumbling in to the water.

She was beginning to grow bored of sitting in the same spot, but considering the only other option was to walk around the stores a few miles down with Sunhee and Eunji, Jeonghan's fiance, she decided to stay back. She was in no mood to pretend to be close to the girl.

Not after last night.

In the moment of silence, the girl began to replay her and Seungcheol's conversation in her head.

She couldn't believe she was stupid enough to allow Mingyu to talk her into pretending to date him.

Even stupider to believe it would even work.

He was right. He did know her.

He knew when she was lying.

He knew that she wouldn't have dared considered seeing Mingyu in the same romantic light she had seen him.

But that was as far as it went.

He only knew her the same way the rest of their friends did.

Y/n began to think that maybe, if she would have waited it out longer instead of making him choose – things would have been different.

She would have gotten what she wanted.

"You okay?" Jeonghan's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Digging his board down into the sand, he took a seat next to her – looking out into the distance where the rest of the guys were slowly paddling back in.

"Yeah, just thinking." Y/n pulled her lips into a tight smile.

"You made the right choice, you know." He spoke.

"What?" She turned to face him.

"Picking Mingyu." He continued. "He's always had some weird soft spot for you. And I know I don't know much about what you and Seungcheol went through– but– You deserve someone who's willing to drop anything to make sure you're happy. You're Mingyu's Sunhee"

She felt guilty.

Aside from Minghao, Jeonghan was someone who she had grown close to within the group. She found many nights confiding all her secrets to him during their late study sessions at the library.

He was easy to open up to and it broke her heart when he had decided to take a job offer across the country – losing that one person she was able to make a genuine connection with.

She wanted to tell him that it was all a lie, that they were pretending just so she could get a rise out of Seungcheol in hopes that he would realize what he was missing.

But she couldn't.

She was embarrassed.

"Snorkle time!" Mingyu cheered with Seokmin, placing their boards right next Jeonghan's.

"Hi." Mingyu smiled down at her, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek; just missing her lips by a few centimeters.

Taking both of them by surprise, their eyes wide once he had straightened out – luckily for them, no one had seemed to catch on to this.

"Can we slow down on the itinerary, I'm exhausted." Minghao whined, dragging his board behind him – dropping down on to the sand.

"I second that." Jeonghan sighed, laying down. "I want to nap."

"No none of that." Mingyu shook his head, grabbing either one of their arms to pull them up. "Come on let's go go go go!"

"Please tell your him to shut up." Minghao groaned, plopping back down once Mingyu had let go.

"Bug, chill." She laughed as she watch Minghao curl into a ball – groaning about how his body will be feeling sore until next month.

"Boooooo!" He gave her a thumbs down. "Boooooo!"

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"You almost kissed me earlier."

"My bad." He yawned, keeping his eyes on the road.

After a long day of water activities and going around the shops of the North Shore, they were finally making their way back to the hotel. Y/n couldn't be more glad at the thought of being able to wash the salt water and sand off her skin and laying down on the soft mattress.

She was also grateful that Seungcheol didn't need to ride back with them – hopping into the Jeonghan's rental after they had finished off eating at the local shave ice stand.

"I was shocked too, I was too hyper at the time." Mingyu continued, fiddling with the nobs of the A/C unit when he noticed her shiver from the corner of his eyes. "Better?"

Y/n nodded. "No kissing okay? It's weird."

"You're a bad kisser, huh?" He teased.

"I don't know. Ask Seungcheol."

"Gross." He stuck his tongue out.

"Besides, pretty sure you have rabies."

Playing along with her joke, Mingyu rolling up his sleeve to flash her his bicep. "I got my shots up to date."

"Stupid." She snorted, going back to scrolling on her instagram – liking all the posts her friends have uploaded from today's activities.

Y/n felt warmth bubbling in her heart as she saw each and every carousel containing some sort of group pictures. She had missed this – when their group was complete, with no care in the world.

It brought her back to the time when they were all blissfully unaware of the real world; making the most of their college experience.

Before jobs, feelings, and schedules complicated their lives.

"Wanna hear something funny?" She asked, keeping her eyes trained on her screen.

She was looking at Sunhee's post – holding a bowl of shave ice nearly the size of her head with Seungcheol smiling widely in the back.

"Don't I ever?" Mingyu replied sarcastically.

"Jeonghan said I was your Sunhee."

Mingyu remained silent.

"Isn't that hilarious?" She turned her head to face his profile. "You would never put someone through what Seungcheol put me through because of me, right?"

"I'm afraid of commitment but I'm not an asshole, y/n." He glanced at her.

"I'm not Sunhee then... right?"

"I mean, in a way–"

"What do you mean in a way? We're nowhere near like them."

Their dynamic was a stark contrast to Seungcheol and Sunhee's.

Sure, they were very close – knowing each other better than they know themselves. But they knew boundaries.

They knew when to draw the line when it came to friendship, refusing to tread into dangerous waters because that's all they were.

Friends.

Two people, of the opposite gender, can be friends.

"Look, you're my best friend. We have our moments, but yeah- if you being my Sunhee means I'd do anything for you, then maybe?"

"You wouldn't do anything for me."

"Yeah I would." He defended.

"Mingyu, let's be real here." Y/n pressed.

The thing was, she didn't want to be Sunhee. She would never want to be the reason why her best friend's significant other felt insecure – the reason why they would come second best.

She would never wish her position on anyone.

Especially not someone who Mingyu loved.

"I am!" He chuckled. "Maybe I won't cancel on my date last minute for you for a little headache, but if it came down to making sure you're okay, yeah– I'll do anything for you."

He was being serious.

His tone matching his words.

"But I'm not Sunhee." She pressed.

She had her mind set on not wanting to be Sunhee.

She was y/n. She knew Jeonghan was simply making an analogy earlier, but the girl didn't want to be her. Not to Seungcheol, and defenitely not to Mingyu.

"No, you're right. You're y/n. My best friend" He sent her a warm smile, reaching over to give her knee a squeeze. "We're, as you would say, for lifers."

What the girl in the passenger seat didn't know was that she was his Sunhee.

She was the girl that he had fallen in love with.

The girl that he searched for in every other person he tried to date.

If she was his Sunhee then he was her Seungcheol.

taglist:

@thepoopdokyeomtouched/ @scuzmunkie / @yunjin0 / @morkswatermelonnnn / @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan / @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken / @naturelvrgfstealer / @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter / @musingsofananxiouspotato / @f4iryjjosh / @gatorgirl007 / @girlwithimaginarybiaslist / @daisawa / @ttragiquee / @luchiet / @loveforred /@vannabanana1995 / @uniq-tastic / @porridgesblog / @haolistic / @bbl32 / @calumsfringe / @alsktudy / @chansbaybygirl / @alwaysalmostthere / @listxn / @soupbinlily

(tag list closed)

there are some who asked to be tagged but tumblr is being weird and not allowing me to so i am so so sorry!

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whatthetumblfck · 9 months

Text

I Was Born Ready

Summary: You're kidnapped on a mission gone wrong and it only gets worse. You eventually escape, but will Bucky and the team see you the same way?

Word Count: 6517

Warnings: swearing, some injuries, angst, whump

Content: Bucky x reader, Y/N, Avengers, whump, kidnapping. All of my fics are self-indulgent.

Please don't claim my work as your own, but feel free to reblog.

You wiped the sweat from your brow. As far as you could tell, it had been 5, maybe 6, days since you were taken. You knew what HYDRA were doing. They were trying to break you. You adjusted your legs and shifted your weight in the dark, cramped space. For the last several hours, you had been locked in some sort of box, just big enough to crouch or sit with crossed legs. It was hot as hell and you’d been sweating profusely, wondering how much longer you would last before passing out from dehydration or dying from heat stroke. But you tried not to worry about it. They will come for you soon. He will come for you. You just need to hang on a little while longer.

A few more hours had passed, and the heat was suffocating. What little strength you had left was dwindling. You rested your head against the wall of the enclosure and closed your eyes, fighting the nauseating dizziness that threatened to overcome you. The rattling of chains caught your attention. It seemed like the sound was getting closer. It was then you realized you had drifted- asleep? Unconscious? You weren’t sure, but you fought like hell to focus your attention on what was happening right outside your tiny prison. Suddenly, there was a sharp creak of metal and cool light flooded the box. You squinted your eyes, desperate to see what was going on.

“Get up!” a harsh voice demanded.

Your body shook as you tried to stand, but it was no use. You were too weak and dehydrated.

“GET UP!” they shouted angrily, as if that would provide the strength needed to undo the last several hours of torture.

Instead, your body gave up completely and you slumped inside the box. The next thing you registered was the sensation of a cool breeze on your face and the tops of your feet scraping along concrete as they dragged you by your arms back to your cell.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

“The fuck you mean it’s abandoned?” you whispered.

“I mean, I’m not picking up any heat signatures inside the building,” Sam clarified, adjusting Redwing’s controls just to be sure.

Bucky lowered his chin, smiling to himself. He knew you were always looking forward to a fight.

“All right, until we clear it, we’re going to proceed with caution,” Steve began, “Y/N and Bucky, you’re going to enter the south side of the building. Sam and I will cover the north entrance. Position Redwing on the east to detect movement from the access road. Once it’s clear, we set the charges and evacuate.”

You stole a sideways glance at Bucky and tried to hide your excited smile. You loved working with Bucky; you consider him to be your best friend. You felt like there might even be more there too. But you never pushed him. If being friends was all he wanted, then you would be happy with that. Bucky was mostly quiet and reserved, but sometimes he would open up to you, tell you about his life before the war. Sometimes, but very rarely, he would reveal the horrors HYDRA inflicted upon him. You couldn’t respond; only listen in sickened contempt. Your hatred for them became personal because of what they put him through, but you also began to piece together how they operate, their torture methods, and their twisted thought processes. You filed away this information little by little, to use against them and one day, take them down. It became your personal mission, why you were so eager to take on HYDRA related missions, and so disappointed when they turned out to be flops.

Your thoughts were interrupted by an elbow gently nudging your arm. “You ready?” Bucky said as your eyes met his.

“I was born ready,” you replied, smugly.

Bucky smiled at your enthusiasm, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was tired of fighting, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to watch HYDRA burn to the ground. Having you fight beside him, though, was a double-edged sword. He enjoyed your company more than he let on, but he also worried for your safety. He always asked Steve to pair you two together as much as possible on missions (so he could keep an eye on you), and he always received a knowing look in return. You were one of the best fighters Bucky had ever seen, but you could also be impulsive. Most of the time, you managed to compensate for this flaw and come out on top in the fight, but there have been quite a few close calls. Too close for Bucky’s comfort, even if you insisted you had everything under control.

“After you then,” Bucky said, gesturing to the south entrance.

“Such a gentleman,” you flirted, even though your tone was a bit condescending. You didn’t miss the fact that Bucky liked to keep an eye on you. It was obvious, the way he stuck by your side for every mission. It was sweet, but completely unnecessary.

Entering the building was uneventful. As you looked around, you took note of all the dust and debris, the result of what must have been years of no use. Maybe Sam was right, it must be abandoned. What a waste of time. You continued your sweep, clearing each derelict room.

“Second and third floors are clear,” Sam’s voice sounded in your comm.

“Well, aren’t you an over-achiever?” you responded mockingly.

“Y/N, Buck. What’s your status?” Steve asked, attempting to maintain professionalism on the mission. Captain Steve didn’t know how to have fun. Killjoy.

“First floor is clear, heading to the basement now,” Bucky reported, shooting you a ‘behave yourself’ look. You stuck your tongue out at him and ran for the stairwell.

“Y/N, wait!”

“Come on! There’s nothing here. Let’s clear this moldy-ass basement so we can blow it up and get home. I’m starving!” you announced.

Bucky caught up with you and roughly grabbed your elbow to pull you back.

“We need to be careful. This is HYDRA we’re dealing with. You need to take this seriously.”

You ripped your arm from his grasp, offended he would be so rough with you. “This isn’t HYDRA. This isn’t anything. There’s literally nothing here.”

