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lunarscaled · 10 months

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-> The plastic of the basket handle bends beneath their tight grip, the meat of their palm where the joint of their thumb met with the rest of their hand uncomfortably stuff as a twinging cramp radiates into their fingers; they couldn't afford to lose their hands, they anxiously think. Their Stand required that they pull the bowstring to fire, and it was infinitely easier to do with fingers than it was their teeth or any other part of their body. They know people set records all the time for pulling amazing shots without a limb or two, but it really couldn't be them, it wasn't practical for their circumstance. ( not that people choose that. a second feeling beneath their worry bubbles up: they should be more grateful for the body they have, as much as it is used against them. this terrible, blood-stained hull that gave them hands to hold others with also gave them a bile-scorched throat when they couldn't hack it the first few times---dividing up a body, that is. their blessed body, which prays in church pews and crawls on their knees, begging for forgiveness while their shoes are still leaving tacky, red footprints behind them. their disgusting vessel, which protects them not from themselves, or God, or anyone, and especially not from him. )

The following thought comes about that, really, it's not their hands that are the issue, but that they can't seem to find enough space between the two of them. They could put themselves anywhere in the grocery store and they know he would still find them, like a curse. Like a law. Their shoes hit the tile floor in a barely restrained rush that wants to break into a run; they want whatever rope or chain that has caught their ankle to release them. They want people to look away.

-> They turn a hard right and head towards the nearest aisle with the fewest people in it regardless of if they had business there or not. They're falsely perusing the many stacked bottles of vitamins and holding their basket too close to their body though it is empty, as if taking it were removing an integral part of themselves. They can't hide behind comfort items here---no locked doors or stolen away dark spaces. There was no space under kitchen sink with cold pipes pressing against their cheek, the sound of dripping water steadier than their heart. Their stare, unfocused, darts back and forth between earth-colored bottles with their ears straining to stay in touch with the sounds around them: the buzz of ceiling lights too bright for this late in the day, the squeaky wheel of someone's shopping cart an aisle over, someone talking aloud about their dinner plans and don't forget to grab green onions and the sticky peel of a child's shoe off the linoleum floor. Footsteps, footsteps, footsteps; their tap tap tapping making Lyric's pulse jump on the end of a string. A yo-yo that you can't get to work quite right.

Keep moving. It's all they know how to do.

-> They try to think of anything they might actually have reason to shop for, one hand fisting a bottle of iron pills. They weren't anemic but they had been feeling dizzy lately at the sight of their own blood. Watching it run down a drain in thin lines made their skin itch; they washed their hair so much and yet it still seemed to stink of copper---that's right. They should buy more shampoo. Something stronger, this time it will get the smell out for sure. Their hair was in the best shape it had ever been because they severed its ends with a knife and brushed out loose strands even if it pulled on their scalp and hurt, because nobody would suspect it then, right? No one would look at someone with well-kept hair and suspect their hands were blackened with someone else's life. They sympathize with Lady Macbeth, scrubbing her hands raw, because Lyric felt that way too. They're burning all their clothes with stains on them because they won't come out ( never mind that he told them in extensive detail how to. never mind that he ridicules them for making a mess they didn't ask for. they couldn't be salvaged, like themselves, it was better to just get rid of them and buy new ones even if it meant their whole wardrobe came down to three different colors and as many cheap t-shirts as they could buy because they keep going through them. )

The hair products aisle isn't that far over. Lyric lingers around the corner at the end near the wall and waits for a woman with a basket full of nail polish and new makeup to make her pick, something pink and bubbly, and leave before they shuffle through the space ( and it really is shuffling. little footsteps like they're afraid to walk too confidently, like someone will suspect they've already stolen something. ) There are shelves and shelves of matching bottles promising rejuvenation and dandruff-free and split ends restorer. Lyric cares about none of it. Some even specify specific hair types, and how the hell would they know what that was? Who knew anything about the type of hair they had? It was just hair. Some days Lyric wants to cut it all off with a straight razor, bleach it and become someone else. Some days they want to impersonate the body of their brother because they think it will make them a better person, and yet they cannot. It would be too close to tampering with a dead body, because they were the same.

Lyric picks the strongest smell they can find. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it drowns the fountain-penny-water smell out.

( just because no one had said anything about it yet didn't mean it wasn't there. )

-> The weight in the basket is some comfort. It grounds them to the space: for now, they are alone ( though it would likely not stay that way. ) If they had made a shopping list in advance and brought it with them, what would they have put on it? Perhaps if they go about their business like any other person, if Kira approached them again it would be easier to put space between them with the facade that he was a stranger, a freak. Who followed "girls" around in the grocery store trying to get their attention but some kind of kidnapper? All those missing persons cases---no one could blame them for being afraid, could they? They were just looking out for themselves! They can't be too cautious, it's dark out after all, perhaps the police should escort them to their car, or home. That was reasonable action for a "young lady", wasn't it? ( not that Lyric was a girl or a lady. not that they had any intention of pretending to be such. but other people's assumptions took an inch for a mile: they kept their hair long and people cast their opinion of them without a second thought. )

They slow their anxious footsteps, stretch the stride more, walk normally. They pick a bodywash in a brightly colored bottle since they're here, something lavender scented to help them sleep, and wonder if all the artificial smells will finally drown out the anxious itching in the back of their throat that they can't seem to get rid of. The ever-present urge to hold back their bangs and vomit all their feelings out. ( ...maybe they should cut it. Ah, but that would prevent them from hiding behind it like they often do. its length kept other people out as much as it seemed to hinder them. )

-> They're careful not to linger in any aisle too long, lest they be discovered again, but their attention can only be drawn in so many directions; every time they tried to focus on browsing normally so they didn't end up with a basket of useless things, they could not spread their focus thin over all the sounds around them. Could not listen for anyone approaching to flee in advance. They avoid the crowded spaces for the open-late interior garden section, full of bouquets and blooming house plants, smelling like soil and mist---maybe they should have one. They used to keep plants as a pass time when they had the space, but the apartments in Morioh were cramped at best and prisons at worst. There wasn't much room for anything except them and a futon and some necessities in the kitchen, an old tv they got at a used appliance store, a little radio some old lady was getting rid of anyways. But maybe they could make space. Maybe a houseplant would bring them ease in a way they hadn't thought of before, they had always liked being closer to nature than to people. If they could abandon this life right now and vanish into the woods, they would ( but is that because you want to be free or because you want to escape? are you releasing your bonds or hiding like an animal? )

Buried in their thoughts, they are unaware that someone has come close to them. When they are aware, it is already too late. The broad leaves of a standing fern cast a shadow over their head, one front obscuring their vision, but they know. Their organs seem to drop right out of them; the mess on the floor is humiliating, just like their terrified face, passing over for a second with pinprick pupils in the same second their feet are already turning away. The basket no longer feels like a comfort. They want to throw it at him and run.

They don't get far enough to even start.

"--- ---Nn!"

-> He doesn't have to bruise them further for them to wind up, shoulders hunched, some scream on the tip of their tongue of don't touch me! that never comes out. Before they can find their footing or their lost guts, he has reined them in to match pace, hand on their far shoulder that helps him keep them in place like a handle or a bridle. They know when they go home and look at themselves in the steamed-up bathroom mirror and wonder if the person looking into the mirror and the person looking back are the same, they will see the bruise where his fingers are digging into right now and it will make them sick. They will push the heel of their palm into it like a dirt stain, try to rub out of their skin and only succeed in giving themselves more pain and no relief; it will haunt them for days, a reminder: he doesn't have to be there to keep them in check. They will hide it with wrapped bandages and long sleeves like an open wound, cover themselves in layers---a sense of guilt will fill their gut. Every time they remember it, their appetite will diminish, their hands will shake. Right now, the feeling of his fingers digging into the joint that makes them visibly twist and wince is just someone pushing their handprint into soft clay. The permanence doesn't come until its dried up and fired.

-> They try to open their mouth. His fingers, splayed in their thick hair ( they don't want them there! don't touch them don't touch them don't touch them--- ), suddenly are a weight that pushes them forward with a quiet hiss that burns in their neck and spine ( both hands on the handle of their basket squeeze down. they want to hit him with it. they want to drop it and fake a tantrum, or a seizure, or anything that will get someone's attention, but they are stiff. they are desperately clutching their shopping like a terrified bystander to a car wreck---their own tragedy is the body caught between shrapnel and the wheel and the front of the truck that collided with it. nobody could hope of getting them out in time, and so they are forced to hang with a shard of glass lodged through their abdomen until they bleed out, all the agony of their broken ribs finally setting in. ) They don't feel good. Lyric can see the little blue, worn dress shoes the woman next to them wears when she comes close only to keep walking away. They almost reach a hand out to her. Almost dare to beg for help, but who were they kidding. Who would believe them? Who would even think to look at them as anything other than a complaining teenager trying to cause a disturbance, and while that could draw attention to them, it would not get them away. If anything, they'd be expected to leave with him, as a real child. They would be expected to forfeit all control to the "adults" of the situation. They grind their teeth.

"Fuck you." they seethe under their breath. He might not even hear it. It's probably better if he doesn't.

-> They're being hauled around again and they hate it. Their anxiety self-preserves by catalyzing into anger, the more frightened they become of him the more angry they are that they should have to endure being frightened in the first place. Who was he but a man? Mortal, faulty, prone to ego and assumptions. Who was he to be dragging them around like this, their shoulder and skull sore, rushing them through aisles with their head kept tucked with politeness---excuse me, pardon me, do you mind? Every time they drag their heels he just pushes them straight through it until they're afraid they'll trip and land in their face; every turn he chooses is one Lyric wants to try to seperate from him, knowing they may be openly dragged back if they continue to resist, and yet they must. In every small way, they must. They don't feel like they have a scrap of dignity left without it and it frightens them.

They see the bathroom before they recognize where they're going to end up.

-> They wonder, for just a moment, if he's going to honestly swirlie them like some kind of prank. It's almost hysterical to think about. Just one more humiliation for the chart; first you can't defend yourself in public, now you can't save yourself in private either. ( the bathroom door squeaks on its hinges. just as they enter they smell smoke but can't learn where it comes from. the inside smells of drain cleaner, wet tissue, bleach and hand soap in an awful mixture that makes them feel displaced. unreal. ) They lose their footing when he turns into the closest free stall and shoves them first; they feel their heel slip on a waxed tile and fall, twisted and clutching their basket to not spill, onto the toilet seat ( they're lucky it has a lid. ) In the small space their cowardice climbs up their throat: bile, trembling mouth, a cold sweat in an already cold space, a hole being seared into their gut. In their unwanted recline the toes of their shoes reach just past his, legs sprawled to not be heel-first against his shins. He looks down on them. It both terrifies them towards compliance and also makes them want to throw a fit. To stomp and kick and bang their shoes against the door until someone HAS to come, loud beside his abdomen, over and over again; BANG! BANG! BANG! they want the door to hang pitifully from it's hinges---they want to see him disheveled and destitute, with his teeth broken on the porcelain rim. They want to get up and scream in his face until their throat is hoarse and they feel better, because what really matters here is how they feel, right? Isn't it? Didn't they matter?

They mumble something under their breath.

They don't have to look up to see his eyes when the door latch clicks. They wouldn't want to even if they could.

"I don't need your help."

Was this help?

" 'M not gonna follow this fake-ass domestic shit. I'm going home."

@quirofiliac moved from X for beta

#quirofiliac #⭐ well you're a 'real man' and you do what you can. you only take as much as you can grab with two hands ( quirofiliac. )#⋇ SO CATCH ME UP I’M GETTIN OUT OF HERE: JOJO’S BIZARRE ADVENTURE #⋇ DIAMONDS ON THE FLOOR: PART 4 #long post cw #car crash cw #its just used as a metaphor but jic

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crankityart · 2 years

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“A little high, isn’t it?” Viktor x female!reader

Synopsis: You find Viktor sitting in his favorite spot and realize that this little platform he is so comfortable on is located over a surprisingly deep abyss. With no railing. Immediately your fear of heights kicks in.

Word Count: 1.164

Content Warnings: Heights? Fear of heights maybe?

Content: SFW, wholesome, a little chaotic and silly, anxious reader, teasing, flirting

Notes: Y/LN = Your last name

A/N: My first Viktorxreader fanfiction based on my last post about Jayce’s and Viktor’s seemingly favorite spot in Arcane. It’s mainly just goofy and silly, but I really had to write it down. ;v; also English is not my first language so forgive me if anything sounds a lil weird

You had to bend down a little, to not hit your head on a low-hanging pipe.

With your eyes scanning your surroundings, you started to ask yourself, why anybody would come to this place at all. Sure, some spaces at the Academy were crowded, especially the ones that were real eye-catchers. But Jayce had assured you that his partner would not be in any of those, instead, he had predicted that you would find the lanky scientist right here, inside the waterworks of Piltover Academy.

You had to admit, it was kind of a strange place, not really welcoming anybody with its giant cogwheels spinning tirelessly and other machinery doing its job. Definitely, something that could cost you a finger if you weren’t careful.

Then a familiar silhouette eventually caught your attention. You walked towards a tall door frame or maybe a window, you weren’t sure, that was shaped like a giant keyhole. And behind it you finally saw what had drawn your colleague to this peculiar place: All of Piltover was reaching towards a marvelous, cloudless sky that was dyed in pinks and oranges as the sunset was about to bring in the evening. A few birds were flying towards the south, barely visible on this huge beautiful canvas.

”Wow, that’s what I call a panorama.”, you marveled, making Viktor now turn his head around in surprise.

”Oh, didn’t expect to see you here, Miss Y/LN.”, he replied, while you were still distracted by the breathtaking view. Mindlessly, you took a few more steps forward.

”Now I totally understand why Jayce and you are so fond of this place.”, you chuckled, your gaze slowly panning. ”How on earth do you find something like– Argh!”

You immediately choked on the rest of your sentence as soon as you looked down and realized that the small platform you were standing on was high, way up high above the ground. You were staring into a vast abyss that was literally only a leap away. And there was no railing.

As soon as the dizziness kicked in you stumbled backwards, instinctively clinging onto the tall door frame that was the only thing near you.

”Oh my goodness …”, you exclaimed breathlessly. You could hear Viktor commenting on your reaction with a quiet chuckle.

”Yes, it’s a little high, isn’t it?”

”A little?!”, you spouted in complete disbelief. Just then you noticed that your colleague was sitting at the very edge of this platform, legs dangling in midair. You felt like you were about to pass out.

”Viktor, have you lost your mind?! Get over here right now!”, you demanded in sheer and utter panic, to which the scientist snickered and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

”What? Don’t be silly, it’s not that dangerous!”

”Not that– Viktor!”, you put on the strictest face you could manage at that moment. Granted, it probably didn’t look that intimidating, considering you were crouching on the floor, nails buried into the wall, looking like a stressed-out cat. ”There is no railing whatsoever on this thing! One false move and you’re dead!”

Viktor eyed you with a bit of concern in his look, unable to shake that smirk off his face.

”I didn’t know you were that scared of heights.”

”I’m not!”, you protested immediately, feeling your cheeks getting hot from his judgment. You weren’t a scaredy-cat, really. But unfortunately, sudden anxiety had taken complete control over your body, much to your embarrassment. ”I’m just scared of you falling to your death, which – considering the fact that you are not secured in any way right now and have inherent trouble balancing yourself – is a very real danger!”

You didn’t mean to get all snarky with Viktor, but the longer you saw him sitting there all carelessly the madder it drove you. Eventually, he raised both his eyebrows in defeat and reached towards his cane, another chuckle escaping his lips. He had no business laughing like that, you found.

”Okay, okay, I didn’t plan on giving you a heart attack today.”, he replied. You couldn’t suppress a distraught whimper when you saw him leaning forward to get up on his feet. Seriously, this guy would be the death for you, if this went on for much longer.

As soon as he turned around, you took a deep breath and grabbed his arm, pulling him back and off the platform in one move. Dazed, from the adrenaline rushing through your veins you didn’t notice how you had suddenly wrapped your arms around his upper body, holding the man closely as you started inching away from the door frame until both of you were standing inside the Academy walls again.

”Wow, careful there!”, Viktor stumbled in his steps for a moment. Then he looked down at you, meeting your glance with a bashful gleam in his golden eyes. That’s when you realized that you have never been this close to him before. You could literally feel his nervous breath on your skin and the warmth coming from his chest, while your fingers were still buried into the soft fabric of his vest.

”Uhm …”

”Oh … I’m sorry!”, you stammered and immediately let go of him, making a little jump backwards in the process. A blush promptly spread across your face and you knew that there was nothing at that moment that could have somehow helped compose yourself. You were a panting, red-faced mess.

It got a bit silent between the two of you, Viktor still gazing at you with a somewhat mesmerized expression, while you desperately tried to not look him in the eyes. Then a burst of quiet laughter suddenly escaped his mouth.

”A little overprotective aren’t we, Miss Y/LN?”, the scientist teased. You whipped your head around, only to be met with the mischievous gleam in his eyes, as his lips curled up to form a suppressed smirk.

You opened your mouth in protest, desperately reaching for words to say but nothing came to your mind. Eventually, there wasn’t much you could do but to put on a frown and puff up your cheeks with a pouty expression.

”You know what? Next time I’m gonna push you off that platform with my own two hands!”, you punched Viktor in the shoulder, making him flinch slightly. Still, he couldn’t help but to laugh at your reaction.

”I’m sorry. I should be thankful that there’s someone caring for me on such a deep level.”

”As if!”, you huffed, now barely able to suppress a smile yourself. ”I just want to keep myself out of trouble as your assistant, that’s all. Don’t you think you can fool anyone, I know you’re a little troublemaker, Mr. I-help-Jayce-Talis-break-into-Heimerdinger’s-office!”

Your colleague giggled in response, trying to swat away your hand as you poked him on the chest accusatory.

”Ah, you have figured me out quite well, I have to admit.”

”Of course. That’s my job as an assistant after all.”

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x y/n #viktor fluff #arcane x reader #viktor x you #arcane sfw

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imthebadguyyy · 3 years

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A/N - based off of this sinful photograph

Suggested listening - Wildside by Normani and Kiss It Better by Rihanna

Wildside

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (fem!littlemix!reader)

Fandom - F1

Summary - You've been on tour for a while, and you miss your loverboy. But when he surprises you on tour, its bound to get spicy.

Warnings - smut (not well written)

The snap of hips. The soft groans and moans. The sound of pants. The sound of Rihanna's 'Kiss It Better' blaring through the walls. The bed knocking against the wall as Lewis's hands squeezed your hips, the intensity of the thrust pushing the bed against the wall. The high pitched moan that left your mouth as you reached your high, eyes closing as stars exploded behind your eyelids, as your boyfriend came right after you, your walls clenching as he came. Even after reaching your high, you didn't want to open your eyes, far too consumed in the earth shattering pleasure that was coursing through your veins, until a soft hand reached to pull your chin up, soft brown eyes looking into your own, clouded with lust and euphoria.

Pulling your mouth into his in a heated kiss, Lewis moved his hand to rest on your bare stomach, squeezing your tummy softly as he deepened the kiss. Pulling away he let his head droop onto your bare chest. "That was.." he began, far too blissed out to think of an adjective. "Godly" you said, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to come to terms with the intensity of your orgasm. Laughing he leaned back up to kiss your nose, before standing up and walking to the bathroom. You heard the tap running, and the sound of the dustbin opening and closing. You closed your eyes again, the aftershocks still coursing through your body.

Opening them again slowly, you saw Lewis walk towards you, towel in hand, and a lazy smile on his face. He gently cleaned your thighs, finishing with kisses on both of them. He reached up and wiped your torso, which was gleaming with a thin layer of sweat, before running the towel over your nose, cheeks, eyes and mouth. He dropped the towel in the clothes hamper near the bathroom door, pulling on his boxer shorts and and pulling out one of his t shirts from the cupboard. "What about the clothes on the floor" you piped up, finally beginning to wake up from your post pleasure state. "When did it get so messy?" He said, spotting 5 different clothing items in 5 different corners of the room. "When you decided to run your hand up my dress in a restraunt" you replied, throwing him a fake glare.

"You liked it" was his cocky reply, smirk spreading over his face as you flushed and ran a hand through your hair. "I did not" you lied, watching as he raised his eyebrows. "Oh really ? Thats not what you were saying 5 minutes ago- oh wait, you weren't saying anything at all. You were too busy moaning my name to say anything else-" "OKAY fine I loved it. Now shut up and bring your fine ass back for cuddles"

*-*-*

That was a month ago. Now you've been away for nearly one and half months, away with the girls on the LM5 tour. You loved touring, it was the best part of being a singer, getting to see the music you girls made together come to life on a stage in front of thousands and thousands of screaming fans. It was a thrill like no other. The only problem was that you were away from home. Distance was never an issue for the two of you, after all, he was a Formula 1 driver. It was very rare that he was home, except during the breaks and the gaps till race weekend, but ever since you two had started dating, he tried to be with you whenever you could. Sometimes, your shows would be in places where the races were too, and then he'd definitely turn up. But it was a difficult thing to do all the time, and some nights on tour were spent pulling all nighters as you talked to each other on the phone, till one of you eventually fell asleep.

But you knew when you started dating him, this wouldn't exactly be a regular relationship. The two of you were doing your dream jobs, and they were both extraordinary. And you were willing to put in the work you had to put in to make the relationship work, and you did. Yet here you were in Madrid, feeling heartbroken and desperately wanting your boyfriend by your side. It had been a rough couple of weeks, you were jet lagged and tired, and although this was the second leg of the tour, and you had had a break, it was tiring. It was hard going to bed every night alone, when all you wanted was to cuddle your boyfriend.

Little did you know, Lewis was feeling the same. In fact he had missed you so much, he had told Angela and his publicist to cancel all events for a week, while he flew out to Madrid to see you. He had missed you, he had missed you more than he could put into words. But he also wanted to surprise you. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled down to Leigh Anne's contact, and sent her a text.

Lewis, Leigh Anne

Hey. Is Y/N asleep ?

Hey! No, she's in an outfit fitting.

Okay that's good. I need your help with something.

Sure how can I help ?

I want to surprise her by coming to see you guys in Madrid.

Oh thats wonderful ! She's been a little down in the dumps. I think she misses you.

I miss her too.

Let me know when, and I'll send a car to pick you up.

I'll be there on Saturday. Landing at 3:15 and I should be at the hotel by 4:30. Then I can get ready and surprise her at the show.

Okay done. I'll send the car around 5:30,so you can rest for a bit. You should be here by 6. The show's at 6:15.

Thank you! Can't wait : )

I'm so happy youre coming to see her ! I'll let the girls know.

*-*-*

As soon as he had finished texting, Lewis decided to start packing, the prospect of seeing you again sending a buzz of happiness running along his veins. God, he had missed you a lot. He turned to Roscoe, the dog sitting by his feet, looking up at his dad with his head cocked to one side. "I'm going to go see Mumma, Roscoe" he explained, smiling as the doggo barked in response. He wouldn't be able to take him to Madrid, he'd have to leave him with a dog sitter, but he couldn't feel too bad about it, since he had had Roscoe with him even when you were gone. And besides, Roscoe enjoyed the dog creche. He couldn't wait for Saturday.

Later in the evening, he sat down with a glass of wine, while the ringtone of your FaceTime rang through the empty house. After a few more seconds of ringing, the call was picked up, your tired face coming into view. "Hi darling" he said, noticing the tiredness in your eyes, and how much you were struggling to keep them open. "Hi bubs. Did you finish eating?" You asked, rubbing your eyes. "No, I've ordered soup" (did anyone get the reference ;) "Oh okay" was the reply. "What about you? What time is it?" "Its 9:20 AM" you replied, gently rubbing your eyes again, forcing yourself to stay awake.

"9:20? Thats pretty late baby. Why are you still sleepy?" "We were recording till 4 AM, so Im functioning on like 5 hours sleep right now" "Oh damn. Go back to sleep then baby" "Can't, rehearsal" was you reply, making him furrow his eyebrows. "Okay I guess. But don't tire yourself out" "I won't" "I love you" he said, smiling at you. "I love you"

*-*-*-*

The Madrid show was always a fun one. The fans were loud and you loved it. They were one of the best crowds you girls ever played for, and the show had its own adrenaline and excitement. But it was difficult to give a 100% when you were tired, but you really tried, you did. During Power, you hit highnotes you didnt think you could, during Woman Like Me you danced like there was no tomorrow. During Wasabi, you brought your sass level up to a 1000. It was during Bounce Back that you caught sight of a very familiar face in the audience. Unable to actually grasp if you had actually seen Lewis, you turned to Jade, who was on your side, and looked back at the crowd and back to her, asking for confirmation.

The smirk she gave you was answer enough. After that, focusing on giving an excellent performance increased tenfold. Every swirl of your hips, every flip of your hair, every wink you threw at the audience, it was all five times sexier. In the crowd, your boyfriend was well aware of what you were doing, and it was fair to say that you were succeeding at it. He could feel an uncomfortable sensation around his pants region, as his cock twitched uncomfortably in his pants. He couldn't wait till the show was over, and you two could have a show of your own.

*-*-*

"That was amazing darling!" Lewis said, spotting the 5 of you in your dressing room. "Oh look its Mr. Loverboy!" Perrie said, cackling as you rolled your eyes at her, before running up to your lover and jumping into his arms. "Hiya Bub! I missed you!" "I missed you too love. That's why I surprised you. I couldn't stand another day without you at home" he said, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you stable as you jumped into his arms. A chorus of "awws" echoed throughout the room, as the girls watched your cute little interaction. What wasn't cute however was the comment Lewis made in your ear, hiding his face in your ear so that the girls couldn't see. "I can't wait to get back to the hotel. I saw the performance you were putting on for me baby. You have no idea how hard I got, how uncomfortable I was standing in front of so many people when all I really wanted to do was fuck you"

You could feel your mouth become dry, and your heartbeat quicken, and you could feel the area between your thighs become wet. You tightened your grip around him, letting your crotch rub against his very softly. "I think it's time to go" you mumbled against his ear. "Okay girls, as lovely as it was to see you, I think it's time we go back to the hotel. I'm pretty worn out from travelling as well" "Yeah I'm pretty tired too" you replied, faking a large yawn. "Alright then, we'll see you guys tomorrow!" Leigh Anne said, leaning forward to give you a hug. After you finished hugging all the girls, the two of you made your way to the car, eagerly waiting to get back home.