Bucky schooled his expression. He didn’t want to be angry with you, but your recklessness could put everyone in danger. He let out a frustrated sigh, putting his hands on your shoulders and lowering his head to look into your eyes.

“Will you please be more careful? For me?”

You were momentarily stunned by the soft cadence of his voice. But quickly regathered your thoughts.

“Bucky, I am being careful. You need to lighten up.” You shrugged out of his grasp and turned back to the stairwell.

What is with everyone today? The super-soldiers are being super-serious. Even Sam seems like a stick in the mud, definitely not his usual, talkative self. Did you do something to offend them? You thought about the events of the last few days and couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary. Definitely nothing that would explain what everyone’s problem is.

You glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky a few paces behind you as you descended the last of the stairs and reached the basement.

“Well, I didn’t think it was possible, but this looks even more abandoned than the first floor,” you said giving Bucky a pointed look.

“Just keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.” Bucky gently brushed past you to take the lead, advancing down the corridor. He had an uneasy feeling he just couldn’t shake.

“Suspicious?” you remarked sarcastically. “This whole mission is suspicious. What are we fighting here? The cobwebs? The ridiculous amount of dust?” You pushed past Bucky to take the lead again, but when you glanced back, you realized he had stopped. He was looking at you with wide eyes; his expression, one you didn’t recognize.

“What? What is it?” you asked, concern growing in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re right. Nothing about this is right. There’s too much dust. Our source indicated there was activity here less than a year ago. It shouldn’t look like this.”

You looked around nervously. “Maybe the source was wrong.”

“Not likely…”

Unexpected static in the comms made you jump. You could hear Steve’s voice, but it kept breaking up and you couldn’t understand what he was saying until you made something out very clearly that made your blood run cold.

Pull back……’s a trap…--t out…ABORT!

Your eyes locked with Bucky’s. You froze. He was standing about 10 feet from you when you both registered a rapid clicking noise, like a sped-up clock.

“RUN!!” You heard him yell just before the explosion.

The wall behind you erupted, sending you several yards through the air until you collided with the ground. You could feel the heat and unbearable pressure on your back as you lay prone in the ruins. Dust swirled around you. After several moments of trying to remember how to breathe again and process what the hell had just happened, you remembered that Bucky was with you. You glanced over in his direction, but all you could see was a literal wall of rubble, fire, and smoke. You struggled to focus your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that were forming. Damn, that hurt.

Distantly, you could hear someone calling your name.

“Buck--,” your voice was cut off by a coughing fit as the dust invaded your lungs. “Bucky…” you tried again.

“Y/N?” he sounded closer. You could hear movement, crumbling concrete. “Are you hurt?”

It was at this point, you realized you should probably take a moment to figure out the damage.

“Y/N??” his voice sounded more concerned, more urgent. You weren’t sure how long you had taken to respond.

“Uhh…I….I think I’m okay……I can’t move. I think…ahh…there’s something on my back,” you choked out.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’re coming to get you. Just..hang on, okay? Hang on.”

Hearing this made you relax. Getting blown up was exhausting. You were certain you were going to hear about this later. About how you should have listened to Bucky, been more careful, taken the mission more seriously. You closed your eyes, trying to reserve your strength. You would need it to climb out of this burning hole in the ground.

After a few minutes, you felt the pressure on your back lessen. That was fast. You opened your eyes and tried to focus on Bucky’s face, but then you heard his voice from behind the burning wall of concrete. Confused, you concentrated your attention on the blurry figure standing before you. HYDRA. You gathered all your strength, trying to fight, but you couldn’t get a single hit in before a blow to your face rendered you unconscious.

Bucky heard footsteps and scraping rocks on the other side of the barrier. He had finally managed to make a dent in the rubble just large enough to see through. To see you being dragged away by HYDRA.

“NOOOO!” Bucky frantically slammed his metal fist into the rubble, trying to break through, but it was no use. He couldn’t get to you in time. He watched as you disappeared into the dust and smoke.

You were freezing. Another week had passed, maybe two. You weren’t sure. It was the same thing. Over and over. Freezing to the point you couldn’t move or think. Then they would throw you in the box again until you passed out from the heat. You didn’t even know what they wanted. They didn’t ask you anything, barely said three words to you. Wouldn’t answer any of your questions. How the hell did they expect to get information out of you if they didn’t fucking ask you anything? Idiots. You’d be glad to give them as much false information as you could muster.

You were frustrated. Frustrated with this pointless torture and frustrated that no one had broken you out of this shithole yet. What was taking so long?

The next day was new. This time a man in a lab coat came into your cell. Based on the history of everything you have come to know about HYDRA, the lab coat is not a good sign. He peered down at you where you sat against the cold, concrete wall.

“She’s ready,” he practically drooled with excitement. Disgusting.

Two oversized goons entered your cell and brought you to your feet as another ganglier looking goon wheeled in a stretcher. Your stomach dropped. Not good. This is not good. You tried not to let anxiety and fear get the best of you. You’ve endured the heat, the cold, the physical pain and the repulsive goop they fed you, but this was new, and you had no idea what they had planned.

“No. No no no. What are you doing?” You kicked and fought weakly as they strapped you down. You were unable to move.

Lab coat leaned in close to your face. You could smell the wicked stench rolling out of his mouth.

He simply answered, “Phase two.”

……..

“What do you want? You’ve been torturing me for weeks and haven’t asked me a damn thing! Do you even know how this works? No? Must have missed that day in torture 101.”

The lab coat stopped what he was doing and turned to face you. Amusement and almost pity plastered on his face.

“My dear. I haven’t been torturing you. I’ve been preparing you.”

…………

The first injection must have been a sedative and, for that, you were thankful. Your vision became blurry and all your muscles relaxed at once. You could’ve almost fallen asleep. Until the second injection. At first, it was cold, like ice running through your veins. Starting in your arm and flowing through your chest before settling in the rest of your limbs. It was enough to make you shiver and shake uncontrollably. With the last injection came the unbearable heat. It spread through you like wildfire, burning through the sedative and blistering your nerves. It coursed through your body, the agonizing flames filling your skull, threatening to split it open. It was too much. Unbearable. You thrashed your arms and legs beneath the restraints, screaming until you went hoarse. Nothing you did relieved the pain, the burning. You were left alone in your misery, knowing nothing but the searing pain in your head, threatening to end your life. You hoped it would.

Then, it stopped. You thought maybe death had finally taken you and you felt sadness, for Bucky. For the team. But you were back in your cell. This couldn’t be death. Death isn’t this cruel.

You rolled on your side and slowly sat upright, fighting off the dizziness. You felt horrible, like you should be dead, but at least the pain had subsided. You experimentally staggered to the door of your cell and peered through the slot. It was eerily silent. Still, you waited to see if anyone approached. They almost always did when you awoke to send you for another round of torture…or wait. What did he say? They were preparing you..for what? The injections, ice and fire, the pain, all came flooding back to you. What did they do? Your breaths came faster. You had to get out of there. Fear and panic were in control now. You pushed and pulled at the door feverishly, and to your surprise, the door opened. Worried this was another trap, you stepped back, but no one came. What the fuck?

You left your cell and made your way down the hallway, searching for the exit or at the very least, a weapon. The building was completely cleaned out. They left you there, their experiment. Did they think you were dead? Or just a failure? You didn’t feel any different. Those HYDRA morons must have been bigger fucking idiots than you gave them credit for. Still, you weren’t going to stick around. When you finally made it out of the building, you realized you actually recognized the area. You weren’t that far from the compound. It made you sick to think you were only 10 or so miles from home this whole time, and still, they couldn’t find you. HYDRA could have practically walked up and rang the front doorbell, and the team would have had no idea.

It was cold outside and you were dressed only in a thin gown. You walked for hours, determined to make it home. You had no way of contacting anyone. You were surrounded by a few trees and fields of nothing. The final yards leading up to the compound were grueling. You were exhausted. Your feet bled and your legs shook with the effort.

It was early evening, you guessed, when you painfully stumbled into the common room, where Steve, Bucky and Sam all sat, attention focused on various maps and blueprints laid out before them. Steve saw you first, eyes staring and mouth hanging open. It would have been humorous had you not just been through hell and back. Bucky stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Steve’s expression and turned his head to see what Steve was staring at.

“Y/N??” Bucky couldn’t believe it. His eyes ran over your battered form, watching your whole body shake with fatigue.

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to choke back the tears that were now streaming down your face.

But this was all you could handle. You were suddenly dizzy, the room had started to spin and you dropped to your knees as Bucky ran towards you.

“Oh God! Call Dr. Cho!” Bucky ordered, but Sam was already on it.

You collapsed into Bucky’s arms and saw Steve running toward you. Bucky’s alarmed face was the last thing you saw before your eyes involuntarily closed.

When you awoke the next day, you were alone in the med bay. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, trying to force out the lingering headache. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and were about to remove your IV when Bucky walked into your room.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said as he approached you cautiously. “How are you feeling?”

“Um..really..hungover,” you cracked a smile trying to break the tension. “How long was I out?”

Bucky looked at his watch before responding, “About 23 hours.”

“Oh shit. New record.”

Bucky looked nervous. “We looked everywhere..”

“Not everywhere,” you retorted, sounding more bitter than you intended.

“I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

“Well…that makes two of us.” Your eyes stayed trained on the floor. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You spent weeks dreaming about seeing him again, and now you couldn’t even look at him. Why? Were you that angry that they couldn’t find you? They were obviously looking.

Bucky sensed that maybe this wasn’t the best time to broach the subject, so he changed it.

“So..uh…they want to do a debriefing on what happened as soon as you’re feeling well enough.”

You faltered. You didn’t want to talk about it, relive it. Especially so soon. But you’d rather get it over with so you can move on with your life. Put the whole ordeal behind you.

You looked down at the IV in your arm before ripping it out, the blood beginning to trickle down to your palm.

“Doll—what are you doing?” Bucky lunged toward you, grabbing gauze off the bedside table to apply pressure to the site.

You grabbed the gauze and took over applying pressure.

“I’m about to change my clothes,” you began glancing around the room before finding some in a bag below the bed, “so unless you want to see me naked, you can turn around.”

Bucky paused, mouth opening slightly before regaining his composure and turning to face away from you. You caught him off guard, which is honestly, something you’ve never seen happen.

You were a little disappointed. Maybe you’d been reading him wrong, and he doesn’t see you that way. Or maybe he’s just being a gentleman. This isn’t exactly the best time to explore your feelings for one another. Still, it stung.

………………………..

You sat at the table, nervously glancing at all the faces in the room. Fury, Tony, Steve, and Sam all had their eyes on you. Everyone except Bucky. He stood in the corner, holding his gaze to the floor. He looked more nervous than you felt. Weird.

They asked their usual questions, and you answered as best you could. But you didn’t feel comfortable enough to go into extensive detail. You trusted these men with your life, but it was starting to feel less like a debriefing and more like an interrogation.

“…and you’re sure that’s all you remember?” Fury asked again.

You looked around the room again, each set of eyes seeming frustrated. Expecting more information than what you’ve provided for the last 2 hours. This was exhausting. A familiar headache was building behind your eyes, and you were beyond done with this.

When you didn’t answer right away, Tony asked another question. “They just let you walk away?” You could hear the blatant skepticism.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Tears were starting to fill your eyes. Damnit! This is not how you thought this would go, but you were feeling pressured, overwhelmed. “They tortured me! For weeks! The same damn thing. Over and over and over again! And I don’t know---maybe they thought I was DEAD!” You choked on a sob; tears streaming down your face now.

“Okay! That’s enough!” Bucky interjected, seemingly ending the questioning.

You quickly stood from your seat and rushed out of the room.

They all exchanged glances and Bucky lingered there silently for a moment before following you.

When he reached your room in the compound, he knocked, but you didn’t answer.

“Doll. It’s me. Can I come in?”

Again, you didn’t answer. He could hear your quiet cries. He tried the handle, but you had locked the door.