The car ride home was tense. The tension was apparent in the air, reverberating through the air, choking you in a way you revelled in. The air was thick with tension, and it was suffocating you in the best way possible. It was almost too much to take. When the hotel came into sight, you practically leapt out of the car, and rushed to the door, an equally ruffled Lewis beside you. But he was not going to give in to you so easily. He enjoyed seeing you flustered. And he was not a person that gave someone what they wanted when they asked for it,no. He was going to have you desperate for it. Smirking to himself, he made his way to the reception, grabbing you by the waist as he went.

Throwing him a confused look you followed, slightly frustrated. "Hello sir, how can I help you?" the man at the reception asked, eyes going slightly wide as he recognized the two of you. "Hi! I just wanted to ask, till what time is your pool and spa open?" He asked, sliding his hand down to the back of your dress. "The pool closes at 10 pm sir, and the spa at 9 pm. We open the pool at 7 am and the spa at 11pm"he replied, struggling to maintain his professionalism as he spoke to one of the best drivers in Formula 1. "Alright thank you. And what time does breakfast start?" Lewis asked, hand pressing down on your ass, ever so discreetly. "Breakfast is from 6-10 am sir" "Thank you so much"

Next to him, you were fuming. Of course he was going to ask questions to which he already knew the answers to. A painful throb between your legs made you let out a small whimper, and the man at the reception looked at you with concern in his eyes. "Ma'am are you alright?" He asked, eyeing your stiff posture and tense state. "Yes, just tired, thank you" you replied, a little stiffly, but it was hard to concentrate when Lewis's promise of fucking you senseless kept replaying in your mind. "Alright then, good night" Lewis said, biting back a smirk at your flustered state. He knew getting you all riled up would lead to some seriously earth shattering sex, and he couldn't wait. But first, he definitely wanted to tease you, to push you over the edge, just a little more.

Your room was on the 16th floor, and as the two of you made your way into the elevator, he eyed you up and down, eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts. The minute the door shut, he pushed you against the wall, capturing your lips in a steamy kiss you'd be remembering the next day. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing hard, eliciting a moan from your lips. The moment your lips parted, he was pushing his tongue into yours, his other hand coming up to pull on your hair roughly, relishing in the gasp that left your lips. As suddenly as he started, he stopped, pulling back and standing almost nonchalantly against the wall.

Trying to wrap your head around what happened, you gripped the wall with your hand, feeling your legs grow weak to a point where you felt like you couldn't stand on your own. You could feel your wetness dripping, threatening to run down your thighs, as the throbbing became even more painfully exciting. You looked down at the floor, eyes closing as your frustration grew more and more by the second. Finally, with a little 'ding', the elevator stopped at the 16th floor. The moment the door opened you stepped out on wobbly legs, trying your best to walk properly. But of course, that wasn't going to happen. As you turned one long corridor, Lewis suddenly grabbed your waist, pushing you against the wall again, to reach down and suck on your neck. You let out a gasp, and tried to run your crotch against his, but the retaliated with a slap to your ass, smirking when a high pitched moan left your lips. Lifting you up against the wall, he mumbled against your ear "the key card" your clouded mind was unable to process the words, too consumed by slight relief you were getting. "Get the key card baby" he repeated. This time you noted it, reaching down to his pants pocket to pull out the key card. You couldn't resist running your hand over his cock, feeling how rock hard he was. The thought of him fucking you senseless returned, and you let out a groan.

Grabbing the card from your hand, he opened the door, propping you up against the door in your bedroom. His eyes were filled with a raw, animal desire, as he dropped the card on the floor and reached up to unzip your dress. He ripped the zipper down, your dress falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. He locked his eyes on your heaving chest, hand reaching up to grab your chin, pulling you in for a searing kiss. His hand slid up your torso, reaching behind to unhook the red lacy bra you were wearing, letting it drop to the floor as he took in the glorious sight in front of him. You waited, wanting him to just touch you, but he just stared, eyes looking into yours, clearly saying "beg for it"

You couldn't help the soft "please" that left your lips, too desperate for some sort of touch. "Please what?' Lewis said, tightening his grip on your waist. "Please" was all you could say again, nearly whimpering again at the rough look in his eyes. "Use your words baby. Now, please what?" "Please just touch me!" You finally gasped out, moaning loudly when he licked a stripe down your chest before taking your right tit into his mouth. His hand fondled the left one, running his thumb over your erect nipple, the rough pad of his thumb sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His mouth sucked on the skin of your tit, before moving down to bite down on your nipple. You gasped again, pain and pleasure coursing through your body as his tongue ran over your nipple over and over till it nearly felt raw. He switched his actions, moving his mouth to your left tit instead, letting his hand harshly fondle the other. He continued the same process of biting, licking and sucking, till he was satisfied with himself. "I fucking love this baby. Seeing you all wet and needy for me. So what do you want? My mouth? My fingers? My cock? Or does my baby want them all ?" He asked, watching as your pupils dilated and you let out a strangled moan.

You let your crotch rub against his thigh, gasping when the friction went straight to your core. "Look at you darling. I asked you what you what you wanted, and you picked my thighs? Well, I want to see you dripping. I want to see you cum on my fingers, my mouth, my thighs and especially on my cock. I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again till you can't even stand on your own fucking legs. I want your thighs to be shaking around my head. I want to see you moan and groan and scream my name so loud, by tomorrow everyone in this hotel will know my name, because you'll spend all night screaming it" you moaned again, his words going straight to your core."Please Lewis, God, just make me cum please!" The desperation of your cry was enough for him to carry you to the bed, dropping your body onto the soft mattress.

He pulled of shirt, unbuttoning every button so you could see him do it. He could see your eyes grow dark, as his compass tattoo came into sight. You had told him it was one of your favourites, and he had used it against you ever since you had told him that. Smirking at you, he climbed onto the bed, lying down between your legs. You pushed yourself up against the headboard, spreading your legs wide for him. His eyes grew dark, as your core came into his view, shimmering with your juices. A near animalistic growl left his mouth, the sound hitting your core. He moved so that he was situated right in front of your core. He let his eyes take in the sight of you in front of him, snapping back to reality when you let out a groan of frustration. Throwing you a devilishly reassuring smile, he inched neared and nearer, till his nose was nearly touching your clit. Then he just lay there. Not moving. You could feel your heartbeat hammering against your chest, chest heaving up and down, an alarming intense feeling growing in your tummy. Finally, when it became too much you let out a small scream of frustration "Oh for fucks sake Lewis please just fuck me!" Your outburst brought a smile to his face. "Oh I will. Just not yet" and with that, he ran a finger along your slit, before finally slipping it into you. You let out a moan, finally getting the friction you had been desperate for. His fingers circled your clit, thumb gently pressing down, before he removed it,only to slam it back down on your sensitive clit, earning a scream of pleasure from you.

He slipped a second finger into you, scissoring around your clit, as your desperate cries of "oh, oh baby! Fuck, fuck lewis-" were lost in the heat of the moment. He leaned his head down to your core, letting his tongue run along your slit too, before licking around it, collecting your wetness on his tongue, before letting it harshly circle your clit. You bucked up into his mouth, feeling his tongue wrap around your clit. He sucked the nub harshly, his fingers still moving in and out of you. "Oh God, Oh GOD, Lew-I- oh! Oh God!" Your broken moans were music to his ears as he sucked your clit into his mouth. You could feel a strange intensity growing in your stomach, feeling a lot stronger than your usual orgasm. The band in your tummy was threatening to snap, but you needed that something more to help it snap. That something more came when Lewis sucked your clit into his mouth, letting it rest in between his teeth, before flicking it with his tongue.

With a cry of "Oh fucking hell, Lew-" you camr gushing into his mouth, your juices coating his fingers and gushing onto his tongue, as he let you ride out your orgasm on his deadly skilled tongue. Well, he had got his wish. Your thighs were shaking around his head, as your body tried to come to terms with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your body. Looking down, you saw him with his painfully hard cock, grinding down on the sheet, as he let out a moan at the relief the bedsheets gave him. Raising an eyebrow, you patted your thigh, signaling him to come over to you. "You loved on me so well bubs. But I can see how hard you are. Do you want to use me to get off?" You asked, watching the effect you had on him. All he could do was nod, as you sat up on your knees. "Stand up" you ordered, getting up from the bed as well.

You walked over to the wall, letting your body rest against it. Somewhat confused, Lewis followed you, standing in the space between your legs. "I tried to get off using your thighs didn't I? I think you'll enjoy it as much as I did. So use me. Use my thigh. Get off" looking at you in pure shock, your boyfriend moved forward, groaning when you pushed your leg against his throbbing cock. He relished in the friction, slowly beginning to move against your leg, moaning when he began to rub against your leg. He began to hump your leg faster, as the pleasure began to build up in his body, before you reached your hand down to cup his length in your hands, moaning when you realized your fingers didn't quite meet. You ran your fingers along his length. You pumped him, letting your thumb circle his sensitive tip, eliciting a soft whine from him. You circled faster, moving down to your knees, and letting your tongue run up his shaft very softly. Above you, Lewis slammed his hands against the wall, groaning when you took him into your mouth.

But a part of him still wanted to cum inside when he was fucking you (in a condom, because wrap it before you tap it) so he pulled you back up, smirking when you whined. "I know baby, but I just really wanna fuck you now. Back on the bed please, unless you want me to take you here against this wall" practically running, you clambered onto the bed. You watched as Lewis pulled out a condom, ripping the packet open before climbing back on top of you. He let his hand rest on your hip, eyes temporarily losing some of the animalistic need that had been present in them. Leaning down, he connected your lips together in a kiss, a searing, intense kiss that took your breath away. "Ready love?" He asked, looking into your eyes, looking to see if there was even a slight hint that you didn't want this. But you did.

With a sudden jolt, he thrust himself into you, groaning when your warm walls clamped down on him. His hips thrust into you, starting off slow, letting you adjust to his massive length. "My sweet baby,taking me so well. Does it feel good?" You couldn't even respond, mouth agape, as his the pace of his thrusts increased. "Answer me" he said, suddenly stopping. Almost crying out at the loss of pleasure, you looked at him with desperation. "Yes yes, fuck it feels so good, please don't stop!" "Thats all you had to say baby" he said, before pushing in again, slowly. Then, he pulled back out. Looking at him in confusion, you gasped when he slammed back into you, a high pitched moan of "Lewis!" leaving your lips. He moved so that he had a better hold of your hips, rocking the both of you back and forth, the intensity of his thrusts was so much that the bed knocked back against the wall. What he wasn't expecting was for you to take his left thumb up to your mouth, running your tongue over it before sucking on it.

Moaning, he started thrusting into you even harder, shifting so that he was directly hitting your g spot. "Oh, God ! Oh fuck, Baby that feels so good please keep going keep-oh!" The cry that left your lips was so loud, you were sure Perrie in the room next to yours had heard you. "Fuck baby, you take me so well" Lewis said, as he nearly hammered your g spot. He was so, so damn close to cumming, and when you leant up and bit a sensitive spot on his neck, he came, gushing into the guard between you two, but he wanted you to cum to, so he reached down to pinch and rub your clit, still riding out his orgasm in you, moaning when you came with a scream. He winced when your core spasmed on his sensitive cock, and he pulled out slowly, before collapsing next to you. Panting, you curled up to him, letting your hand rest on his compass tattoo. "Okay that was Godlike" you said, earning a tired laugh from your lover.

"Yeah it really was. I missed you" he said, allowing you to nuzzle into his neck, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "I missed you too" you replied, kissing the tattoo. "I love you too" As you lay there together, still revelling in the moment, your phone buzzed. Reaching over to check it, you saw your groupchat with the girls flooding with messages.

-*-*-

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Y/N, I'm filing a noise complaint. 🍆

Jade ✨ - Pez 😂 let them be. It's been a while for her.

Leigh 🦋- She really got some tonight huh? 😏

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️- LOL she did !! And it was obviously some goooood 'some' *wink wink*

Jade ✨- I could hear em too, and Im on the other end of the hall.

Leigh 🦋 - I know I did too! Must be some damn good sex. 😏

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Go Y/N !!

Jade ✨ - Can't wait till she reads this.

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Are they still going?!

Leigh 🦋 - No 😂 she's reading the messages. Y/N!! Yoohoo!

You - yes I'm here 🖕🏽

Jade ✨ - Did you have fun babe 😏

You - ..... yes

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - babe you can't really say no because we heard you

You- Im not saying I didn't have fun. But you guys need to calm down.

Leigh 🦋 - But its funnn

You - okay byeeee ❤

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Going for a round 2 😏?

You - okay I said bye.

Leigh 🦋 - she is !!

Jade ✨ - Go babe !

You - I need to leave this group.

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - No we love you !! ❤

Leigh 🦋 - Yeah don't leave us ❤

Jade ✨- Don't leave meee ! ❤

You - Haha I'd never leave you girls ❤ now bye.

Jade ✨ - bye babe !

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - bye you sexy minx 😏

Leigh - bye hun 💙

*-*-*

Smiling to yourself, you put your phone away, to see Lewis looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "Who was it?" "Just the girls" you said, cuddling back up to him. "What did they say?" Giggling, you looked up to him and kissed his neck. "They said they're going to file a noise complaint. And they asked me if we were going for a round two" "Were we really that loud?" He asked, looking at you in surprise. "Yeah, even Leigh heard us and she's at the end of the hall!" "Damn" Lewis said laughing. "Well," he said, looking at you again, with a cheeky look in his eye, "they were right about one thing" "And what is that?" You asked, smiling at him mischievously. "We are going for a round two"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

@maxverstappenx @grandestrategia (because you are worth it 🦋💙)

#lewis hamilton #formula 1 #f1 #sir lewis #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x reader smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drivers imagines #f1 drivers smut #littlemix!reader #little mix 🙌🏼🦋#little mix

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orionwhispers · 3 years

Text

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals.

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby oneshot

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: The Man from the Sky

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: You were a Greek sea goddess, just enjoying a typical day of nothing when a strange new god dropped into your land.

Warnings: None yet. There is smut in future chapters already written. Will post more soon.

Notes: I’m aware that what we’d think of as ancient Greece well predates who we’d call the vikings and their like cruising around the seas. This doesn’t take place at the height of the Greek pantheon worship, but old enough in human history that some men still believed in both sets of deities.

Chapters: Next Chapter Here

My Masterlist

—————————

You dipped your feet a little deeper into the warm water as it lapped the edges of the rock you sat upon. The sea was calm today, and the wind gentle as the nymphs chatted around you about the usual things. A bit of gossip one had heard from a local river nymph, a new shipwreck one had found, status of a fish migration from another.

You wouldn’t exactly call it boring though, you specifically chose these more remote areas when you came ashore for this very reason. It was so much more unlikely for you to run afoul of mortals here, or even others of your own kind that you may not feel like putting on airs with at this very moment.

It was so quiet in fact, that you were considering getting up to go lay in the sand on the beach in a few minutes and enjoy a nice nap in the sunlight.

That was before the boom which echoed through the air all around you. Somewhat like thunder, but not quite as all the nymphs fell silent.

When nothing came after, you felt all their eyes then turning to you. Their voices piped back up soon enough, though the tones in them changed to all nerves now.

“Do you wish to leave, milady?”

“Could it be Zeus?”

“But it didn’t sound like him.”

“Is there a volcano nearby?”

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know what it was, I’ve never heard that sound.” You finally said, though now looking inward to the land. You were at least sure that the sound was not of the sea. But you refused to give in to the nymphs’ skittishness too quickly. And without real reason to leave, eventually you all did start to relax again.

Yet then came the cries. “Goddess, mistress please!” That cry absolutely was from the land as you looked in time to see the river nymph you’d met earlier in the day now running from the tree line and down onto the sands. She stumbled slightly, just before reaching you where the sea met the rocks.

She was panting, clearly having run some distance as she continued. “I’m so glad to still find you here,” She bowed slightly, only because she didn’t know you well enough to realize you didn’t require this.

“What is it?” You asked simply, honestly more curious now than anything else. What could she have seen that would strike her so alarming? Any nymph worth their ilk would know every creature, every natural occurrence, all that existed within their lands.

“There is a man in the forest, he came from the sky!” Yet she continued quickly, sure you would only think of Olympus. “But I do not recognize him as one of your own family. And his clothing, he is not of our territory. This I am sure, my goddess. I watched him only long enough to see that he was very angry. I am afraid of his intentions here.”

A man? But not truly a man. Mortals did not come from the sky.

“An angry god?” You said, now standing as you then stepped down from the rocks. The forest belonged to Artemis truthfully. But being this close to the sea, you thought that the older goddess would forgive you this if it came down to it. She would rather the nymphs be protected you were sure from any childish acts of a god’s wrath that may now come into play here.

You had brought no armor, the possibility of battle so far from your mind when you’d come ashore today. But that didn’t mean you travelled completely defenseless. “Bring me my spear please.” You requested of the sea nymphs.

Though they were still anxious, they responded dutifully, one sinking beneath the waves before reappearing with the glinting weapon in hand. It shone a brilliant silver, sea foam still running off its blue spear tip as she handed it to you out of the water.

“Show me the way, and I will investigate this stranger.” You spoke plainly, hopping down onto the sands as you strode barefoot towards the forest, spear in hand. “We will keep our distance as best we can, we don’t seek conflict, understood?”

“Yes, milady.” You heard, the sea nymphs staying behind you as the river nymph moved in front to lead you upward, the sand transitioning to rocky soil and the sparse vegetation and trees beginning to increase as you climbed the hillside.

For the sea nymphs, you could hear them losing their footing here and there in the loose soil, themselves of course far more adapted to swimming the ocean’s depths at your side rather than hiking up into the forests.

You did hope you were not putting any of them in danger. But if you felt they truly were in harm’s way, you would have no qualms in telling them to retreat back to the water at once.

“Up ahead,” The river nymph whispered to you, pointing towards a clearing you could now see leveling off in the distance. But the opening looked so strange with the density of the other trees now around you.

“Was that always there?” You asked her, knowing something unnatural when you saw it, even when this far from the water.

“No,” She confirmed. “When the sky opened up, it carved out the land as well. He appeared when that force receded.”

“Understood.” You replied, though in truth not really understanding at all as you motioned for all the others to proceed no further. You’d never seen something like this. “I will go alone. If he should attack me, please return to the sea to seek help.”

They fidgeted, looking unhappy but not arguing your choice. “Please be careful, goddess.”

You nodded, but kept on slowly. You tried to remember what you’d been taught as a little girl about stalking and hunting on land. So many moons ago, running through the forests with Artemis and at times Pan, being mentored before returning to the sea to your father, mother, and so many siblings.

But the closer you came, the more you realized that the stranger would likely not notice any sound of light footsteps approaching or ground shifting. As you neared, you saw his form pacing back and forth in the clearing, seemingly cursing to himself in a language that was not your own.

Yet it still sounded familiar. Abruptly you knew where you had heard a dialect like this before. It sounded so much like those voyagers from the northern seas. The ones with their longboats and course beards, sometimes with hair as red as fire as they fished and sang and fought.

And he did look as pale as them as well. But with hair like black of night, and a frame far more slender than the burly mortals you’d seen rowing those northern boats along. And just as the river nymph had warned, his clothing confused you as well. Rich green robe, but with black and gold as well. It was wholly foreign and exotic to you in its styling, as was he.

When she’d said a strange man had arrived, honestly you had also expected someone older in appearance. He looked quite youthful to be honest, even as his brow remained furrowed and his fists clenched at his sides.

And just when you thought his feet may actually cut a path in the earth from his agitated pacing, he finally slowed, then stopped all together.

This is when you froze as well, knowing you now had a decision to make. Should you keep to your hiding, just to hope he should eventually leave in whatever fashion he came? Or should you reveal yourself to question his identity and purpose here?

“Done spying yet, or do you intend to actually do something with that spear?” A cutting voice spoke abruptly to your side, so suddenly that you almost lost your footing, shocked as the same man emerged from behind other trees only feet from you.

But you still saw him in the clearing as well, at least you did momentarily before the image of him there dissolved, leaving only the form now nearest you.

“You speak my language?” Was all you questioned instead of answer him though, as he had said those last words only in your tongue. You also kept focusing on backing away as you chose to keep a safer distance. He was some sort of illusionist at least then, which could escalate the danger here very quickly if he made you lose your bearings.

And he was starting to circle you a bit you realized as he began to walk again. But you willed yourself to keep your spear at a neutral position, rather than aim at him, still not intending to provoke attack if it could be prevented. You had no idea what other strengths he might have, and your primary goal was still to keep the nymphs from getting caught in any crossfire.

“Not all of us are so uneducated,” He snapped back at you, still in your language, though you could detect that foreign accent underneath.

You were not wholly unused to rudeness though, yet it had been a very long time since you could recall being spoken to directly in such a manner. It was more the bickering between others in the palace that you were sometimes forced to be party to. Which was only another reason you often favored the relative isolation of the mortal world.

“You need not be so offended, stranger. I only came to see who had entered our land, and to protect my friends if need be.” You answered as reserved in tone as you could.

“Then you have done your duty, girl, and can now be gone. I came here to be alone. If I was actually intending to plunder this wasteland of nothingness, your little cohort never would have made it back to you to begin with.”

You stared, a little coldness entering your eyes then. So that was what had given you away. He’d already been aware of the river nymph to begin with, and had been waiting for someone to return the entire time while leaving that illusion of himself still in the clearing as distraction.

And he’d actually referred to you as ‘girl’. Did he really think you just one of the nymphs then? It was hard to say if he was intentionally trying to goad you, or if he really was so unfamiliar to not realize you for what you actually were.

You straightened a bit, replying, “Insults to our homeland aside, I will leave you to this quiet then, if you should at least tell me your name. You are clearly not of Olympus, and we still have right to know who it is who traverses into this particular land of mortals which we hold sovereignty over.”

He scoffed, clearly wishing to not speak to you even a moment longer. But in the way his chest puffed slightly, you thought it was only pride then that made him physically incapable of denying his identity.

He actually moved closer to you as well, that agitation still rising further in his voice. “Little fool, you stand before Loki! Son of Odin the Allfather. I am god of mischief, prince of Asgard. Your witless mortals should count their blessings that an Asgardian should ever see fit to even set foot here!”

You didn’t know if you’d been quick enough to mask the true surprise from your face. You had already assumed him a god. But never...never had you actually laid eyes on an Asgardian. They never came to this part of the world as far as you knew. And was he telling the truth? Was he really a son of Odin?

This stranger’s arrogance aside, if he were a child of Odin, you knew your own father would be furious with you if you were intentionally insulting now. Asgard and Olympus had never had the closest ties, but you were not enemies either. Asgard was honored by the mortals of the north, and Olympus still honored by those of the south, though perhaps not quite as much as the true olden days.

It took real will, but you bowed graciously to him in return. “It is an honor to meet you then, Loki, son of Odin.” As you straightened up, in his eyes you could see he was trying to judge you as sincere or not. But you just continued smoothly. “As promised, I shall leave you to your thoughts then. But I would be unmannered to not offer my assistance should you need a hostess in your time here as a guest in our land. My name is (Y/N), daughter of-”

You hesitated only the briefest moment, “of the sea,” is what you decided on though. Unlike Loki, you preferred a little anonymity with strangers. You didn’t wish to be targeted just for your lineage.

And with that, you turned, beginning to walk back towards the beach, even as you finished talking. “If you should need me, you need only find the sea’s edge and call for me. One of our creatures will hear you soon enough and seek me out.”

But some odd part of you regretted not being able to see his expression as you left. You wondered if you only would have seen more disdain and condescension at your offer.

Regardless, he said nothing else and soon enough you were back on the sand, the nymphs chittering in a mix of horror and awe around you.

“Who does he think he is, speaking to you that way!?”

“Do you really think he’s of Asgard? Shouldn’t we alert your father?”

“Why would he even come here? He seemed so bitter. Do you think they cast him out?”

“I’d cast him out, with a dirty attitude like that!”

You looked to the horizon, just taking a breath. “I don’t think we need to rush and tell my father just yet. But I do know where I want to go now.” You looked to the river nymph briefly though, “Please have those in the forest keep a distant eye on him. Should he leave or do anything else of note, please let us know.”

You glanced back to the sea nymphs then. “The rest of you return to the oceans. I’m going to Olympus, to the libraries there. I want to find out more about Asgard, to see if he is who he says he is. I’ll return to the water soon.”

They all nodded, “Yes, milady. Please let us know what you find!”

“I will,” you agreed, just watching them dissolve back into the waves.

Were you excited perhaps? Or just very curious? Nothing interesting in this way had happened in ages. You were determined to learn all you could on this new arrival.

—————————

The Olympians had been a little surprised to see you gracing the halls there. So many of your cousins had dropped in time and again to say hello, curious themselves of why you were out of the water this long and seemingly such a bookworm all of the sudden.

And you did read for days. All you could find on Asgard, on Odin, the Norse mortals, and their language. You found record that Odin had born two sons, honestly an oddly low number you thought in comparison to the many children of your own kings.

But there in these tomes, were those two names, Thor and Loki. Thor, god of thunder, amusing of course in comparison to Zeus, king of all, including lightning. But also Loki, god of mischief, just as he’d said.

You were surprised, but enthralled as you actually found a drawing of Loki within the book. Though not completely accurate you thought, you still recognized that type of clothing. The green and gold, and the pale skin and black hair with his icy blue eyes. You tilted your head a little, looking at the gold helmet he wore in the artist’s depiction, with long horns curving from it like those of a great beast.

Was he really a beast? Or just a too arrogant manchild? And why did you increasingly wish to find out?

—————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki #loki fluff #loki fandom #marvel fic #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x oc #loki x original female character #loki layfeyson imagine #loki layfeyson x reader

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lethargicsunlight · 3 years

Text

Dabi X SpookyQuirk!Reader "Conflagration" (mini) (Part 8)

(See the other parts on my directory! LINK)

It's happening again.

The fire.

Bark on a nearby tree has turned black, crisscrossed with cerulean streaks; like lightning, glowing from within. Embers spit and sizzle, arcing down to the scorched earth from the branches and dancing on the thermal winds that send the blaze into organic, breath-like spirals.

It's loud. You've never heard anything like it. The very air was as though bellowing with emotion; tearing it molecularly apart to feed a frenzied beast. Between the cacophony and the sapphire hues--you reach for serenity. To pull apart the pain that keeps you tethered, and move past it.

This was your third time visiting this place.

The second had been like the first, stuck and swallowed by the flames and waking up in a cold sweat.

But not this time.