“Can you unlock the door, please?”

“Go away, Bucky,” you said, softly. You didn’t need to yell. You knew he could hear you.

“Come on. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” With that, he could hear you moving towards the door.

You angrily flung the door open, surprising Bucky and forcing him to take a step back. Your hair was disheveled, eyes red and still wet with tears.

“Do I look fucking okay to you!?!?” Bucky looked into your eyes, not knowing what to say.

“HYDRA imprisoned me, practically in our own fucking backyard and still no one came for me!”

“Y/N, I swear to you, we never stopped looking—”

“And as soon as I fight my way back here, you all grill me for information, like it was my fucking idea to get captured?”

“Doll, no one thinks this was—”

“I waited for—aagh—” the pain in your head suddenly flared. You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the skin between them. Your discomfort was evident.

“Hey, hey. What is it? What’s wrong?” Bucky’s worried eyes searched your face for answers.

You tried to recover, to push the pain aside.

“I waited for you—AAGH” the pain peaked. The same blistering heat threatening to end you, keeled you over.

With your shaking hands on your knees, you could feel Bucky move to your side. His arms wrapped around your waist to support you.

“Doll, what’s going on? Answer me. Please!”

But you couldn’t answer him. You were back on that stretcher. A prisoner, again. All you knew was the burning pain. Maybe this time, it would spare you the torment and claim your life.

“SOMEBODY HELP! I NEED HELP!” Bucky’s voice sounded far away.

The fire swirled in your skull and bile burned the back of your throat. You lurched forward, fell to your knees, and vomited on the floor. Everything was suddenly black, then nothing.

You awoke once more, alone, in the med bay. Well, not completely alone. You could hear talking, whispers. Just outside your door.

There’s something she’s not telling me. But I’m not going to try to force answers out of her. She’ll come to me when she’s ready. I’m just going to be her friend. That’s what she really needs right now.

Just a friend? You felt the blanket of disappointment weigh on you again. You were pulled from your thoughts when Bucky opened the door.

You kept your eyes on him as he carefully entered the room.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Huh?”

“Who were you talking to just now?” You tried not to sound like you were accusing him, but you didn’t like being talked about behind your back.

“I wasn’t talking to anyone,” Bucky shook his head, seeming to be genuinely confused.

Great. Now Bucky was lying to you. Some friend he’s trying to be. Even with him literally by your side, you were suddenly feeling very alone. No one trusted you. They think you’re hiding something. Truth be told, you are hiding something. You never told them about the injections, how the torture was actually “preparations”. You even left out the creepy lab guy coat because you were afraid. Afraid if they found out what really happened, that you were an experiment, they wouldn’t look at you the same way. You were afraid you would lose their hard-earned respect, your place on the team. You couldn’t risk it.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The pain? Passing out?” Bucky pressed, becoming serious. This felt like an interrogation again.

“Oh…it was just a headache,” you offered. Were you honestly expecting them not to ask?

“That’s bullshit. What happened to you? What did they do?” He seemed desperate and angry and you were becoming more and more guarded.

“I thought you weren’t going to force answers out of me.” You threw his words back in his face.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“What did you say just now?”

You were out of patience and just wanted to be alone. “Nothing. Please leave.”

Bucky stared at you, disbelieving, before turning his back on you and walking out the door.

A single tear slipped down your cheek. What the hell happened? Everything was fine. You were on a mission, business as usual, and then you were captured and tortured. You miraculously make it back home and suddenly, everyone is against you? You didn’t do anything wrong. Why is everyone acting like you’re at fault? Your thoughts are becoming louder in your head, circling frantically and building tension. You clench your teeth, trying to hold in a scream, but you can feel an energy building inside you. You pull your knees to your chest, struggling to contain it. Your clenched fists pound at your temples. You don’t know what’s happening; you feel out of control, about to spill over. Explode.

Suddenly, you lose control, letting out an ear-piercing scream, releasing a force you had never felt before. All at once, glass bottles and cabinets shatter, the reinforced windows in your room crack. Furniture is thrown chaotically. Everything is broken, in a frightening disarray, and you’re left sitting in the ruins of what once felt like a safe place.

You tried to catch your breath, eyes darting around the room, attempting to make sense of what just happened.

Oh, God. Oh, God. What did HYDRA do to you? What have you done? You needed to get out of there. Now. You jump to your feet, grab your clothes, and run. You shove past S.H.I.E.L.D. employees in the hallways, their thoughts intruding and overlapping with your own. It took you a moment to realize what it was, what you were doing: unintentionally hearing their thoughts. You have to get away, get out. It’s too loud. You’re still running when you hear more familiar voices, but these aren’t in your head.

You can hear Bucky, Steve and Sam talking about what they found at the base where you were kept. Empty syringes. Medical equipment. Partially encrypted files describing some kind of experiment. They know—how could they not? Have they known this whole time?

“I don’t know what they did to her. She won’t tell me, but…she’s different.” Bucky spoke quietly.

Different? Is that how he saw you now? Is that why he’d been acting so strangely since you got back?

“Look man,” Sam reasoned, “she’s been through a lot. It would be weird if she wasn’t acting differently.”

“Still, if they did do whatever this experiment is on her, we don’t know what the outcome is…If she’s still herself, or even on our side,” Steve added.

Your heart dropped. You already felt like they didn’t trust you, which was bad enough, but now they’re against you? You waited for Bucky to defend you. He knows you better than anyone, but his silence spoke volumes. You thought Bucky, of all people, would understand what you’d been through. That you would never turn on them. You really were all alone in this. You felt the fear and uncertainty pouring out of the room.

Then, an unfamiliar voice on the intercom startled you.

Code Gray- Med Room 4. Code Gray- Med Room 4.

Shit. That was your room. Then the alarm started blaring and you ran. When did you become the enemy? How did this happen? You’re not part of HYDRA. You’re the victim. You managed to get out of the compound without anyone else seeing you. But you had no idea where to go from there.

Bucky, Steve, and Sam rushed to your med room. They stood there in disbelief, taking in the scene. It looks like a bomb went off.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

“We’re not sure, sir. We, uh, heard a scream and when we got here, the room was empty,” a nurse answered.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked, growing impatient.

“We don’t know, I’m sorry,” the nurse responded before quicky leaving the room.

Steve and Sam exchanged looks. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair.

“Buck….”

“No.”

“We need to consider all the facts, here.”

“No, Steve! She wouldn’t do this. She’s not HYDRA.”

“Dude, she was missing for weeks and then just waltzed through the front door? That doesn’t seem odd to you?” Sam added.

“She didn’t waltz, Sam. She could barely walk, then she collapsed,” Bucky defended.

“So you think they just let her go? When the hell has HYDRA ever just let anybody go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Her story isn’t adding up, Buck.”

“They did something to her, she’s different. I just don’t know why she’d hiding it.”

“What do you mean? What aren’t you telling us?” Steve questioned.

“I think….whatever they did to her, worked. I thought it was a coincidence, at first, but then…this,” he motioned around the room. “I think she could hear what I was thinking earlier, and I think this is part of whatever she’s going through. I think she’s enhanced.”

They all looked around the room, letting Bucky’s theory sink it.

Steve broke the silence. “We need to find her before she hurts someone.”

You were walking against the cold wind and found yourself back at the shithole. You weren’t sure what you were doing there. Looking for answers, maybe? Waiting for them to find you? Like they were supposed to do. Before the injections, before they turned on you, before you lost control. What did they think of you now? You’re certain they must think you’re HYDRA. Fear and despair surged through you, and you started to lose control again. Objects that surrounded you started to rattle and lift into the air, crashing into walls.

You saw movement from the corner of your eye, emotions flaring even further. They had found you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, wetting the front of your sweatshirt. You had already lost everything. They may as well take you now and put you in whatever floating prison they have. They marked you as guilty the moment you walked back into the compound.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Bucky approached you slowly, motioning to Steve and Sam to hang back.

You slowly turned to face him. Finally seeing his face broke you, and you started to cry harder. The cot beside you rattled along with desks and shelves, lifting off the floor, quaking violently, erratically. Bucky held up his hands, gesturing to you that he meant you no harm. And you wanted nothing more than to believe him, to melt into his arms.

As your emotions ran wild with fear and anguish, the chaos around you swelled. You shook your head trying to empty it of the intrusive whispers. You were ready to surrender. You just wanted all this to be over, but when you looked past Bucky to see Steve and Sam in their full Avenger gear, a realization hit you. They were here to fight you. Bucky noticed the change in your demeanor. You felt the energy inside you intensifying again. The building began to tremble.

“Y/N. Y/N! Look at me! You’re going to be okay. We’re here to take you home.” Bucky tried to reason.

“No. NO! You’re here to hurt me. You don’t trust me, think I’m HYDRA!”

“That’s not true. We’re your friends. We want to help you,” Bucky insisted.

“Help me? That’s why you brought Captain America and Falcon with you?!”

You were angry now. If they wanted to take you, it would have to be by force. That’s what they wanted. You looked back over at Bucky and noticed the light reflecting off the tears that gathered in his eyes. You felt like you were about to detonate.

“Sweetheart, please,” Bucky pleaded with you; His hand stretched out towards you, beckoning you to take it.

The building shook even more violently with the release of your emotions. Once again, objects cracked and shattered all around you, but this time, the entire building threatened to come down on top of all of you.

“I can’t. I can’t control it….” You looked to Bucky, desperate for all this to end.

As dust and debris rained from the ceiling, you heard the order.

TAKE HER! NOW!

You whipped your head to the side, catching sight of Redwing; you hadn’t noticed it there before, but it was too late. Two darts struck your neck, delivering a powerful sedative. You swayed on your feet for only a moment before going down hard. All the objects flying around the room, uncontrollably, crashed to the ground at once. The building stood still once again. Whatever they hit you with was strong. You couldn’t move, but yet, you weren’t completely unconscious. You could faintly hear distorted commotion around you and your eyes felt heavy.

“Jesus Christ, Steve!” Bucky kneeled at your side to brush your hair from your face, wiping your tears in the process.

“I’m sorry, Buck. We had to. You heard her. She couldn’t control it.”

Bucky gently picked you up and held you close to his chest. You could tell he was walking, but your vision was starting to blur even more. Then you felt his breath on your ear as he whispered that you would be okay. You were safe now. They were going to fix this. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the darkness.

THREE WEEKS LATER

“I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore, Bucky.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“Well, I can’t leave. That is the definition of prisoner, right?”

“Bruce thinks he’s close to a cure. He just needs a little more time.”

“You’ve been saying that for 3 weeks.”

Bucky offered you a half-hearted smile, but it was tainted with regret.

You were beginning to doubt their ability to fix you. Where would they even begin? You were just the result of another fucked-up half-assed HYDRA experiment. They couldn’t cure you any more than they could cure Bucky or Steve of being super-soldiers. You know it. They know it. You just wish they’d stop blowing smoke up your ass.

Just then, Bruce appeared behind the reinforced glass doors, pressing his palm to the scanner to gain access to your room.

He approached your bed with the same half-hearted smile Bucky imparted.

“Hello, Y/N. How are you feeling today?” Bruce began, like he always did when starting his examinations.

“Fine. Normal. How’s the cure coming along?”

He hesitated for a moment, ignoring your question before continuing with his own.

“Any more headaches?”

“No. Not really.”

“Good, good. That’s good.” More hesitation.

“Just spit it out, Bruce.”

“Well, uh..” he fiddled with his clipboard, pretending to review his findings. “We did some genetic profiling and it looks like the experiment has altered your DNA in ways we’ve never seen before. Your brain scans are phenomenal.”

“That’s not exactly comforting….” You knew where this was going, even though you didn’t completely understand the science of it all.

“What does that mean?” Bucky leaned forward in his seat, prompting Dr. Banner to elaborate.

“Well, I’m afraid it means we can’t cure you.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair; the atmosphere in the room deflated. He didn’t even look at you. You knew this was coming but hearing it out loud and seeing Bucky’s dejected reaction only solidified your fears. There is no hope.