Determined to change the fate of this vision, you let go of trying to struggle and sink into the scenery. It's wretched--the pain insurmountable despite how you remain absolutely lucid as something you can't fathom rakes through your flesh down to the bone. You can see and you can't see all at once.

Your eyes are closed, but you also know what the fire looks like--what the burning foliage looks like. You know there's a stream nearby, even though your body won't move towards it. You know there's someone that was supposed to be here..

But they never came.

It's their fault.

These thoughts aren't yours. These memories aren't yours. Finally everything seems to mount until at a fever pitch, and your essence finally blends in--syncing with the environment and becoming part of it.

Why didn't he come?!

If he had... just this once..!

I could've shown him!

It was a little boy's voice; echoing through the smoke that rose from burning trees and boiling streams. Broken, angry, and sad.

Finally, the world begins fading to black like dropping ink into a glass of water; transparent at first, but then its pitch darkness.

And at the vision's end, all you can feel is cold.

----

This time when you wake up, your body is buzzing. Your arms and chest quake uncontrollably, and you grab for your phone to check the time. It's 2:45 AM. You try to set it down carefully, but instead it clatters unto the wood of the bedside table.

You force yourself to rise and sit at the side of the bed; shaking hands massaging your scalp as you stare at the floor.

This wasn't a coincidence anymore.

At first, you thought this was some subconscious dialogue your own mind wanted to share with you; a warning as you kept finding yourself closer and closer with the League of Villains and Dabi in particular. Seeing as things had turned out, however.. there was no warning that could sway you. Your mind's previous interpretations of 'right' and 'wrong' had evolved, and you could no longer look at the world in the black and white spectrum as it wanted you to.

So why?

You can put two and two together. You were being burned, or rather, whoever you were projecting from had been. And, seeing as how Dabi was littered with burn scars..

It's really amazing you hadn't figured it out till now.

The broken and sad voice of the boy echoes in your mind and it takes a full second to convince yourself that it's not happening again as you fidget, and eventually stand up. There's no way you can go back to sleep now. Instead, you begin to get dressed. You needed to go outside and be somewhere other than this room.

Since you had shared a kiss with the elusive metal firebrand, you had both promised to be more open. Unfortunately though, while you had plenty of confessions for him.. he had little. Not for being secretive, but more because he spent most of his time focused on what needed to be done. He admitted to some personal pleasures, but they were far from anything he 'loved' or 'favored' for more than short-term. Whether that was hobbies or even people. He never kept anyone close, and even the League was often just at arms length.

When it came to his past though, he was always short about his answers and quick to go into his usual manifesto.

"So.." You start, a little awkwardly as the two of you are making headway back towards the base. It has almost felt like a game of twenty questions, as he relinquished to finally asking you about your life and quirk. 'What was it like as a kid?' 'Did you have parents?' 'Was it scary?'

"Those scars..? How did you get them?"

You can see a shift in his posture then, and his eyes narrow as he focuses forward. "Something that happened quite a while ago now. It's a reminder of my purpose.. but it's nothing more important than that."

Your eyebrows dip in, and you know it probably is more important than that, but you don't push. "Oh.."

There's a flash of guilt in his eyes as he recognizes the disappointment in your voice. "It's because of this hero society." He spits the venom laced words, trying to pivot your attention to something else. "They're hypocrites, and they need to be torn down from their shiny pedestals. They think they're invincible because this twisted society protects them.. but we're going to stop that."

He looks at you, eyes hard and hot with malice and determination. "Right..?" He asks you, as though his interpretation of 'we' was actually intended for the two of you alone, rather than the League and its entirety.

"Right."

You're still shaking as you make your way downstairs. You're surprised to find Shigaraki and Kurogiri both there; the latter at the bar and the former with his face lit up by a monitor in the corner.

"Y/n?" It's Kurogiri announcing your presence, fiery yellow eyes unreadable despite the concerned sound in his voice.

"Sorry. Had a hard time sleeping again, I just need some air." You say, making your way towards the exit.

The bell sounds a familiar jingle upon your departure, and you don't notice Shigaraki turning in his chair to stare at the door as it closes.

Kurogiri goes about making you some of that tea he mentioned weeks back, and eventually he brings it out to you; still piping hot and tasting of medicine. It helps, but you never bring yourself to admit to the misty man what you had been dreaming about. You make the excuse that you may have overused your quirk, or weren't used to the extended effects of your new abilities and it affected your sleep. That was good enough for him.

When you return to your room in the hopes of getting the last few hours of rest, you first stand outside of it--wondering if you should take a few steps more down the hall to a certain door. The discovery of your mutual feelings encouraged you--but it was still so new. You feared confronting him about the dreams might turn him away and make him cold again.

Instead you sluggishly return to bed. When chasing sleep didn't work, you grabbed the sketchbook from your bag and used the light on your phone to sketch the fire.

When the image felt empty, you added a silhouette of a boy in pain.

#dabi x reader #dabi x spookyquirk!reader #dabi fluff #touya x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #league of villains #halloween vibez #lov fanfic #shigaraki #kurogiri

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goldenlaquer · 3 years

Note

still sad about his death so… may I request a very desperate and longing sex as a goodbye with takasugi? also I've notice that you only have few content for this man. I'm glad that you want to write for him today😘 love ya!💕

This is the problem with Takasugi Fuckers; I ask for a request and instead, am given a reason to cry. But you are very gorgeous to me because of it— thank yeeeeww 😩😩💕

if this does not read like headcanons yes it do bc it doesn't yes it does ❤️

Takasugi Shinsuke NSFW Headcanons:

Somehow you’ve always known. How could you not? It’s the savage flame that burn the brightest. And the shortest. Time was never on your side, but you’ve ignored the gnawing feeling because facing it felt too much like giving up.

So this is it? The end? You demand answers despite already knowing what he refuses to tell you. He shrugs a shoulder in silence, his eye dipping close for a moment before opening, the meadow in it clear and calm.

Calmness before the terrible storm, you think as dread hollows into your very being.

That can’t be right. None of this is right. Takasugi is a fighter, a rager. He should be howling, or scheming, but the man before you sits idly, tapping the ash from his pipe and indifferently savoring the sight of the full moon hanging in the open window.

It’s like he’s already accepted the inevitable. Seeing it makes you want to rush to him. To cling to him and beg, like a child. But you hang back in hesitation, staring at him, too scared to make a sudden move, like he might disappear if startled. Sensing your thoughts, the corner of his mouth wrings up and Shinsuke huffs a barely-there sigh, before putting out his pipe and holding out his arm to you, palm outstretched. His eye flashes at you, an unspoken challenge.

“Come to me.” He says, and you need no other encouragement, you’re already running before he’s finished speaking.

It’s a graceless collision. Entangled feet and eager hands. He and you to the floor, clothes somehow divested before the impact to cushion your bodies. He falls laughing at you, amusement coloring his handsome face before his hand slips behind your nape, pulling you to meet his hungry mouth.

You choke back tears as he kisses you. If Shinsuke will not acknowledge it, then you won't either. But your eyes stay open, wide and glassy. You don’t want to miss anything; you want to remember this last precious moment in all of its entirety. Everything there is to remember about the Shinsuke that only you have gained the privilege to know. The firmness of his ravaging mouth, the taste of smoke and ash on his tongue. The black velvet of his hair, the smooth planes of his face, the stretch of his long fingers as he finds your entrance and pushes in, the low growl from his chest when he finds you wet and welcoming beyond belief.

then his cock filling you, burning, deep, fast, hard, fingertips worrying your pulsing clit, mewls spilling from your swollen lips, his hands bruising, your hair pulled out of the way for his teeth in the meat of your shoulder, his tongue in the hollow of your throat, his bandage unraveling, one eye— two, sweet smoke, green, moonlit scars, whispers of rumpled fabric, quiet groans, night breeze, perfection, this humbling wholesome perfection

There is too much to remember and simultaneously not enough. Never enough. But it all belongs to you anyway, this night, this moment, Shinsuke. Shinsuke. He belongs to you, he’s yours.

He's yours.

A sob lodges as a solid lump in your throat as you reach your end, trembling like a kitten around his cock as he spills in you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his lips lightly touched to your ear. He fits so perfectly to you, a cruelty. If you try to imagine anyone else in your arms, you’ll come up with aching emptiness— there will be no one else, you belong to Shinsuke as much as he does you.

After the spasms subside, you feel terror eclipse you despite your best efforts. You grip him tighter, digging your nails deep in his shoulders, so deep that you might've drawn blood, as if this will be enough to keep him to you, it has to be, but Shinsuke gives no indication of pain, stilling with his body pressed tight to you to let you pull yourself together, his cock still nestled between your folds.

Stay, a whisper comes from you, and it sounds dull to even your ears, because you already know the answer to this too.

Slowly, he lifts his head up to meet you.

Oh god, the look in his eye. How could you have ever mistaken him to be resigned when it burns so angry and bitter, the flinty moss iris a stormy force. This is a man still so unwilling to let go, a man still ready to fight unyielding fate. His thumb comes to trace the salty path of tears you didn't know have fallen, following down your cheek, to your quivering bottom lip. His eye narrows and his lips curl down into a snarl. You feel the weight of him as he presses your forehead with his.

Flashing eye stilled locked with yours, you feel a tremor in Shinsuke's shoulders and hands as he murmurs harshly, possessively, a promise. "Have you forgotten, you beautiful fool? In this life or the next, even if I have to crawl through dirt and shit and hell, I'll find you. Not even Enma himself could stop me from tearing the earth to reach you. It doesn't matter if you've taken another lover, I'll kill him, her, anyone who has touched you with their filthy hands, I'll kill. You can't get rid of me, I'm yours. You've agreed to this the moment you've given yourself to me. Don't forget."

Sorry, Takasugi said no goodbyes, those are the rules.

#gintama #gintama headcanons #gintama imagines #takasugi shinsuke #takasugi shinsuke x reader #takasugi shinsuke headcanon #not sfw #angst #answered ask

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zodiactalks · 3 years

Text

Love Life with Scorpio Woman & 5 Brutal Truths

Scorpio women are some of the most controversial signs out there, permanently inhabiting that spot between love them or hate them.

They're outspoken, argumentative, domineering, independent, and demanding; They're also seductive, passionate, charismatic, capable, and piping hot.

Scorpios may not be a fire sign, but they're still perfectly capable of burning you, which is one of the reasons why this controversial sign can be so misunderstood.

A relationship with a Scorpio woman may be an incredibly tempting thing, but it can also be a very challenging experience.

However, there is good news. A solid and healthy relationship with a Scorpio woman can be one of the most rewarding experiences in life. You just need to work to get it.

And how does one achieve it? By knowing these brutal truths about Scorpio women.

#1. You can't control them (And they'll try to control you.)

You can't control Scorpio women, that's just a fact of life. Any attempt at imposing your will or controlling their choices will result in an argument if you're lucky, and in the end of your relationship if you're not.

You can have as many different opinions as you want, but the moment she feels like you're trying to impose those opinions on her? It's game over. Not only will you lose the argument, but you'll probably lose their respect too.

Scorpios value their independence more than most other Zodiac signs, which alone could explain why they're so opposed to being controlled.

However, that's just half of the picture. The other half comes from Scorpio's desire to control.

While some signs are perfectly okay with you doing whatever you want as long as you let them do the same, that's not the case for Scorpio, and that applies to both men and women.

Scorpios will try to be in control at all times, and more often than not, they will.

They're cunning and charming enough to know how to be in control without you even realizing it, tipping the power balance until it rests firmly on their side.

While this can sound intimidating, if not downright scary, you'll be surprised it often works for couples.

When a Scorpio woman feels secure that she's the head of a relationship, she'll pour all of her efforts and energy into making that relationship work.

Scorpios are tremendously committed to their relationships and will try their best to make them work. They just know how to do it in their own terms. Not only because they're control freaks, but also because they do their best work when they feel secure in their position.

#2. They'll leave you out of many aspects of their lives.

Scorpios are very private individuals, and they'll try their best to keep the world and others from looking too closely at their private businesses, regardless of whether they have something to hide.

Simply put, they believe that some things are better kept private, and they rarely go around advertising it to others, be it in person or on social media.

This desire for privacy tends to extend to their family and love lives; though Scorpios are more likely to share their life with their loved ones, this doesn't mean they will.

In fact, they tend to operate on a strict need to know basis. If they feel like it's crucial for you to know how their day went, they'll tell you; If they know you'd like to hear something, they'll tell you.

If they don't feel like it's something you'd care about or don't feel like talking about it, though? Then they'll keep it to themselves. Period.

This particular trait can make a Scorpio woman come off as aloof and disinterested and can make their partners feel excluded. However, it's important to recognize that this lack of sharing doesn't mean your Scorpio lady doesn't trust you or doesn't love you.

She just doesn't want to bother you with things that don't involve you, and yes, you might think that anything that involves her involves you, but they literally don't see things that way.

They'd rather save their words and energy to tell you the things they know you need to hear.

#3. They're very demanding.

Scorpio women know what they want and when they want it, and they'll never settle for less than what they've decided they deserve.

When it comes to relationships, it means they'd rather be alone than to settle.

Scorpio women have a list of characteristics they want in their partners, and will carefully go through every item with their possible suitors, who will then be quickly discarded if they don't make the cut.

Yes, Scorpio women aren't likely to waste time in a relationship and "hope for the best." They like to place their bets when the odds are in their favor.