Dr. Banner continued, “The good news is that you seem to be adapting and stabilizing well.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You didn’t want to hear anything else. You weren’t even listening. All you can think about is how you’re no longer an Avenger and how Bucky won’t even look at you now. You lost him; your best friend, maybe more. Where do you go from here?

“I just have a few more questions for you,” Dr. Banner began again, “Are you still able to hear the thoughts of others?”

“Yes. But I can mostly block it out. It’s gotten easier.”

Dr. Banner smiled. “And there haven’t been any more incidents….” He held up his pen. “Can you move this towards you, please?”

You looked up from your lap and focused on the pen, gently floating it above the bed until it reached your grasp.

“Amazing…”

You wished Dr. Banner would be a little less enthusiastic. Your life, as you know it, is over and you’re not in the mood for this.

“Okay. I’m releasing you from my care.”

“Wait. What? When?” You stared at him in awe. Is he joking?

“Right now.” He gathered his notes and left the room, door unlocked.

You felt Bucky grasp your hand. His smile was bright as he waited for your thoughts to catch up.

“Come on. We have a mission,” he coaxed.

“I-I don’t understand,” you hesitated. “I didn’t think you wanted---I didn’t think anyone trusted me.”

“Sweetheart, we do trust you…and I’ll always want you. No matter what.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter. “We found the shitbags that took you…you ready to kick some ass?”

Your eyes lit up with excitement and determination. “I was born ready.”

#whump #avengers #bucky barnes #reader whump #bucky x y/n #female reader #reader insert #avenger reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #captain america #winter soldier #marvel mcu #bucky barnes x reader #kidnapping tw #experimentation #falcon

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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

Text

A Mess || Part 7

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here starting with this series since it was the most popular!

A/N: The long awaited seventh part :)

Summary: After escaping the treehouse, you and Daryl must find food, water, and rest in the forest on your way to complete the mission Rick had sent you on in the first place. You also almost die.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, TWD typical violence, Daryl being effortlessly attractive

You laid silently on the wooden flooring, out of site of the hungry beasts below. Daryl sat against a wall, sharpening a knife. Whoever built this thing left no form of entertainment or even comfort. Just some random tools and scrap wood. Guess they never got a chance to actually use their treehouse.

"I'm bored." You complained.

"Quiet." He whispered. You sighed.

"I'm bored." You whispered. He sighed.

"Can't do nothin' about that."

"Wanna play twenty-one questions?" You asked.

"Sure." He said, setting the knife down. "I'll start. What would it take for you to shut up?" He asked. You shot him a glare. He smirked and went back to sharpening his knife.

"You'd be the worst person to be stranded on an island with." You grumbled.

"Nah. I'll keep us fed."

"I'd rather die of starvation than boredom."

"Might get your wish. Food'll be out by tomorrow." He sighed. It had been two days. Two fucking days.

"Water?' You asked.

"Out."

"Fuck." You sighed. "Might as well just jump down and end it."

"How many bullets ya got?"

"Like, six."

"Got thirteen bolts and nine rounds."

"So thirteen shots, thirteen bullets. How many are down there?" You asked.

"More than twenty-six." He said.

"What if we distracted them somehow?" You suggested.

"How?"

"I don't know. Don't you have a lighter sir-smokes-a-lot?"

He nodded.

"So, we light a bolt or two on fire and you shoot it at a tree far away."

"Might not work." He warned.

"But it might, and that's better than nothing." You countered.

"Okay." He nodded. "We wait 'til dark. It'll be our best bet."

----

That night he dropped the rope ladder down and the two of you climbed about halfway down. Just enough that you could leap down without injury. Daryl shot two flaming arrows at two different trees in opposing directions. To your surprise they actually drew a decent chunk of the walkers away, but not all of them. You knew it wouldn't work for long, so your window was short.

With a nod, you both lept down to the ground with knives in hand, taking down the three or four walkers that were he closest to you. Then, you ran. You ran as fast as you could in the pitch back, relying on the sound of his own footsteps ahead of you to guide you.

By the time it was safe enough to slow down, you chest was on fire and all you could do was hunch over and pant for air. Thankfully you two had lost the walkers a ways back, but unfortunately now you had no idea where you were. Just trees and more trees shrouded in darkness.

"I think if we keep goin' this way there's a town. Can follow that road due north and we'll find where we were headed." Daryl finally announced, still short of breath.

"Should we just go back?" You asked, finally standing up straight. "To the prison, I mean? We've been gone for days, now. They're probably worried."

"Nah." He declined. "Been gone this long, we're goin' back with what we left for in the first damn place.

----

By daylight, your feet were blistered and sore and you hadn't stopped walking. The plan was to find some place in town to rest, but it was a long journey. Neither of you had spoken a word. Exhaustion and hunger were too overbearing.

"Can't you like... Shoot something so we can eat?" You whined. "I'm thirsty. And hungry. And tired. And--"

"And you say I'd be the worst person to be stranded with." He grumbled.

"Weren't you the one that said you'd keep us fed on a deserted island?" You shot back.

"Yeah, right after I asked what it'd take for you to shut the hell up."

"Food. That's what it would take." You told him. He sighed.

"Alright. Start a fire. I'll be back with some grub." He relented, offering you his zippo. You didn't protest. You got straight to work throwing twigs and dry leaves into a small pit you dug and ignited them with his lighter. It wasn't cold, so you didn't stay too close. It was hot enough without the extra heat. You did, however, hear a very faint trickling sound. Could it be? Water? Finally?

You immediately followed the noise. As it grew closer you got excited. You might actually have had something to reward Daryl for finding you food.

You stopped in your tracks. It definitely wasn't a glistening stream of cool clear water. No, in fact, it was just Daryl, taking a piss on a tree.

"Do ya mind? Some privacy would be nice." He complained. You sighed and did a 180, trying to shake the image out of your mind.

"Sorry." You mumbled. "When I heard the trickling I thought there was a little stream or something over here."

You turned back to him when you heard a zip.

"Could probably drink that." He shrugged. Your jaw gaped.

"Ew!" You shrilled.

"How ya think I survived eight days on my own in the woods when I was a kid?" He smirked. He was just messing with you, but he had no intentions of admitting that. Your expression was too priceless.

"Say less." You held your hand up. "I'll wait for you by the fire."

With that, you were on your way. Back by the fire, you sat and sharpened some thin sticks to keep yourself busy. They'd make nice skewers for the meat if he could find any game.

It was probably an hour or two until he made it back, and not only had you sharpened a lot of sticks, but you also had created a flimsy perimeter out of fallen branches and other forest debris. You figured if nothing else, it would at least trip a walker and let you know they were coming.

"Got a raccoon." He said. It was already skinned, he just needed to skewer the meat, which you helped him with. It had a strange aroma as it cooked. You were never a fan of rodents or the like.

However, the full feeling after scarfing down its delicious flesh made all of your complaints go out the window. As you licked each charred stick skewer clean of the grease, you moaned. "Thank you." You said. "I was so hungry."

"Mm." He grunted with a nod. "Say we take turns gettin' some shuteye an' head out in a few hours."

"I'll take first watch." You offered.

"Nah. Need to tune up my bow. You rest." He declined. You shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

You weren't going to argue. You were exhausted.

----

When Daryl opened his eyes, you were still sound asleep just a few feet away. It was pitch black outside. The fire had been out for a while. He remembered putting it out himself. There was no need for it after the meat was cooked and the remnants of the animal were burned to ash. He wiped his eyes and pushed his aching body up into a sitting position. How could he have fallen asleep? He was meant to keep watch. Anything could have happened to either of you while you were both out. He silently scolded himself.

His throat was dry and scratchy. He really needed to find some water for the two of you. Another day like that and you'd both be dead for sure. He sighed and moved over to you. He crouched down beside you, reaching to shake you awake, but something stopped him. You looked so peaceful, but you also looked dry. Your lips were cracked and flaky, and had it not been so dark he would have seen how dry the skin on your face looked.

"(Y/N)." He whispered, laying a hand on your arm to gently shake you awake. You didn't budge. "(Y/N), c'mon. We gotta get movin', we need to find some water."

"Hmph." You made a little puty noise as you rolled away from him. Had he not been so damn thirsty, he would have laughed.

"We can't survive like this much longer." He continued in a hushed rasp. "Get up."

"Tired." You mumbled.

"I said get the hell up." He demanded.

"No."

"Fine then. Stay here and die." He huffed, standing to his feet and gathering both of your things before he stormed away. He made sure his footsteps were loud so you could hear him walk away, hoping you'd feel the pressure and get up. He stopped when he realized you had no intentions of doing so. With frustration, he threw his head back and turned around. "C'mon. I ain't tellin' ya again."

Nothing. Not a peep, not a shuffle, not a damn thing. He groaned.

"You're a fuckin' child, ya know that?" He grumbled as he marched over to you and scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You whined. You slapped at his back.

"Quit your bitchin'." He scolded.

"Fine. I'll just sleep like this." You reasoned, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the feeling of his shoulder digging into your stomach.

"Like hell you are." He said as he dropped you down on your feet. "I got your shit. Now walk."

"It's dangerous to travel at night." You pointed out.

"It's more dangerous to die of thirst." He argued.

"Not as dangerous as disturbing a woman's beauty rest." You crossed your arms.

"Beauty rest." He scoffed. "You don't need any. Now walk." He demanded, pointing his finger in the direction he wanted to go.

"Fine, but only 'cause you asked so nicely." You gave in.

Besides your bickering, the night was relatively quiet, save for the crickets and frogs and rustling branches. After a little while, Daryl handed you your things, growing tired of carrying them for you. After another while, he stopped you, holding his hand out in front of you.

"Ya hear that?" He whispered. You perked up your ears, listening intently. It took a few seconds but finally you heard it, a soft white noise that you could only assume was; "Water!" You gasped.

"Mm." He nodded. "C'mon."

You followed after him, creeping silently over the dead foliage of the forest floor. Just a few yards away you stumbled across a small creek.

"Do we have anything to boil water?" You asked.

"Nah." He shook his head, holding an empty plastic jug in the water as it flowed by. "Just have to take our chances with it."

You flipped his zippo that you were still holding onto open and held it down to the creek.

"Looks clear at least." You observed. Even in the small firelight you could see clearly to the bottom of the shallow stream.

"Here." He offered you the first sip. Well, not really a sip. More like a gulp, or two, or ten. You wiped your mouth as you handed it back to him. He drank his own share before dunking the jug back into the stream and letting it fill all the way. When it filled up, he screwed the lid on and you both stood up. You gave his lighter back, before you forgot, and the two of you set off again with full bellies, a jug of water, and some rest under your belt.

----

"Sure we could one of these cars runnin'." Daryl said. It was just past daybreak now. You finally found the town that was supposed to lead you to the town you needed to be in. The two of you were in a small neighborhood with cars lined up and down the streets.

"I'll keep an eye out." You told him. He nodded and got to work checking out the vehicles.

As far as walkers go, the town wasn't too bad off. A few stragglers here and there, but nothing seemed particularly overrun. It was pretty small and rural, though, so that was no surprise.

You took down a lone walker that trudged toward you and turned your attention back to Daryl to check in. He may have been dirty and smelly after four days on the run, but damn he did look good.

His tan arms glistened in the sunlight with a sweaty sheen. His hair stuck to his forehead tightly and his muscles flexed and contorted under his skin as he yanked car doors open and leaned in the driver's side doors to try to crank them up.

"Shit!" You hissed as you fell to the ground. A walker had snuck up on you in your lusty stupor, falling on top of you as you struggled against the mangled thing. "Asshole!" You insulted the corpse as you struggled to reach for the knife you dropped on your way to the ground. It was too far, though, and if you shifted at all the walker's mouth would surely make contact with your face.

A whistle shot over you and an arrow impacted the top of the walker's skull. It went limp on top of you. You gagged at the feeling of its dry rotten flesh against your chest. Daryl appeared over you and yanked the body off yours, pulling his arrow out of its head.

"The hell were ya doin'? Just one took ya down?" He asked as he held a hand out. You accepted it and he pulled you to your feet effortlessly.

"Uh, I was just -- Uh, yeah. Didn't hear it." You stuttered.

"Pay attention." He scolded you.

"Right. Won't happen again." You nodded. You definitely wouldn't be admitting that you almost lost your life just to admire his sweaty arms.

"C'mon. These cars are dead. Let's move down the street a bit an' see if we got better luck." He instructed.

Masterlist || Taglist

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #twd daryl #daryl twd #18+ content

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quiddie · 2 years

Text

Okay, I see a lot of people talking about Laerryn’s work in terms of the spell Plane Shift. Now I know that’s ultimately my fault because of how I spoke about the remains of the solar bow, but that isn’t what she’s attempting.

Now let me say all this with the grain of salt that I’m not trying to remove all blame from LCS - I know who she is and what I built into her and what she’s capable of and willing to do - but I do think it’s inaccurate to call her uncaring (in terms of the citizens of Avalir) and despotic in her single-mindedness.

First, the Astral Leywright. Simply put, it builds a new leyline road through other planes. Now, Laerryn runs and maintains the engines & batteries, but she doesn’t steer the city. That’s Helmswoman Akami Rowe’s job. That’s the Navigator’s Guild’s choice. *That* is why LCS thinks of it as a gift to the city and to history - it’s an opportunity, not an obligation (or worse, a coercion like Plane Shift would be.) Yes, she’s taken a lion’s share of the energy stored for this Replenishment - but just this once (and what are 7 years to an elf, really?) and the thing she gives back is a new leyline that goes not North or East or South but OUT. (And the solar bow’s planar attunement was primarily to help the AL know the directionality of building a leyline in a new axis.) And Avalir could (not MUST) use it. Anyone can use it.

And sure, maybe the Septarion and the citizens will be too confused or scared to use it at first but that’s fine - the point wasn’t that we have to go NOW, only that this was her one chance to make the leyline at ALL (or at least until the next apogee solstice). So her thought is that the city doesn’t have to understand right now, but eventually they’ll get it and history will remember her fondly for making the road to the next big discoveries a little easier.

Keep in mind, Laerryn is one of the smartest people in the city (e1 “often the most cerebral”) that took a vital but understated job (e1 “no one understands exactly what you do to ask you for anything”) with no laurels attached (e2 her envy when walking through the Magisterium and seeing the resources allocated on their behalf vs. the Court of Workings) so if she wanted glory she could just pick a different job and immediately get the praise her talents would garner. Instead, she dedicated her life to quietly and dutifully protecting the Heart of Avalir, and expanding on the city’s mission statement (travel the leylines collecting knowledge and magic to share with the world).

With all that said, please continue raging at Laerryn’s choices because that’s fun and good and fine and honestly I love watching it. I just wanted to clear up that one fuzzy area.

#critical role #exandria unlimited #critical role spoilers #exu #cr spoilers #exu spoilers #exu calamity #laerryn coramar seelie #don’t get me wrong #she’s ambitious as fuck #but she thinks she’s doing it for the people of avalir #and the future of Exandria #and isn’t that so much worse #now that you see where it led and what she’s done #she broke the world for them. ALL OF THEM.#(but mostly for him)#and she’d do it again #because she still thinks she could win #she doesn’t know what kind of story she’s in

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oathkeeperoxas · 4 months

Note

Hello, my friend! 44 or 71 for Icemav, if you're still warming up? <3<3<3

ELWEN yesssss going wild for this one. Forehead press my number 1, you will always be famous to me

71. lingering forehead against forehead, consumed by each other and barely having enough strength to breathe

The call comes at 6:43pm.

Ice lets it ring for three trills, still in that limbo of not knowing. Dead, or not dead? And the less important question of if the mission was a success or not. These two things are not related to each other. A successful mission could still mean a dead pilot. If that's the case, then he's already living in a world without Maverick Mitchell. If that's the case, then he has five more seconds of not knowing about it, before the knowledge sinks its teeth into him, inescapable.

He picks the phone up. He's has a lifetime of doing the hard work, making the terrible choices that no one else wants to make. He can't avoid this forever, and he wouldn't want to, so he puts the phone to his ear and listens, and when he puts it down he has to lean his elbows onto his desk, face in his hands. Gut swooping like he's just pulled an emergency barrel roll and hadn't had the chance to prepare for it. Sick, like he's grown so used to over his treatment, sick, like he's really going to throw up. But he's had a lot of practice with this too, so he swallows it all down neatly enough. There's still work to do, maybe more work, now that they'll have to switch to soothing Russia's ruffled feathers at having their sovereignty impinged upon. Mav and Bradley won't be back in the country for another day at least. He has plenty to do to fill the time until then.

The seconds tick past, and the minutes dribble through his fingers, and the hour hand on his watch inevitably ticks forward. He gets into a shouting match with the SECDEF and is called into conference with the JCS and watches as updates on the pilots who flew the mission trickle into his inbox. Mav's medical report is last, which means he only nibbles on dinner, a bad habit that Mav would scold him for. Ice would take it, would take any words from him, as long as he he here to speak them.

He works through the night and gets to sleep somewhere about quarter to five, and is back at his computer before ten. Mav's report has come in, and while it doesn't look great, it's not all bad news. He's walking under his own power, and while injured, apparently isn't in too much pain. Ice holds his own reservations about that. Mav's never enjoyed telling an authority figure everything. Ice will get the truth out of him when they see each other next.

All the pilots are in flight back to North Island, which means they're out of contact even if Ice wanted to reach out, which he doesn't. This isn't the first time that Mav has been on a mission and Ice has been able to do nothing but wait for him to come home. He prefers to wait to see Mav in person before they talk to each other. It's better that way.

He fends off orders to fly to Washington, at least delaying until tomorrow or the day after, and makes up for it by sitting on conferences all afternoon while typing away furiously at the dozens of emails that have landed in his inbox. Everything is a flurry of activity, everything needs his attention now, and yet he puts everything aside when he sees that the transport has landed at North Island, and that all the pilots have been taken for debriefing, except for the two who spent time on the ground, who have been shuttled to the base hospital. Ice packs up his laptop and notifies his driver, and is on the road immediately.

He's not in uniform, so manages to fly mostly under the radar until he hits the two Marines standing guard outside Mav's hospital room, who only give way when they recognise him. Ice bids them to wait outside, and closes the door behind him when he enters. There's a curtain that's hiding most of Mav from his sight; the only part of him that Ice can see are his feet, which are bare. His toes are poking out from the side of the blanket that Mav has thrown over him, and Ice is hit with a wave of emotion that's as irrational as it is powerful -- Mav's feet are uninjured. His toes are okay. He can see that. It makes it hard to breathe, and he steadies himself before stepping forward, not wanting to cough and worry his partner. This is not a moment for Mav to be worried about Ice.

"Did you bring me some real clothes?" Mav grumbles. "I'm not wearing this. This is an attack on decency. I'm fine. I don't need to be here. Who do I have to speak to, to go home?"

Ice closes his eyes and musters himself after that volley. Then he moves forward under full sail, to stand at the end of Mav's bed and lay a hand on his ankle.

"I didn't bring you any clothes," Ice rumbles, voice hoarse from all the speaking he's been putting it through today. "And you can come home when the doctors say you can leave."

"Ice," Mav says, eyes wide, and Ice can't stay away from him anymore. Mav is already struggling to sit up, and Ice sits on the bed and ropes his arms around him, lashing them together. Mav makes a low sound, torn somewhere from deep in his chest, and presses their heads against each other. Ice tilts them so their foreheads are together, noses and mouths close, breathing the same air. "Ice," Mav repeats, desperate, and Ice wants to squeeze him and never let him go for scaring Ice so badly, for coming to him in the first place and asking to do this, for daring to get shot down and for making Ice receive the news that he's dead, only to be told that he'd pulled off the impossible--

Ice presses a palm to Mav's neck to feel his pulse, and they're both gasping against each other, clinging like they're at sea and the other is their lifeboat. Like lovers to be parted on the morrow. Like they'll never get another day quite like this one.

"You scared the shit out of me," Ice manages, and Mav barks a laugh through his tears.

"You're telling me," Mav manages, cupping a hand on Ice's cheek and wiping away the wetness under his eyes. "I was pretty scared myself."

"The kid?" Ice asks.

"He's better than me. Young bones, and all that."

Ice can hardly breathe. He pulls away to clear his throat, and then comes back to lay his head on Mav's shoulder and press his face into Mav's throat. Mav's hand rests on the back of his neck. There's still so much to do. Ice can feel the weight of his emails piling up in his inbox. But he can put off making the hard decisions for an hour. He can let himself be human for an hour. Mav's arms have the power to protect him. He hasn't lost that privilege. He hasn't lost Mav.

"If you think I'm letting you do anything like that ever again--"

Mav laughs. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I used that one favour up. Won't happen again. We're even now -- how about we don't do that to each other again, yeah?"

It's good he's sitting down. The dizzying relief would have forced him to anyway. He lays a kiss over Mav's pulse.

"I don't think cancer and flying into a deathtrap are particularly equivalent," Ice grits out. "But I'm willing to overlook that if you are."

Mav cradles him gently, laying kisses against his crown. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Ice sighs and sits up. "Are you okay?" he asks. "I know you've been lying to try and get out of here faster."

Mav sniffs, pretending to be offended. "They're not falling for it," he says plaintively.

"Good. Start telling them how you really feel. I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon."

"Yeah?" Mav asks, looking up at him.

"Yeah," Ice says softly. "Gotta keep an eye on my troublemakers."

Mav's eyes crinkle into his familiar smile, and Ice is home, home, home.

A hundred different kisses prompt list

#cyclone is keeping everyone inside today so writing time #icemav #iceman #maverick #top gun #tg #mine #my writing #forehead to forehead really be my number 1 weakness and yes i blame robin hobb for it

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beansricejc · 9 months

Text

John Wick x F!Reader: Fake It

summary: AU, in a post apocalyptic world, John has assigned himself a daunting task. he buys you off of a group of raiders, and you don’t necessarily have a choice when he has you help with his mission. in fact, it’s either your help, or his wrath. 5382 words.

warnings: unprotected piv, NONcon, fuck or die, breeding k!nk, creampie, cursing, threats of violence, firearms, human trafficking, forced breeding, kidnapping. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat! Minors DNI. not proofread!

author’s note: here’s to my darkest yet, if you like this one, please support me by liking and reblogging, Ty!

The infection spread efficiently and ruthlessly. Originating at a scientific testing facility in Toronto, it didn’t take very long for the world to go to shit. Zombies made life a hell of a lot worse for everyone on the planet.

And 5 years later, the population declined by 70 percent. Everyone surviving now was either in some sort of encampment, a survivor in the wasteland, or, in John’s case, in a repopulation center.

About fifty miles north of Rock Springs, Wyoming, is a fortification built by John and as the group of men that all had the same goal.

Survive.

Soon enough, they made a name for themselves after trading with raiders who would snatch up female survivors. John was picky. They needed to be healthy, with good genetics, and the ability to carry a child. Just because you had a pussy didn’t just mean free access to the compound, there were standards.

So when a truck full of raiders pulled up to the large gates of John’s fortress and dragged you out of it, John’s immediately intrigued. You’re kicking and screaming into the duct tape gag over your lips, definitely not making it easy for the three burly men to hoist you over for John to inspect you.

Your eyes widen at the middle aged man with long hair, it’s slicked back in a ponytail and he’s got a full beard. He honestly reminds you of those vinyl hipsters before the infection, but meaner.

His sharp brown eyes scan your body, he likes what he sees. Of course you don’t know this, no one does, for John is a master at hiding his emotions.

“She’ll do.” John states plainly, standing up straight and facing the raiders. ‘She’ll do’ was the understatement of the year, he was absolutely attracted to you. Of course he can’t let that show, otherwise the raiders will demand more items to trade you for.