Rest assured, however, that while it may seem like Scorpio is asking too much from their possible partners, they're more than willing to give back exactly what they're asking for.

Most Scorpio women don't fool around when it comes to dating. If they choose to date, they commit to it, and if they choose someone they want to spend their life with, they'll move the earth and the sky to make that relationship work.

Scorpio women are some of the most loyal and dedicated lovers out there. They just need to make sure their efforts will be worth it, and to ensure that they're as picky as they come.

#4. They're scarily passionate.

While Scorpios are often described as cold and aloof, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Yes, if they don't care about you, they won't give you the time of the day, but if they do love you, and they want to spend the rest of their lives with you?

You'll be in for an extremely passionate relationship.

They're seductive, they're incredibly sexy, they're sensual, and they live to love their partners.

Remember, Scorpio women don't choose their partners lightly, so when they've found "the one" for them, they tend to cut loose and become a loving, adoring, devoted person.

Of course, all that passion does have its drawbacks, as Scorpio women can come off as a little too intense at times, and they're definitely a jealous bunch, but a relationship with a Scorpio woman is one that will never lack passion.

#5. They hold grudges forever.

You know this, we know this, they know this; Scorpio women can hold grudges forever, and it even seems like they enjoy doing it.

Let's be clear, this isn't a trait exclusive to Scorpio women, this is a Scorpio trait in general, but Scorpio women have elevated it to an art form.

If you're on their good side, it can be an absolutely hilarious thing to witness; Scorpio women are sharp, sarcastic, and brutally honest, so hearing them talk about the people they dislike can be an incredibly funny experience.

If you're on their bad side, however, you better beware.

While Scorpio women tend to be happy just holding a grudge and badmouthing others, if they see an opportunity to strike, they will.

Luckily, it's very hard to piss off a Scorpio woman, but if you've managed, or worse, if you've betrayed their trust, you can bet they'll never forget it.

#scorpio #Scorpio woman #Scorpio traits #Scorpio girl #Scorpio female #Scorpio love #Scorpio zodiac

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sukifans · 3 years

Note

May I request a Zuko x Reader with prompt number 2 from the 50 cliché prompts? I'm desperate for some fluff

SWEATSHIRT // zuko

WC: 1.8k

PROMPT: “your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and i couldn’t help but steal it”

WARNINGS: none

A/N: if you want fluff you came to the right place—tooth rotting fluff is my specialty. the title may or may not be a jacob sartorius reference. yall remember when tik tok was music.ly?

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Living with Sokka certainly had its ups and downs. On the one hand, he always kept things interesting—you never knew what you might come home to find, and he often made you laugh so hard you had tears streaming down your cheeks. He could also MacGyver just about anything that broke in your apartment (usually broken by him, however). You’d only had to call maintenance once, when you’d found him stuck under the kitchen sink, absolutely drenched, and shouting for help as water viciously sprayed from the pipes and the garbage disposal made some sort of ear-splitting shriek.

On the other hand, his mind moved a hundred miles a minute and he often forgot little things, like closing the kitchen cabinets or starting the dishwasher. One such thing he tended to forget was to finish his laundry. Often you’d find his still-wet clothes in the washer or his clean clothes in the dryer, having finished several hours ago. The two of you had worked out a deal: if Sokka did the dinner dishes and bought the snacks for Movie Fridays, you’d make sure the apartment ran smoothly despite his forgetfulness.

That’s how you found yourself dumping a load of his clothes onto his bed after finding them in the dryer while trying to do your own chores. You picked through the shirts and boxer briefs before settling on stealing a deep burgundy sweatshirt—an unspoken part of your deal was that if you found his clothes, you were allowed to steal a t-shirt or sweatshirt of your choosing because he knew you liked to wear the oversized tops on lazy days.

He came back later that night to find you standing in the kitchen, scrolling on your phone while you waited for your tea to steep. Your wet hair hung around your face and you wore the red hoodie with sleep shorts and thick, fuzzy socks.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his backpack on the ground by the door and kicking off his shoes.

“Hey.” You looked up at him as he bustled around the kitchen, tossing something into the microwave. “How was work?”

“Annoying,” he sighed in irritation, making you grin. He turned to you and frowned, reaching out to tug at the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “Where did you find that?”

“I stole it from your laundry, stupid. You left your stuff in the dryer again. I’ve never seen this one before, did you just get it?”

“Uh... yeah. Thanks for doing that for me.”

“Mhm.” You slipped your phone into the front pocket and cradled your mug. “Why do you ask? Do you want it back?”

“Nah, it’s okay. In fact, keep it. Red doesn’t suit me, I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought it.” He had a smirk on his face that made you very suspicious.

You raised an eyebrow while you slowly sipped your tea. “If you say so, Snoozles.” You flicked his arm as you passed him to retreat into your bedroom for the night. “Don’t forget to pick up your bag. And snacks for Friday night!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded through a mouthful of noodles.

You and your friends were gathered in the living room like every other Friday, this week to watch Jurassic Park (yet another classic that neither Aang nor Zuko had seen, much to everybody’s disbelief). Katara and Aang sat together on the armchair, Zuko sat between you and Sokka on the couch, and Toph sat on the floor with her back against the sofa next to her service dog, Badger. You had your legs thrown across the guys’ laps and all eyes (except Toph’s) in the room were glued to the screen. Well, for the most part—Zuko kept looking over at you all night. You tried to keep your attention on the dinosaurs, but you could feel him staring at you. Eventually you caught his eye and raised your eyebrows expectantly. He simply flushed and looked away. You furrowed your brow and turned back to the movie, pulling your hands inside the sleeves of Sokka’s red sweatshirt and sticking them in the pocket.

“Did you guys know that Spielberg wanted the raptors to be taller for the movie and then a few months after they wrapped shooting, paleontologists found a new species of raptor that actually fit the movie portrayal really well? They almost named it after him,” Sokka said with his mouth full of popcorn.

“That’s nice, Sokka,” Katara responded absently, obviously not listening.

“Yeah, and they made the T. Rex sounds with an alligat—oof!” He wheezed when you jabbed your foot into his stomach. “Asshole!”

“Pack it up, IMDB,” you huffed.

“I just thought it was interes—ouch, Toph!” he yelped when Toph punched his shin.

“Stop talking, I can’t hear anything!”

“Just watch it!”

“I can’t!” Toph barked. Sokka crossed his arms and slumped down, grumbling to himself. You and Zuko glanced over at each other and broke out in grins, pursing your lips to hold back your laughter.

As the movie progressed, you noticed the tension in Zuko’s shoulders. He had his jaw clenched throughout the whole scene with the kids trapped in the car with the T. Rex attacking. You nudged him with your knee and he turned to look at you.

“You scared, Zu?” you teased in a low voice, leaning forward to squeeze his bicep. “You want me to protect you from the dinos?”

He rolled his eyes but still lifted his arm, inviting you sit up and tuck yourself into his side. As you leaned against him he seemed to loosen up, settling into his seat and resting his head against yours. Sokka noticed this and looked around Zuko to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and very conspicuously, making your face heat up in embarrassment. Unfortunately, the idiot had caught wind of your crush on his best friend and had been relentlessly tormenting you about it ever since. You glared at him until he sat back, looking disgustingly smug.

After the movie finished, everyone got up to stretch and refill their drinks before the next one started. While talking with Toph in the kitchen, you noticed Zuko standing outside on the balcony by himself. You excused yourself from the conversation and made your way out to him while all your friends hooted in the background. It seemed everyone knew about your attraction to the boy, except for the boy himself.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping outside. He looked around at you and gave you a small smile that made your head spin. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “just getting some air. It’s getting hot in there with everyone in the room.”

You nodded and stood next to him to lean against the railing. After a few beats of silence, you could feel his stare on you again. You met his gaze curiously. “What’s up, Zu? You’ve been looking at me all night.”

“Nothing, it’s just—“ he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side as if inspecting you “—is that my sweatshirt?”

You frowned. “No, I took it from Sokka.”

“Lying bastard.” His eyes widened at your offended look when you rounded on him. “Not you! I—um, it is mine. I gave it to Sokka the other day and when I asked for it he insisted he already gave it back to me. The fucker gaslit me over a sweatshirt.”

“Sounds about right,” you giggled. “I’m sorry. I’ll give it back before you leave.”

He pulled at one of the drawstrings. “You can keep it, if you want. It’s, uh—“ he cleared his throat “—it looks better on you.”

You stood facing each other now, barely a breath away from being chest-to-chest. “I can’t take your sweatshirt.”

“You take Sokka’s all the time.”

“Yeah, because he always forgets his laundry in the machine. He owes me.” Zuko laughed a little at that, still fiddling with the string. You could feel your heart racing at his proximity. He sucked in a breath and seemed to brace himself for his next words.

“I kind of like how you look in my clothes, though. Might have to start leaving my stuff around here so you stop wearing Sokka’s.” The confidence in his voice was betrayed by the rising blush on his face that surely rivaled your own as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

Your lips parted to speak, but no words came out. All you could squeak out was a soft, “Zuko,” when he raised his hand to brush a loose piece of hair back behind your ear. You felt frozen, rooted to the spot, when his fingertips grazed your cheekbone. His hand lingered there, palm radiating heat into your already flushed cheeks.

“I—“ he pulled his hand back and chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly “—sorry.”

“For what?” you asked.

“I don’t know.” You grinned at each other and in that moment it could’ve been just you and Zuko left on the planet and it wouldn’t’ve mattered; everything you wanted and needed was right there in front of you, if you were bold enough to take that final step toward it.

“Zuko—“

“Hey, we—oh!“ Both of you whipped your heads around when the door slid open to reveal Aang standing there. His whole face went red and he laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry! Just wanted to tell you guys we were gonna start the movie, but no rush! Take your time!” He started to back away and you felt yourself release from Zuko’s magnetic pull now that your small bubble had been invaded.

“It’s okay, Aang.” You smiled gently at your friend and started to make your way back inside. “We were about to head in anyways.”

Aang shot Zuko an apologetic look before nodding and hurrying away. Zuko couldn’t find it in himself to be bitter about the ruined moment when you reached out towards him and gazed up at him with those warm, bright eyes. “You coming, Zu?”

“Yeah, right behind you.” He took your outstretched hand and laced your fingers together, squeezing his palm against yours.

Maybe you weren’t the last people on Earth, and maybe you hadn’t taken that leap just yet, but something between you two shifted and finally clicked into place out there on that balcony. Everything would work out just fine—he knew it in the way you kept your fingers slotted perfectly between his as Jaws played on the television, and in the way you quickly rose onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek in the hallway before he left. He couldn’t wipe the dreamy little smile off his face for the rest of the night, even as he laid awake in bed thinking about you.

Yeah; everything would be just fine.

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @simpinforsukka @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula

ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @hypercakeiii @sher-lockedmarvel @emeraldpotato @september-ctd

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #zuko fic #zuko fluff #zuko #mine #requests #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar fic #atla x reader #x reader #zuko imagine

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moonbeamwritings · 3 years

Note

Are requests still open because may I have one for Part 3 Jotaro? Part of this is stemming from an alignment chart I found with one category being mythological creatures and the other location types. After Jotaro's battle with Dio, the petty vampire curses him to become an aquatic werewolf like beast stripping what's left of a normal life he could have. The only way to break it is true love and thus the reader comes into play. Gen-neutral and its your choice whether its SFW or NSFW. Thank you!

ooo this is very unique~ !! i’m so sorry i’ve been keeping this one waiting! i hope this is along the line of what you were looking for and that you enjoy it and thank you for sending in !! ❤️

part 3 jotaro and a curse only the reader can break

Jotaro could rationalize the existence of stands, that hadn’t been much of an issue. He could also at least attempt to understand how vampires like Dio could actually be roaming the Earth, but Jotaro, for the life of him, could not wrap his head around his current predicament.

Right before the end of the battle with Dio, the bastard had managed to mutter some sort of incantation under his breath, sending Jotaro’s body through a horrific transformation. It all left him feeling as if his nerves were on fire, body sprouting thick fur and a tail, of all things. Laying there, flat on his back on the pavement somewhere in Cairo, he watched as whatever sense of normalcy he had established during the trip to Egypt melted away, replaced by long, sharp claws and fur, by a curse.

The Speedwagon Foundation was quick to jump into action, transporting Jotaro to the sea while they desperately searched for a solution. The old man was no more help than Jotaro expected as he paced the beach, ranting and raving, but not coming to any ideas or conclusions. Throughout the whole ordeal, Jotaro found solace in you, just as he had during the rest of the trip.

You were supportive, taking time out of your day to help where you could and resting along the shoreline, keeping Jotaro company as he wasted away in the sea. As ridiculous as his current affliction was, being able to see you smile and offer your support got him through the worst of days. You didn’t shy away from him, even in this form, and he didn’t think he would ever be able to repay you.

“The Speedwagon Foundation told me they’re still rifling through all of those books in Dio’s library,” you explained to Jotaro, delicate fingers dancing along the water’s surface inches from his face, “Maybe they’ll come up with something that can help.”

Jotaro wasn’t exactly not listening to you, really he wasn’t. He simply found himself getting lost in the gentle movement of your hand, in the soft way your lips moved as you spoke. If he missed a few of your words along the way, then so be it.

“I hope so.” He finally muttered, shifting his eyes away from you in favor of watching the slow movements of the water around him.

The books did little to help.

You’d come along the following day, news falling from your lips in a disappointed, deflated tone. The books hadn’t led to much of anything, complicating their investigation more so than helping it. Jotaro’s chest heaved with a heavy sigh, doubt starting to settle deep in his lungs. He didn’t think he was a negative person, the trip to Egypt and his often unwavering determination proved that much, but as the weeks turned to months, Jotaro began to think that he would be stuck in this body forever.

“You know,” you said from where you rested back against a rock, feet swishing gently in the water before you, “Polnareff said something funny last night.”

“That’s new,” Jotaro piped up, a scoff leaving his mouth.

He listened as a laugh bubbled up from your throat, short and sweet. A smile played on the corners of his lips at the sound.

“Hey, don’t be mean. He made a good point, as silly as it sounded.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He said what you were going through reminded him of a book his sister used to read when they were kids. Something about a curse and true love’s kiss. You know how it goes.”

Jotaro heard another sheepish, almost nervous, chuckle leave your lips.

“He was thinking that could be your situation. Stupid, right?”

The silence in the air felt heavy as it lingered. In all honesty, Jotaro had thought the same just the other night as well as he reflected on the sappy love stories his mom made him watch as a kid. Surely it wouldn’t be that simple, right?

Jotaro had felt love creeping up his spine and settling in the back of his mind since the first time he saw you laugh, your whole body shaking with the force of it, face illuminated by the combined glow of the stars and the warm fire. He’d acknowledged that it was silly then, to foster any sort of relationship when either of you could die at any given moment. With Dio gone, and a curse to break, what more did he have to lose?

“Is this your roundabout way of asking to kiss me?” Jotaro teased, rough, furry hands reaching out to poke and prod at your swinging feet.

His words and actions had you shooting up from the position you were in, hands moving in a flurry as you attempted to explain yourself, “No! That’s not what I meant at all! I was just saying-”

With a roll of his eyes and a sigh, Jotaro brought a large, wet hand up to cradle your face, connect his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

The moment you returned the kiss, Jotaro began to feel that familiar fire alight in his chest, his nerves tingling under the pressure of the now broken curse. His claws retracted, the fur covering his body turned back to skin, tail shifted back into legs.

As you pulled away, Jotaro leaned more of his weight onto the rock you were still sitting on, body tired and sore, but finally free. A laugh emerged from deep in his chest as he tried to catch his breath, wet hair dripping down onto your forehead as he kissed you once more.

“True love’s kiss, huh? Good grief.”

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro imagine #jotaro kujo imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #moonbeam answers

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

@guqin-and-flute I hope you don’t mind that I jumped in on this one? It happened to hit my inspiration bone just right so I wrote a quick one-shot while procrastinating my college assignments.

(Edit: now on my AO3, titled, “You’ll Have To Trust Me”)

In retrospect, Nie Mingjue supposes, he should have known that it would just be their luck - his luck, really - that they would run into something like this.

Leave it to Jin Guangyao to find the perfect excuse for the three of them to get away from the overwhelming crush of their duties for a night only to just so happen to walk right into a fucking trap that has conveniently left himself and Lan Xichen blinded and Jin Guangyao apparently untouched.

Oh not that he’ll ever get Lan Xichen to believe it was a trap, of course. It was an ‘honest mistake’ as far as he’s concerned, which he’s currently reassuring Jin Guangyao of throughout all the other man’s outwardly anxious fretting.

“Er-ge are you really sure you’re alright? You’re not hurt anywhere?”

“A-Yao -” Lan Xichen’s voice is soft and warm and even though the kindness isn’t even directed at him it still feels like a warmed blanket around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. Lan Xichen is just...like that. “I promise I’m alright, not even a scratch.”

There’s a pause and then a tentative, “Da-ge?” from much closer than he would have expected. He doesn’t flinch though. He won’t give Jin Guangyao the satisfaction.

“What?” he replies, his tone as curt as Lan Xichen’s was affectionate. He can practically feel the disapproval radiating off of Lan Xichen in response but that isn’t anything new with their new..situation. Nie Mingjue has already made his peace with the fact that he is likely going to spend the rest of his life upsetting his oldest friend in some way or another.

“You’re injured.”

“I know that!”

“Mingjue-xiong? You’re hurt?” Lan Xichen suddenly pipes up and Nie Mingjue knows that the only reason there’s not an accompanying rustle of clothing and a gentle touch on his arm is because Lan Xichen is as sightless as he is at the moment and likely afraid to move too much.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Will you let me look at it?”

Nie Mingjue instinctively pulls his injured leg closer to himself and away from Jin Guangyao, biting his tongue instead of groaning when something grinds under the skin in a spot where he’s pretty sure nothing’s supposed to actually move.

“It’s fine. We just need to figure out how to break this fucking curse before something comes and eats us,” he grunts once he’s sure he can talk without screaming, dull flares of pain dragging up and down his entire left side, from toes to shoulder and back down again.

“Mingjue-xiong just let him look at it,” Lan Xichen sighs. “We’re not going anywhere for awhile anyway until we figure out how to do this safely.”

Nie Mingjue holds out in silence for another two minutes (he counts) before he relents with a nod. For a long moment he’s able to maintain the hope that Jin Guangyao wasn’t watching him to see it, but then there’s a quiet shuffling and small, cool hands are lifting the suspiciously sticky fabric of his trousers to take a look at his leg.

“What’s wrong? How bad is it?” Lan Xichen asks when Jin Guangyao sucks in a gasp and Nie Mingjue glares into the middle distance that he can’t fucking see because this spirit that Jin Guangyao just had to chase tonight blinded them and now he’s broken his fucking leg because of it. And he’s still somehow the only person in the world who doesn’t trust the oh-so-accommodating, oh-so-polite, oh-so-obsequious Jin Fucking Guangyao, so the chances that his accusations of trickery and malicious intent will be listened to are little to none.

He’s pissed, basically.

“That fucking HURTS Meng Yao!” he snaps, his voice too loud and sharp in his frustration at the burst of pain from whatever Jin Guangyao had just done to his leg. His hands go still and this time the quiet gasp comes from Lan Xichen.

“Mingjue-xiong,” he chastises as Jin Guangyao’s hands slowly pull away from his skin.

“It’s alright, er-ge,” he demurs and that tone gets under Nie Mingjue’s skin even more, that kicked puppy tone, that ‘I’m used to the world not respecting me’ tone that he always uses to get his way with Lan Xichen. Whether he does it on purpose or not (Nie Mingjue fucking knows he does) it’s exactly the right way to get Lan Xichen’s sense of propriety involved and suddenly Nie Mingjue is the one in the wrong for using his old name rather than his legitimized one. As if that name isn’t a slap in Jin Guangyao’s face all on its own, but no one but Nie Mingjue even seems to notice that bit. “His leg is broken and it’s gone through the skin. I need to go find something to make a splint with, I’ll do my best to stay within earshot.”

“Alright A-Yao,” Lan Xichen murmurs. “We’ll stay right here.” His smile is audible despite their circumstances and Nie Mingjue takes a deep breath in, squeezing his unseeing eyes shut. His anger won’t find a home here - not with these two as his companions practically drooling on each other with all their gooey affection in their own little world - but he doesn’t want to take it out on Lan Xichen anyways. He’s got quite a few things he’d like to take out on Jin Guangyao, but that would only end up hurting Lan Xichen as well, and his childhood friend doesn’t deserve that.

Jin Guangyao’s footsteps retreat through the underbrush, growing fainter and fainter until there’s nothing to hear but the wind through the trees.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen starts, his lecturing voice out in full force.

“Don’t. I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, Xichen! I know! I got it, it was just a slip of the tongue! Is your precious A-Yao the only one here allowed to make ‘an honest mistake’?!”

“Alright.”

They lapse into silence then, Nie Mingjue still breathing too fast and too hard but unable to stop. He’s angry, he’s in pain, and he’ll never admit it out loud but he’s afraid. Ever since he had woken up in the Scorching Sun Palace to find Lan Xichen defending Meng Yao so fiercely he had known he couldn’t count on Lan Xichen’s protection from the other, which meant that if he was to keep himself safe from Jin Guangyao’s scheming mind and murderous hands he would have to always maintain the upper hand. He can’t do that while injured and blinded and with Lan Xichen similarly incapacitated, the pair of them suddenly entirely reliant on Jin Guangyao.

It would be so easy for Jin Guangyao to arrange for an unfortunate ‘accident’ and get rid of him. He’d watched the man murder with the intention to frame someone else for his deeds. If he was willing to do it once, who’s to say he won’t be willing to do it again?

He’s on his own, and he honestly can’t say he enjoys the feeling.

“A-Yao?” Lan Xichen calls a few quiet minutes later, startling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“I’m still here, er-ge,” comes the faint call from some distance away and Nie Mingjue hears a few dry leaves rustle as Lan Xichen shifts his weight, presumably turning in his direction even though he can’t see Jin Guangyao out in the trees. “It’s difficult finding sticks that are both as long as da-ge needs and as strong and also straight enough to be a splint. Are you both still alright?”

“Yes. Take your time,” Lan Xichen replies and then things are quiet again.

“You can’t really think this is a coincidence,” Nie Mingjue finally mutters, low enough not to carry too far beyond their spot. “Xichen, please. Just entertain the idea that this is all on purpose.”

“I can’t, Mingjue-xiong, I’m sorry.” And he really does sound remorseful about that, because of course he does. “I trust A-Yao. Accidents happen on night hunts all the time, and we three are not infallible. I am only relieved that he remains unaffected by this curse so that we have hopes of getting out of here safely.”

“And just why do you think he wasn’t affected?” Nie Mingjue can’t resist asking, beginning to become desperate to understand Lan Xichen’s way of thinking that can keep him from becoming in the least bit suspicious.

“We shielded him from it, of course.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did, Mingjue-xiong. You and I both.”

Nie Mingjue mentally replays the last moments before the world had gone dark. They’d been pursuing the spirit as it fled back towards where it had come from, all three of them running as fast as they could over unfamiliar, heavily wooded terrain. He’d seen the spirit whip back at the last moment, diving towards them rather than back into a stone hut nearly completely crumbled under moss. He remembers shouting for Lan Xichen to watch out and -

Yanking Jin Guangyao behind himself as he skidded to a stop next to Lan Xichen just in time for the spirit to slam into both of their chests and knock them all backwards.

He remembers the moments after that as well, his vision fading quicker than a candle guttering out. He had shoved Jin Guangyao at Lan Xichen just before everything had gone completely dark and his momentum had carried him over the edge of a small ravine. He had been the only one to fall into it, the others had joined him almost immediately after, but under their own power.

Nie Mingjue growled low in his throat and pounded a fist against the soft earth beneath him once, irritated with himself for the moment of weakness; for his instinct to protect Jin Guangyao being stronger than anything else in him when it came right down to it.

He can’t admit to it.

“He’s smaller than us and he was lagging behind while we ran. We were in his way when the spirit turned and he couldn’t get around us, that’s all there is to it. We weren’t protecting him.”

“Alright,” Lan Xichen agrees far too easily and it’s clear by the tone of his voice that he knows Nie Mingjue is just trying to save face. He both loves and hates that knowing tone, as well as the fact that Lan Xichen doesn’t press him to tell the truth that they both know.

Nie Mingjue is thankfully saved from any further humiliation by footsteps returning through the brush and he sits up a little straighter, breath quickening again as he braces himself for the pain of having his leg shifted and splinted that he knows is imminent.

“I was looking for a crutch but nothing around here is sturdy enough for you, da-ge, you’ll probably have to lean on er-ge to walk,” Jin Guangyao supplies as he comes closer, stopping a few steps away. There’s the clatter of a few sticks being set down on the ground close to his leg and he forces himself not to flinch away from it. The movement would only hurt and it won’t stop what’s about to happen, so he holds himself still with a grim determination.

Jin Guangyao settles down near him again and his hands are back on his skin, his touch still featherlight and cool as he shifts his trousers up over his knee but now there’s a slight trembling in his fingers that Nie Mingjue can feel when the man places a hand flat on his shin just below his knee.

“I’m sorry, da-ge,” he whispers for Nie Mingjue’s ears alone. He doesn’t have a chance to reply before he’s letting loose a primal shout of pain that he has absolutely no control over whatsoever. He bites out a litany of swears next, his head swimming and unseeing eyes brimming with tears as the nearly unbearable flare of pain settles again.

“Mingjue!” Lan Xichen shouts and there’s the sound of movement from his direction.

“Over here, er-ge, take my hand. Don’t get too much closer or you’ll hit his leg.”

“A-Yao, give me one of his hands.”

There’s a bit of shuffling, the touch of two shaking fingers under his wrist, and then Jin Guangyao’s hesitant touch is replaced by the anxious surety of both of Lan Xichen’s surprisingly warm hands wrapping around his palm. He curls his fingers tightly around Lan Xichen’s palm in return, both to reassure him as well as to have something to hold onto as Jin Guangyao starts getting his leg splinted, every single touch against his skin like a line of throbbing fire. Somehow it hurts more when he can’t see what’s happening, can’t anticipate the next touch.

The fire starts to ease as he realizes Lan Xichen is passing him some of his own qi, two of his fingertips pressed firmly against the pulse point on his wrist. The thread of it is soothing, silvery blue where it slips along his meridians. It leaves the scent of fresh pine and the peculiar crispness of mountain air in his nose and on the back of his tongue in its wake as it chases away the sharpest pains and soothes the duller ones into a manageable ache.