“100 rounds of 9 millimeter ammunition, and four medical packs. I’ll even throw in three gallons of gasoline.” John offers, the raiders immediately grunt in agreement, the leader shaking John’s hand to seal the deal.

You’re still kicking and struggling against your restraints, refusing to be auctioned off like a damn cow. Oh if only you knew what you were in for.

In reality, John has never used his own sperm for his repopulation project. It’s only been his own men, which he has plenty of. His fortification’s ratio of women to men is 1:15, which just goes to show how rare females are in the apocalypse. Women are a hot commodity, and no amount of feminist waves are going to stop that. Men will be men, thirsting over the opposite sex, and once they lay their eyes on one? They’ll stop at nothing to get a piece.

Revolting to think about but it’s just the truth. It is the end of the world after all.

“Take her to my quarters. Now.” John orders his group of men, which two of them scoop you up from the dirt road as you squirm and scream into your gag. John sees your futile determination, and it lights a fire within him.

If he’s not careful, he’s going to get hard in front of everyone at the gate.

John cleared his throat and walked ahead, trying to think of quite literally anything else as he attempted to get his mind off of you, and hearing your muffled pleas for mercy don’t help him in the slightest. A tingle trickles down his long spine, and the little hairs on his arm rise as goosebumps begin to form, just from hearing your voice.

“Shit.” He murmured to himself, as he books it to the nearest building, he needs to distract himself quickly.

John’s men heave you into his personal cabin, plopping you down on the comfy vintage looking couch in the corner. You grunt and the men scurry out of the cabin. They know better than to look at John’s new prize.

Little do any of them know, you’re a fighter. Surviving in the wasteland alone is an impressive feat. A feat you have only overcome because you’re tough as hell. You can hunt, scavenge, shoot, stab, whatever it takes to survive, you can do it. The only reason why you’re here in the first place is because 5 grimy raiders jumped you while you were resting in an abandoned building. You felt pathetic, now in the predicament of a lifetime.

There were a few options.

You knew this fancy trick where you could dislocate your own shoulder blades in order to force your arms to be in front of you instead of being bound from behind. Painful but quick, then you could take your gag off and then thrust your arms into your own torso. The fast motion and force would tear the tape from your hands.

But then there were all of the men outside. There was about, what? 30, 40 men from what you could count when the two guards brought you inside. There were women too, not very many though, and for some odd reason, they were all pregnant.

Noticeably so.

You were good at killing, but 40 all at once? You didn’t have a chance in hell.

So, either a suicide mission, or you could wait it out and see what the hell was going on.

You decide on the latter.

Not to mention, those raiders stole all of the equipment and weapons that you had. So that fucking sucks.

Waiting it out sucks too. You may or may not have dozed off on the old comfy couch, your taped face resting against the floral patterned fabric while you rested. Awoken only by the soft sound of the wooden door creaking open, you decided to fake being asleep. Maybe it would give some sort of insight on what the hell was going to happen to you.

John’s boots squeak over the wooden flooring, he groans and immediately goes for the large glass bottle that was sealed underneath the small sink in his cabin.

John’s living space is very nice compared to the other residents in his compound. It’s about 750 square feet of a cabin that looks like it’s straight from the 70s. The small home is of course run on a solar powered generator, providing semi luxury living in the apocalypse.

You noticed this when you were scanning the place for any noticeable weapons to use to your advantage. Unfortunately there wasn’t much.

Nothing out in the open anyway. You continue to fake sleep, laying down on the couch with your pretty eyes closed.

John grunts as he flips through a stack of papers, figuring you would be asleep when he arrived. He knows you’ve been tied up in here for about three hours. The man takes a few steps over towards the couch, looking over it and staring at your lying figure. His heart rate goes up by a few beats.

“Gorgeous, might have to keep you for myself.” John mumbles under his breath, you catch the comment.

John looks at his papers, scribbling a few words down. While he looks at your sleeping face, he debates on whether to wake you up or not. He does. John’s large and calloused hand runs through your hair for a moment, and now you can’t help but open your eyes. This gives you a good time to study your captor’s facial features, he’s towering over you at the moment.

His back bends over and his hand that rubbed your head is now ripping the duct tape off of your mouth as if it were a bandaid. Yelping, you glare at him and clench your jaw.

“Hey shithead, that fucking hurt!” You cough out, gritting your teeth. His stoic expression seemed to lighten for a whole three seconds before he jotted something down on that stack of papers, before sitting in a recliner that was against a wall.

His jeans rub against the leather of the seat, and his brown eyes never leave you, paying even more attention when you manage to wriggle your way up into somewhat of a seated position.

“You’re probably wondering what you’re doing here.” John’s voice is gravelly, and he even seems a bit awkward. “I’m sorry, I typically don’t do anything with intake. Made an exception this time.”

You frown, more confused than anything.

John’s hands fumble with the stack of papers that’s in his hands, as he goes over a few pages before looking up at you again.

“Can I start with your name?”

Blinking a few times, it wasn’t what you were expecting. You could tell him a lie but for some reason your conscious is screaming at you to tell the truth.

So you do, your first name falls from your lips as if you’re talking to a trusted peer. Last names don’t matter anymore in the apocalypse, it’s just one of those things that fell off of the importance scale.

John hums out loud, nodding as he writes your name down, crossing his legs.

“Age?”

You tell him the truth. His bottom lip sticks out a bit and he nodded, jotting that down as well.

“Still have some time left.” John breathes out, so softly that you can’t even hear him.

“Marital status?”

You frown again.

“Why does it matter?” you asked, looking at John with this dumbfounded expression. He sighs.

“Just, whatever it was before the infection.” John elaborates. Still. It was quite irrelevant. At least to you.

“Engaged.” You tell him, honesty is the best policy here. “Died a few years ago.”

John paused before writing anything down.

“Sorry to hear that.” John apologizes, his expression is quite somber, as if he’s recalling bad memories. His canine tooth is digging into his tongue. “Any allergies?”

This strange interrogation went on for about 25 minutes, with answers you provided and small talk in between. You don’t know why but you’re starting to feel a bit more comfortable around him.

“Let me get to the chase.” John sighed, he had told you his name in the middle of your conversation, and it’s been nice having a name to put next to his face. It was so simple and so fitting. John.

“You have two options. Both are similar but one is much nicer than the other.” John tells you, as the hairs on your neck stand up. Your fingers twitch from behind, it’s hard to contain your anxiousness when you’re bound.

“You’re a woman that’s in excellent health, a diamond in the rough, really. Your age is decent for it as well.” John mentions. “You’re also such a sight for sore eyes. I haven’t even seen anyone come in here that was close to looking like you.” He sighs.

Silence fills the room as we stare at each other.

“Our goal at my compound is to do our best to repopulate the country, and to inspire other groups to do as we do.” He explains further. “We have an extensive human breeding program in our compound. It’s a requirement for the females that are brought here to participate.”

During his entire ramble his dark eyes have been ogling your legs and hips.

“So, here are your options.” He starts.

You can’t even fucking believe what you’re hearing right now. The pure shock is causing a ringing in your ears, and you barely pick up what he’s telling you next. John stands from his recliner and takes a few steps towards you.

“I’ll assign you to a random member of our community. You’ll live with him, and he’ll be attempting to conceive with you, my men aren’t known really for being all too kind or gentle.” John says, clasping his hands in front of him.

Your heart is racing and John notices the panic running through your body.

“If they don’t take a liking to you after you reach conception, we’ll just send you to live with the other women on the other side of the fortress.” John shrugs, tapping his boot restlessly on the cabin floor. “Or…” his large hand grabs your chin and lifts it to force you to look up at him.

His rough feeling thumb rolls over your bottom lip, the gears in his head turning while he takes a deep breath. “I can keep you for myself.”

John’s taking in every aspect of your body language and face, he’s noticing the way you are just barely trembling under his touch. He’s really hoping you don’t notice his cock twitch in his pants. He’s gotta get ahold of himself, honestly, he’s a grown man. Why are you making him feel like a horny teenager all over again?

You’re going over the options in your head, while still attempting to find anything to bash John over the head with. But your arms are still bound behind your back. As it stands, you’re completely at the mercy of the long haired man who’s practically drooling over you.

Your pretty eyes blink up at him as your mind races, your heart thumps, it feels like you might even pass out. Was this even real? This had to be a nightmare, right?! Right. There was absolutely no way you were traded for some bullets, gasoline, and a first aid kit and dragged into a human breeding camp, right? All you had to do was wake up.

Wake up. Come on.

Fucking wake up.

Except it was all too real, proven to you by the lingering sting on your mouth from the ripped duct tape. Your lip was even bleeding a bit still from the injury.

Shit.

“I wanna show you how good I am.” John interrupts your rampant train of thought, and snaps you back into your hell hole of a reality. His hand clenches a bit harder against your face, thumb shoving inside of your mouth once you open it to respond to him. This move gives you no time to even create words, instead it gives off a risqué image. An image John is enjoying purely for himself, of his large thumb in between your pretty pink lips. John grunts.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” John asks rhetorically. “God you’re stunning, your parents really blessed you with good genetics.”

You have no idea what the hell you should do, so you do what you think would be best in this scenario.

You suck his thumb. The act in itself is suggestive, but with your pretty eyes batting up at him, your lips around his finger, and a slight bob of your head.

You have John in a frenzy. There’s a bead of sweat that even rolls down the back of his neck, as his breath hitches to the sight of you taking his finger into your lips.

“We could make such good looking children.” John groans at the sight of you. “Please, just, oh god.” His eyes roll to the back of his head. John pulls his thumb from your mouth as he catches his breath.

He’s been anticipating finding the right woman to come along. Delusional as he currently is, he thinks he’s been waiting all of these years just to meet you. It has to be fate, right? You’re just so perfect to him.

“Just, ugh, fuck it.” John growls, his right hand latched onto your throat as he forcibly kissed your dry lips. You gasp in surprise, as his grip on your throat becomes tighter.

“Wa-wait!” you choke out, it doesn’t stop him. He easily grabs your body and brings it to his bed, tossing you onto the mattress. You sit up quickly, but then hear a click, the feeling of cold metal pressing against your head makes you freeze.

Looking up, John’s smiling down at you, his heart fluttering at the mere sight of you. He’s holding a pistol straight to your temple, clicking his tongue at you while your pretty eyes widen at the sudden tension change.

“No waiting, sweetpea.” John grumbles as you notice the handgun safety is off. Shit. “You’re gonna cooperate. I’m not going to let you make that choice, there’s no way in hell I’m letting my men breed you.”

The gun is still being pressed against your skull as he grabs a book from his bedside table, he flips through a few pages and reads the contents over. You’re not able to see what he’s reading since you don’t dare make any sudden movements. His eyes are still on the book while he asks you a question.

“When did you last menstruate?”

You’re still in shock from everything he’s said so far, and this certainly didn’t help.

“Uh, what?” you can’t even comprehend the fact that he asked you such a personal question.

John pressed the gun to your head harder. “Answer me!” he yelled, frustrated at your stalling. John’s deep and frightening voice bellows off of the wooden walls of his cabin, making you wince.

“I think like, 2 and a half weeks ago?” you shakily reply, it feels like you’re about to pass out from the chaotic situation at hand.

He hums affirmatively and grabs a knife, flicking it open.

“No, no please! Please I-“

He goes to cut the tape off from your wrists, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into the trash nearby. John chuckles at your sudden fear as he continues to hold the gun to your head.

“I haven’t made love to anyone since my wife died.” John croaked out, his eyes looking a little empty and off to the distance as he spoke. He shakes the firearm a bit to intimidate you a bit. As if you’re not already. There’s a gentle smile that plays on his lips and a crazed glint in his brown eyes.

“I never partook in the repopulation process, I just could never see myself making love to any of those other women.” He informs you. “But, you? You’re just,” he takes a sharp inhale and bites his lip. “I think I can manage to be passionate with you.” John whispers, rubbing the back of his neck and nodding to himself. “You're going to reciprocate. Like we’ve known each other for years. And you’re going to do a good job, if not,” he taps the barrel of the gun against your head. You’re trembling beneath him.

“Think you can do that for me?” John asks, looking back at his book and flipping through some pages.

You reluctantly nod, battling the urge to scream and fight for your life. He gives you that same deranged but soft smile, sighing in relief as if he was expecting you to say no, as if there wasn’t the threat of death in the air.

“By the way,” he sighs. “My name’s John.”

You nod awkwardly, as he looks over his book for a few more moments.

“The book says that missionary is the position that has the most success in conceiving.” John mentions, as the reality sets in. This is actually happening. You feel like your world is collapsing in on itself. “Really sell it to me; okay? I’d hate to shoot you.”

All you can do is force a nervous smile and nod, before he sets his firearm down on the bedside table. John continued to stare at you before he cleared his throat.

“Well? Take your clothes off for me, sweet pea.”

You’re slightly disgusted that you’re even listening to the orders that John is giving you. As if you actually have known him for years now. As if you loved him. Your stomach feels sick, you attempt to hide your disdain as you quickly peel off your long sleeve shirt, before John places his hand on your arm before you can pull it over your head.

“Put it back on.”

You let out a deep exhale through your nose, eyebrows furrowing, but you obey. Slipping the shirt back over your body.

“I changed my mind. Stand up.” John commands, as he switches positions, sitting where you were on the bed, as you rise. “Do a strip tease for me.”

He had to be fucking with you now. So you frown and grimace at the thought.

“You’re kidding.” you laugh.

John reaches for his gun.

“Okay! Okay, fine.” You grunt, sighing. You didn’t even know how to do such a thing. John smiles wickedly, leaning back a bit on his bed as you turn around from him. Your hands slowly lift your shirt up, and over your head, John’s staring at your bare skin while the shirt drops to the floor. He bites the inside of his cheek while his shaft presses against his jeans.

You undress to only your undergarments, and you quite literally have no idea what to do next. You really don’t want to wing it and anger him, but you have a feeling if he keeps guiding you through it he’ll lose his patience. So you turn around, surprised to see John with his belt and pants undone.

His large hand is giving his own cock a few long strokes. Speaking of long.

You’re terrified of what that thing is going to do to you tonight. The tip is thick in itself, that’s the spot John’s hand seems to give the most attention. He’s even bucking his hips and thrusting upwards into the grip of his own hand, his eyes never leaving your body.

“Sell it to me. Don’t make me question it. If you don’t, I’ll fucking kill you.” John moans, and your heartbeat races. You notice his free hand is gripping his gun that’s sitting on the mattress.

It’s now or never.

You’ve done this a few times before, it’s been years, but you can probably fake it pretty well. Right?

You saunter up to him, mustering up all of the energy in your body to act this out as realistically as you can.

It’s not like John was ugly. He had a handsome face, you can tell he’s in shape, with those brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. And you have a thing for big noses anyway. Not to mention, his cock looks really nice.

Alright. You got this.

You straddle his waist, biting your plump lip and taking John’s shirt for him.

“Can’t just have me take my clothes off without you doing the same. Or it’s not fair.” You tease, giggling while your small hand grazes John’s lower shaft in a playful manner, pulling your hand away just as quick.

You were right. He is in shape. He’s lean with a muscular figure, alright, you’ll admit it, he’s attractive. This will help sell it.

“John, baby…” you mew, batting your eyelashes. His breathing gets heavier when you call him that. Okay, that’s good. He likes that.

“You should touch me instead.” you tell him softly, removing his hand from his cock and moving it to your breasts. John even lets go of his gun to unclasp your bra from behind your back. Your nipples harden from the cool cabin air hitting them, and John’s fingertips run over both of them.

“My pretty girl,” he grunts. John’s hands travel down to your hips and he grabs them with a killer grip. You try your best not to wince, but you know damn well there’s going to be bruises all over your after this.

“Our baby’s going to be beautiful…” he mumbles as his lips attach themselves to your neck, planting kisses on your throat. One of his hands trace down to your underwear, sliding it to the side a bit as his finger gently moves onto your clit. You jerk a bit from the sudden pressure, John chuckles at your reaction and from how wet you are, despite him forcing you to go through this.

“Oh yeah. You’re lucky that I make so much cum. It makes this process so much easier.” John tells you, and for some reason, it makes your stomach jump.

A whimper escapes you as he massages your sensitive nub, your head burying itself in the crook of his neck and collarbone, you’re instinctively grinding yourself against his finger.

You hate to admit it but this feels fantastic. It’s been years since you’ve even touched someone else like this. Shit, it’s the end of the world, the last thing that’s been on your mind was a good fuck.

That’s when you feel the gun against your chest this time. The barrel is ice cold compared to John’s flesh, and you look into John’s eyes as he continues to rub your clit.

“Say it.” John demands, finger on the trigger, with that same deranged twinkle in his brown eyes.

“S-say what?” You blubber out in between needy moans. John frowns.

“You know what I mean. Say it like you mean it.” He orders. He must get off on this. John’s gotta get off on having a helpless woman in his arms, with the threat of her losing her life, while also pleasuring her to the brink of euphoria.

You know what he means. But those three words, they’re important. You can’t just throw those around at every crazed man that insists on it. They’re reserved for people who actually deserve it.

Well, you are pretending after all.

The metal digs harder into your upper breast, and you grunt.

“John, I love you.”

He tossed the gun onto the floor and grabbed you closer, kissing you frantically as he took off the rest of his clothing, switching positions so he’s now on top of you.

You hate yourself for liking the way he smells. For the way you moan whenever he touches you in a pleasurable way. You don’t want a child, let alone want a child with an insane, breeding obsessed man.

John’s breathing is ragged while he lifts your hips up, yanking your thong off and sliding a pillow under the small of your back.

“Gravity, it helps sperm reach the cervix.” John musters out in between sloppy kisses between your neck, jaw, and mouth. “Won’t last long, it’s been years since I’ve done this.” he says, quickly moving his cock towards your mouth as you’re pinned down to his mattress. “Come on.”

You unhappily oblige. Opening your mouth to let his dick travel through your lips and down your throat. Swirling your tongue quickly around the shaft as he groans in pleasure from above, pulling himself out quickly. Strings of your saliva hang from his tip as he spreads around the moisture all around his erection. He lines himself up with your cunt, spreading your legs and even lifting each one onto his shoulders.

Fear sets in as you know he’s going to go deep. John shudders in pure ecstasy as he inserts his tip into you, the natural lube helps but it’s been far too long, your initial reaction is to dig your nails into his muscular back and wince.

It’s weird, John seems to actually care about your pleasure. Which in itself is odd since he’s a complete stranger, with only one goal in mind at the moment. He peers down at you, reading your facial expressions, before his thumb lightly kneads your clit once again.

His other hand goes towards your face, stroking your warm and flushed cheek as he kisses your calf that’s placed on his shoulder. Your cunt is now in a mixture of pain and pleasure, confusing you as grunts and whimpers leave your mouth.

“That better? When I do that?” John questions, his long hair draping over his eyes.

You nod.

John begins to thrust, slow and shallow, actually allowing you to adjust to his size. “Say it again, pretty girl.” he grumbled, pushing deeper into your tight cunt. You yelp from the sheer girth that is his cock, nails still making wounds into his flesh.

“I love you! I love you, John!” you cry out, his fingers moving faster on your clit while his thrusts quicken. You still have to sell it to him, so you reach your small hands up to his face and pull him into your own, slamming your lips onto his. You can help but moan loudly against his lips, since the slight repositioning of his body has given him even deeper access to your pussy.

But even this, you can’t fake. Your moans and pleads for more are all too real. And by the way John is wickedly smiling down at you, he can tell. Your tits bounce in rhythm to his movements, as he goes faster, chasing his own climax.

While he pounds into you, you can feel yourself getting close. Your legs instinctively tighten around John’s shoulders as you wheeze. John puts his large hand over your womb, feeling his bulge move in and out of you as he fucks you. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, drawing blood, going absolutely feral at the thought of his seed working it’s way inside of you.

“You’re gonna be my good little breeding doll, aren’t ya? It’s for the greater good, sweetpea.” John moans out, while sweat drips from his forehead. “For the greater good, greater good,” He’s repeating the phrase to himself as he fucks into you, his balls smacking the cusp of your cunt and ass. You can hardly handle the sheer overstimulation you’re experiencing, barely realizing he’s speaking to you.

“Tell me you love me, sweetheart.” John growls. “Be a good little wife, come on now.”

You feel your orgasm drawing closer the faster he goes. You’ve definitely had good sex but nothing like this. It was wrong. You didn’t want it. You don’t even know this man. Tears brimmed your eyelids as you made unhinged noises underneath him.

“I, I l-love you, J-John,” you manage to sputter out, suddenly, you’re seeing double since your eyes are crossing, your orgasm hitting you like a brick.

Your cunt clenched around John’s cock, sending him over the edge. He holds you closer to his large muscular frame, his arms swimming under your back and squeezing you tight. John grunts and moans as he cums, panting as he fills you with it.

“That’s right, baby doll, take my seed, that’s it.” John moans, keeping himself buried deep into your pussy as it finishes dripping out of him. Setting you back down on the mattress, John notices your body that’s completely limp from your cock drunk state. You can hardly move but that doesn’t stop you from feeling John’s cum shooting inside of you.

He strokes your cheek gently and smiles, sucking the blood from his lip and sighing.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” John asks, planting messy kisses on your bare chest and torso, caressing your stomach as he does so. He pulls out, keeping your thighs and hips elevated on the pillow beneath you.

You can hardly think, hell, you can hardly breathe. The weight of the situation sets in your chest but you can’t deal with the emotional repercussions of it at the moment. All you can think of is that gun that’s on the bedside table.

You hate that he made you cum so easily.

You hate the feeling of his cum dripping further into your cunt.

You hate that you didn’t just let him shoot you in the damn head.

You hate that he has a pretty smile and pretty eyes, no matter how demented they look.

You fucking hate that you’re probably going to miss your next period.

You swear you’re gonna be sick.

John is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over to grab his underwear and pants. Against your better judgement, your arm thrashes towards the firearm on the table, and you graze the barrel against the back of his skull of long dark hair. To your surprise, he doesn’t budge, and when your small finger pulls the trigger…

Click.

Another damn click.

You frown, pressing the magazine release button, only to realize it has been empty the entire time.

Your hands shake with the hunk of metal in them, your jaw clenching.

You swear you’re seeing red, as John lets out a deep throaty laugh from above.

It’s that handsome shit eating grin again.

Pearly whites accompanied by his five o’clock shadow, he’s already tied his long hair back and is even giving you a nod of appreciation.

“Oh, now I know I chose the right woman to carry my child.”

#john wick #john wick x you #jw #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #jw4 #keanu #john wick fanfic #john wick one shot

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eliwashere · 9 months

Text

Can't Hear You

summary: König gets a radio from you in the middle of battle. You tell him your hearing aids got busted, and he runs. tags: könig x gn!reader, hoh!reader, angst (?), fluff, pining, canon-typical violence, no use of Y/N, slightly proofread word count: 2.9k words

fyi this is my first fic on here!

and i'm also aware that hoh ppl can't join the military but i just like the feelings

requests are open !

The ride is bumpy.

König’s sniper hood scratches the tip of his nose as the van moves along gravel, the vehicle shaking, the engine revving. The sweat-caked fabric scrapes against his lips, a familiar feeling, one that he’s gotten used to over the years here with Kortac. He leans on the wall of the vehicle, eyes scanning over his squad.

The mission had sent them to the middle of South East Asia, the humidity sticking uncomfortably to König’s skin. He hears the quiet murmurs of the squad, silently complaining about the heat. His eyes land on you, seated across from him. You have your hearing aids turned off, your eyes closed as you simply wait till the van stops or gets attacked.

Your colonel knows you like to take moments to yourself, to let the noise muffle out. Well, you’d told everyone on your first day, when you’d just been shifted from another base due to your battle-earned hearing loss.

Your first day, when you first met König.

===

König remembers it well.

He remembers his superiors introducing you to the team, taking an extra moment to specially mention that you were hard of hearing. It surprised him, though he didn’t let it show (he couldn't anyway). Usually, they’d let soldiers go if they lost something on the field, a limb, a sense. But he figured that maybe they had a reason to keep you around, and that intrigued him.

“Sometimes I take them off, at night or during down time,” you said, pointing to your hearing aids as the Kortac squad stared you down, whether it be to size you up or… other actions with other motives. You had clocked König in the crowd from a mile away, his head sticking up among the others like a tower in a field. He had a tilt in his head, which he held unnecessarily high. You could almost hear the whirring behind his eyes, the churning cogs in his brain, trying to figure you out.

“And so, if anyone would like to partner up with your new teammate here, it would be greatly appreciated,” your superior had said, and you almost sighed. Someone had to keep an eye out for you, in case there was a drill, or an alarm you couldn’t hear. It bothered you that you needed to be followed around, that you’d likely be assigned a caretaker, or god forbid, a roommate. You need privacy, everyone in this base needed privacy, and having to share that space with someone felt akin to an intrusion.

But of course, the military couldn’t take any chances.

When no one answered, König couldn’t say he was surprised. Nobody would want to follow someone around all day on the off chance that there was a danger to the base, and he figured that you wouldn’t want that either, especially not with total strangers.

“Alright, then I guess we’ll have to–”

“I’ll do it.”

Heads whipped back to König, who only looked at his teammates once before looking back at you. He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe he pitied you, like you were the kid that got picked last during a game, or maybe he just related to the silence that you were met with, all too familiar.

“Well, that’s settled then.”

===

The van came to a stop at the edge off the main gravel road, the hood of the vehicle poking into the forest. You turn your hearing aids back on, the soft hum of the world flooding back into your senses. The team filed out of the back of the van, dirt and rock crunching under your boots. König checked his rifle for the nth time, before looking over to you. You met his gaze, an unspoken understanding for you to stay close by him filtering between the two of you.

The squad started north not long after, towards the enemy base. König, as colonel, leads the team. His head is on a swivel, looking out for any stray enemy soldiers, or landmines and traps on the forest floor. He spares a half a second to glance at you, your rifle held tight in your hands, expression focused, almost unreadable. It’s the expression you wore whenever you were training with the team, the expression that engraved itself into König’s retinas during your first few days with them, with him.

===

To your luck, they still let you have your own quarters, but also to your luck, you had to spend every other moment out of your room with König. Protocol, you had heard him say, accent deep set into his voice. You hadn’t expected it, to be honest, for a man his stature and size to have that voice. By no means did you not like it, in fact, there was something mesmerising about it whenever he was out on the battlefield. Crazed, you would describe it, crackling, like radio static.

König never did hear your voice often, one of the many silent types in the team, him included. He’d figured he’d leave it alone, but it was rare to find someone that spoke less than he did. He found himself observing you most of the time, which he had a lot of with you.

He noticed that you spoke more with your actions than anything.

When you were tired, you’d stretch the muscles in your neck, sucking a breath in as it emits a satisfying pop.

When you were frustrated, you’d clench your jaw, or you’d press your tongue into your cheek. If it was the other teammates bothering you, especially with their volume, you’d turn off your hearing aids, which has made König chuckle on more than one occasion. You’d never hear it though, but you could see the creasing of his eyes, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

===

The base is fairly barren, though most of the people who are there are heavily armed by the looks of it. That means it’s easy for your team to pick them off without getting seen, but it means a longer process and a more distance between the team. König can’t help but worry when you weren’t near, your presence having been a constant in his life for months now. At base or at battle, you would be at his side. So, when he sees you more than ten feet away from him, he breathes in a little deeper.

All it takes is one mess up, one wrong move, and suddenly the base’s sirens go off, the enemy soldiers yelling and firing. On one hand, König’s annoyed, because he’s going to have to find out who messed up and come up with a way to set them straight, but he can’t deny the adrenaline that pumps through his veins as he guns down enemies like target practice. The colonel watches their bodies drop with a twisted sort of satisfaction, the chaos of the moment fueling his hands as he slams an enemy into the brick wall of the building, a sickening crack and choked wail emitting from the now limp body.

König is a soldier, has been for a long time, and this is his element, his work, his life.

The static from his radio brings him out of the moment, and he ducks behind a wall for cover as he brings the device closer to his face.

“König?”

Your voice rings in his ears, and it would’ve bloomed a warmth in his chest if it wasn’t for its shakiness, the uncertainty in your tone. He doesn’t even get time to answer before you speak again.

“They…they’re broken, König. My hearing aids,” you say over the radio, ragged breaths and stutters punctuating your words. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t answer, knowing you can’t hear it anyway. He could hardly stomach the fear in your voice. You’re never scared, at least you’ve never shown it like this. But not being able to hear on the battlefield, not knowing if someone is behind you, or if a grenade had landed nearby; it scared König more than it did you.

“Nor–northern building, second floor.”

It’s all the information König needs for him to start running, sprinting to you.

===

It took a while for König to open up to you, four months, if anyone was counting. But König didn’t have anyone to really compare your time to, because you were the first one to ever try.

It was late in the night, König remembers. He forgot why he was even up, likely due to a nightmare, or simply the inability to even fall asleep, but he found himself in the common room, sat on the couch with a cup of tea in hand, the type that was supposed to help with sleep. He took a sip, sniper hood draped over his lap, his face exposed. The tea was warm, soothing, and König sighs through his nose as the liquid down his throat.

Training had been rather rough that day, with most of the soldiers already fast asleep by the time it hit midnight (a rarity). So, König hadn’t expected anyone to walk in, until you did, half asleep, feet dragging across the floors. You hadn’t noticed him, and he watched you open the shared fridge, pulling out the milk carton.

König hadn’t even considered the fact that his hood was off, and made no move to put it on either. He simply watched as you poured yourself half a glass, drinking it till it was gone. Your hearing aids weren’t in, he noticed, just as he noticed everything else. The scrapes on your elbow from training, the mess your hair was in, the dark circles under your half-lidded eyes… you looking right at him.

You tilted your head, empty glass in hand, the other holding the milk carton. At first glance, you had no idea who he was. Perhaps it was the sleep eating away at your brain, or the fact that he was sat in the dark, none of the lights on in the common room. But the electric blue of his eyes was familiar, and you knew.

The first thing out your lips was a hurried apology, looking away in favour of returning the carton into the fridge, placing the empty glass in the sink. You knew König never took that mask off for anyone, so to see the face under it felt like a violation of sorts on your part.

“It’s fine,” König had said, only to realise that his words couldn’t reach you, words that he was surprised he said himself. ‘It’s fine’? Was it actually fine?

Was König actually fine that you saw his face?

That your brows raised ever so slightly, surprised.

That you took a second to scan his features, despite the darkness of the room.

That your apology was so quick and so soft, that he swore his heart stopped for just a moment.

As you washed the cup in the kitchen sink, a hand finds itself on your shoulder, and you turned to face König, who was still unmasked.

To the untrained eye, he would’ve looked absolutely terrifying. Scars slashed across his features, his expression set and serious, but you saw the hesitation in his eyes, which were somehow the most expressive part of his face, yet the one feature he didn't hide.

König stood back a little, preserving your respective personal spaces as he drew his hand back to his side. You saw his lips part for a moment, as if to say something. You looked up at him, had to, because he towered over you, but you saw the indecision in his body language, and you gave him a nod.

“I can read lips,” you reassured. König heard you loud and clear, and his eyes look back into yours as he swallowed, adam’s apple moving along his neck. He thought for a moment, about what he wanted to say to you. A hard decision, considering the fact that he wanted to say everything in that moment, but he had a tendency to swirl into German if he got too carried away. So, he kept it simple.

“I don’t mind,” he said, aloud. He didn’t want to go out of his way to mouth the words to you, it felt rather condescending. But you got the message anyway, shown by the upwards curve of your lips, the single breath that you let out through your nose.

König breathed in. It was shaky, and filled his lungs to the brim. It felt like how he’d feel post-battle. The feeling of sinking emotions, of deep breathing and a mouth running dry. The feeling of pupils dilated, of his hands flexing and clenching at his side because god did he touch your shoulder just now? He didn't mean to do that.

“Are you sure?” you asked, cocking your head to the side with that slight grin, almost like you were anticipating, excited by the prospect of him wanting to share this part of him with you, one that he keeps so heavily guarded at all times. The thought made your chest ache.

Your colonel nodded, wetting his lips.

“I trust you.”

===

König runs incredibly fast for a bulky 6’10 man with tactical gear on and a rifle in his hands.

Fuck stealth, fuck sneaking and scouting around corners because every second he's not running is a second that you're alone and in danger. If any enemies are in his way, he simply shoots, not caring to make sure that they’re dead, he just needs them out of his fucking way.

He kicks in the door to the northern building, the sound reverberating through the building that he’s sure that you can feel. The colonel steps over the limp body of an enemy soldier, the puddle of red pooling under their lifeless corpse, soaking their camo maroon. His throat tightens when he sees your hearing aids sitting in that pool of red, or what’s left of it. Blood seeps into the shattered plastic, finding its way into the cracks, into the torn wiring of the device.

Making his way up the second floor, König catches a glimpse of the barrel of your rifle sticking out from behind a wall. Reckless on your part, but he could hardly blame you. He steps towards the corner, unsure of how to approach without startling you. The last thing he wants is for you to shoot him when he’s already so close to you; just behind a brick wall.

===

König found out why the military kept you around.

The first ever mission you go on together was his favourite. Before that, he’d heard the other Kortac officers talk about you, about how you'd snipe down enemies like candles on a cake, how you could scan a room in a single swipe of the eyes, how you’d saved their asses from more traps than they knew possible to put in one room.

He’d believed them, of course, because he never wanted to assume anything more than the best from you. But seeing was believing, and god, he was never more certain of anything in his life.

It was like coming face to face with an angel from a religion he didn’t know existed. He watched your steady hands, the rise and fall of your chest that held whenever you fired. You hardly missed, but when you did you’d pay it back by taking two more enemies out. König almost missed the grenade that landed by his feet, to which you kicked away before he could even react.

The two of you had to get shrapnel removed from your legs that day, but König smiles whenever he sees those scars, a reminder of you and your magnetic monstrosity.

===

He was right, you do try to shoot him.

König is lucky that your reflexes are just as good when retracting your rifle. He stares down at you, hands splayed and raised at his sides, firearm hitting the hard concrete floor with a cloud of dust. You’ve backed yourself into a corner where you had the best vantage point, where no one could see you through any windows or balconies. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he sees you like this, reduced to frantic breaths and wide eyes.

“König,” you say, his callsign slicing through your breathlessness as you lower your weapon. The relief sends chills down your spine, stirring together with the adrenaline in your blood; a boiling broth of feelings. You had half-expected that König didn’t hear your radio distress call, that someone had gotten to him before you’d gotten through. It was an imaginable thought, that someone would be able to take down this hulking boulder of a man, but you thought the impossible.

You watch him lower his hands, reaching them out towards you instead. You push yourself from the corner, your back killing you as you grab onto his wrists. His hands clench around nothing, the muscles in his wrists flexing under your grip.

“König, I can’t… can’t hear you. I-I can’t–”

Without a second thought, König slips his arm from your hands and lifts his hood over his helmet.

“You’re safe,” he says aloud, making sure you have your eyes on him. Eye-black mixes with his sweat, a trail of ink running down his pale skin. He’d lowered himself to your eye-level, definitely straining his back. He holds onto your bicep, giving it a squeeze. The pressure is comforting, grounding you to reality, to König’s presence.

You nod, movements stuttered. König smiles, and so does his piercing blue eyes.

“You’re safe with me.”

#konig #cod x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig cod #angst #fluff #konig x gn!reader #canon typical violence #first fic #cod x gn!reader #no use of y/n #someone pls teach me how to use this hellsite #like what do i include in an intro or masterlist post #send help

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