None of them talk while Jin Guangyao methodically binds his leg and Lan Xichen tends to his pains as best as he can. When it’s finished Nie Mingjue hears Jin Guangyao murmur for Lan Xichen to stop before he exhausts himself too much to travel.

“I need you both to listen to me very carefully,” Jin Guangyao says, his tone perfectly even.

“Yes yes we know, you get to order us around to get us out of here - how lucky for you,” Nie Mingjue snaps, patience worn down to the absolute thinnest it’s been since he had been driven to threaten Jin Guangyao’s life in Qishan.

“No, I meant...well, yes. But..” Jin Guangyao sighs then, a heavy, world-weary thing. It’s been a very very long time since he’s heard Jin Guangyao - normally so silver-tongued - become tongue-tied over anything. He sounds exhausted.

Nie Mingjue is..dismayed but not surprised to realize that he can still be manipulated so easily by the other even when he can’t see him. Not that he’ll ever let on, of course, but that doesn’t mean the twinge of guilt at being part of the cause of that exhaustion isn’t real. “Let’s just get out of here first, I suppose. I have something to tell you when we return to the inn, and you’ll both have to listen to me. You’ll have to trust me.”

“We trust you, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen replies instantly. Both Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao’s silences speak volumes about what they think about that, but they both wisely say nothing. If there’s one thing the pair of them can agree on anymore it’s that Lan Xichen should be allowed to keep up his optimistic illusions about the world for as long as they can be maintained. He should always get to believe the best in everybody like he wants to.

Getting Nie Mingjue standing and propped up against Lan Xichen’s side for the return journey leaves him sweating and trembling but upright, and able to walk. Lan Xichen holds his free hand out to hold Jin Guangyao’s belt, Jin Guangyao warns them of any obstacles in their path, and Nie Mingjue does his best not to pass out.

They follow Jin Guangyao in this way back the way they had come, and while Nie Mingjue is constantly braced for something else to go wrong, after a small eternity they finally manage to return to the inn without further injury.

They agree to gather in Lan Xichen’s room, Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue sitting on the bed and facing Jin Guangyao’s general direction, and Jin Guangyao begins to talk.

“Just trust me,” he reminds them once again. “There are a few things you should know.”

----

In the morning, a scrap of post is sent from the smallest, cheapest inn of a small town that sits precariously on the edge of the forest on the far border of Lanling. The letter is bound for the heart of the territory under the control of the Jin’s, and Jin money is spared for the extra expense of ensuring it will arrive as quickly as it can.

The letter will reach Jin Guangshan in the afternoon just in time for his usual break for tea, and Jin Guangshan will sit on his throne in Jinlintai to read Jin Guangyao’s report that the plot Jin Guangshan had devised has worked to perfection, that Qinghe Nie will no longer be a threat to his position. That he is retreating to Gusu to ostensibly grieve with his remaining sworn brother while doing his best to gain whatever secrets he can from their library to further secure their position at the top of the world.

Shortly after the letter begins its hurried journey to Jinlintai, three heavily cloaked figures - two tall, one short; one limping, one supporting, and one guiding - quietly slip away to begin their own journey in the opposite direction, bound for the safety that only the Gusu Lan can provide to shelter them while they plan just what, exactly, the three of them are going to do next.

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #Nie Mingjue #Lan Xichen #Jin Guangyao #Definitely not my fixit verse lol #But I guess....a different kind????#idk I wasn't really planning anything when I started but I guess I accidentally made it a fix it by breaking it a little bit first #guqin-and-flute

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bailey-reaper · 3 years

Note

Do a drabble on Barok’s and his s/o wedding day and night.

The Ring of Truth

Notes: Hmmm! This is another of those scenarios that would no doubt differ depending on S/O's gender and, possibly, their standing in society. I'm going to proceed on the assumption that the wedding is a private affair that is conducted in a rather unconventional manner.

Also, sorry anon, I didn't end up writing about the wedding night – perhaps another time!

In this instance, S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: fluff, marriage, Herlock Sholmes

"You know," Herlock Sholmes began, causing Barok to surreptitiously roll his eyes, "It just so happens that I'm a recognised member of the clergy!"

That one caused a small ripple of shock at the table, "Are you really?" Barok replied dryly, because no doubt this was going to form part of a 'witty' (and lengthy) anecdote that would drone on and on until the teller forgot what he was talking about and changed to some other inane subject.

"Yes, indeed," Sholmes said, taking a brief puff on his pipe, "I was ordained into the priesthood as thanks for my swift, discreet solving of a little matter that was upsetting Vatican City..."

"Oh Mr. Sholmes you simply must tell us more!" Susato chimed in, clasping her hands together in delight.

"Why I'd love to, my dear madam."

"Yes," Barok muttered, "There's nothing you love more than the sound of your own voice..."

"Rather a rude quip, Mr. Reaper, and from a lawyer no less!"

"At least when I talk it holds some relevance to it."

"Hmmm, I suspect what I say here will hold relevance some day down the line..."

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

And, much to Barok's disbelief, Sholme's words held true when he found himself in need of someone to officiate a ceremony between him and his beloved. He'd abandoned his faith a long while ago, when Klint died, and he did not care to rejoin a flock again.

While his beloved had never been much for faith and was similarly without a Parish Church to call theirs. In such circumstances, Barok had finally cast his mind back to the irksome detective's declaration to the effect that he was a 'member of the clergy'.

Any ceremony they conducted would be unofficial, of course, given their circumstances, but they were both keen to be married in a symbolic sense. An exchange of rings and words. It was not something Barok had thought he wanted, but a growing part of him had become deeply keen on the idea of a 'wedding' with his beloved.

So, much to his chagrin, he found himself calling at 211B Baker Street to speak to Sholmes.

"My dear man!" Sholmes exclaimed excitedly, "A wedding is a truly auspicious affair, and the wedding of a Reaper must be doubly so in some realm or another!"

Barok peered at the detective, lips drawn into a thin line, "Answer the question, man, will you officiate or not?"

"Nothing would delight me more! Now, might I suggest the perfect venue?"

". . . . You may suggest what you like, but I remain at liberty to reject your request on account of it no doubt being utterly ridiculous."

"Come now, Mr. Reaper, I'm not about to suggest you be wed in a hot air balloon or something of that nature! Though, come to think of it, that would be quite a thrilling way in which to 'tie the knot' haha!"

". . . . I'm starting to lose my patience, Sholmes..."

"Running out of wine, are we?"

"That's neither here nor there," Barok observed, taking a sip of wine, "Though it does mean that casting this hallowed chalice at your head would be a more worthwhile use for it..."

"Yes, yes, no doubt you've the right of it, sir!" it seemed nothing could affect the detective's mood when his spirits were high, not even the threat of violence from the Reaper himself, "Anyway, as I was saying: I think a ceremony, right here, in Baker Street, would be perfect. There can be no more romantic venue than the living quarters of the greatest and most famous detective of all time! And the pleasure can be yours, my good fellow, for the nominal fee of one hundred shillings!"

A long silence drew out between the two men: Herlock stood over his guest, leaning in, with a smile on his face and hands out in fanfare while Barok stared at his host, unblinking, before finishing what remained in his chalice.

"No," he finally and bluntly replied, "I have a perfectly attractive ancestral home that can serve as a venue. Naturally, I will permit you the use of one of the cottages within the estate, and you may remain for a spell afterward on holiday if you so wish... but I won't be renting your... eccentric premises. I cannot think of a more chaotic and unappealing place to host a wedding."

Sholmes sighed, "Ah... it must be quite a challenge to be so perpetually dour! Still, I admire your tenacity Mr. Reaper!"

"... Thank you, it comes naturally."

"Well, it is settled, give me a date and time and I shall be there posthaste to wed you and your sweetheart in holy matrimony? Unholy matrimony? Oh but wait... what on earth will happen when you reach the 'til death do us part' section of the vows? Being a reaper and all!" Sholmes laughed with delight as he contemplated the absurdity of a reaper being wed.

"I'll see myself out," Barok said, leaving the detective to his amusement.

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

A few months later, the date of the wedding arrived.

In somewhat unconventional fashion, Barok had selected his lawyerly nemesis, Ryūnosuke Naruhodō, to be his best man. The gesture was not lost on the young man, who took to it with his usual furtive vigour.

"Would you stop looking around like with quite such a terrified look in your eyes?" the groom said, glaring at the best man as he stood there trembling, "Anyone would think it was you getting married."

"Well... uh... yes I... um, sorry," Ryūnosuke eventually managed, "... I suppose I'm still a little surprised that you would ask me, of all people, to be your best man... not least of all given that I have no idea how British wedding ceremonies work."

"Well, happily for you this is far from a conventional one," Barok replied, "Who knows what will go wrong with that idiot detective in charge of proceedings..." it was strangely freeing, however, to know that nothing hinged on this. There were no expectant aristocrats, waiting for anything to go wrong so that they could then gossip about it for years to come; nor extended relatives to have to placate. The intimacy of the ceremony meant that the only thing Barok cared about was his beloved enjoying their day, which was a good concern to have.

"And as for choosing you to be my best man," he continued, "I think you've earned at least that much... Were it not for you, I'd no doubt be dead or transported by now."

It was still sobering to think that he'd almost been convicted of murder...

"... I'm sure you would have managed your own defence, but, I'm glad that we could all reach the truth."

"Yes..." it had been deeply cathartic in its way, perhaps just a touch more so than it had been soul shattering. If not for Ryūnosuke's impressive defence and his beloved's support, Barok was unsure what sort of a mess he would have become post-trial.

The ordeal had only cemented in his mind that this person was the one he wanted to be with for the rest of his life – however long that might be. He paused as he looked down at the Prosecutor's badge he'd affixed to his suit; Klint's badge. His fingers grazed the finely enameled surface. The fact that his older brother was not here to see him wed was a tragic one, but, he had come to the conclusion that he needed to move forward rather than perpetually looking back.

No doubt Klint would want him to enjoy his day, so he ought to honour that wish.

"Uh... Lord van Zieks?" he realised Ryūnosuke was speaking.

"... You may call me Barok, Mr. Naruhodō."

"Oh... uh..." clearly that had startled him, "In... that case, please call me 'Ryūnosuke'."

"... Very well. What is it, Ryūnosuke?"

"It's time for the ceremony."

Barok took a deep breath and nodded, "... Let's go, then," it had been a long while since he felt the flutter of nerves quite like this; in fact, it reminded him of the first time he stood in a court during his studies for a mock trial full of nervous energy.

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

To his credit, Sholmes was surprisingly focused and capable in his capacity as an officiator. Barok had to give him credit for that. The proceedings were conducted with an air of sobering warmth and not even a snicker at the 'til death do you part' section. Even the exchange of rings went off without a hitch.

It was all going so well, until––

"I now pronounce you Reaper and Spouse, you may now kiss the demigod."

Barok shot a fierce glare at Sholmes, but was quickly and completely distracted by his beloved's arms around him and their lips on his. He had to lift them up so that they could reach his mouth, but that was easily and readily achieved.

Finally they parted, Barok looking at his love in a delighted stupour, "... Well," he murmured after a few moments pause, "It seems we're now wed..."

"Yes," they replied, with a beaming smile and tears rolling down their cheeks, "And I couldn't be happier..."

It took him a moment to realise that his own eyes were glassy with tears as he looked down at his delighted love; his spouse, "Nor I... You have brought such light into my life, my beloved... it may sound trite, but it's true."

"I love you, Barok," they held him close while he returned the hold in kind; everything else melting into the background as he focused on the love of his life.

"I love you too..."

#barok van zieks #request #Barok x Ors #herlock sholmes #fluff

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mikwrites-archive · 3 years

Text

find you.

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader genre: celestial au, strangers to lovers, hoshi has amnesia, kinda car crash? fluff, angst warnings: none! wc: 2.3k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so long and i just finished even though i’m not entirely happy with some parts i hope you guys enjoy hehe (kinda unedited cuz its long and my head is done w this HWJBSDJFHS) !! also the last part in italics is a flashback !!

It’s peculiar, you think, how stars shine in the sky.

Miniscule pinpricks of light, often second to the moon's gentle shine, blazing fiery bright only in the nothingness of outer space, millions to count, only a few truly seen from the ground. Perhaps they weren't all that different from lonely souls on earth.

It’s an entirely too romantic thought to have, that each star in the sky can be bonded to a solitary soul, but for some, it can be comforting to have such a being, when no other seems to be present. For while it may be believably impossible that stars shine for one individual, it can be, if you’re the only one looking.

And it feels like such a nostalgic phenomenon as you sit in your car, red light washing your vision as you wait for it to flood green, gazing out your window to the night sky, focusing on one tiny white light glimmering in the darkness.

It seemed to move, glimmering brighter as it quivered back and forth in the sky. You blame it upon your exhausted state, shaking your head and returning your gaze to the road in front of you. The light blinks green, and your car surges forwards into the intersection, only for you to slam the brakes.

That body wasn’t there five seconds ago.

You’re intensely relieved at the late hour of the night, no other cars in the streets around as you park your car, unbuckling your seatbelt and rushing out.

It’s a boy, about your age, curled up in the middle of the roads, wearing all black casual clothes. He doesn’t move when you approach him, bending down and touching his shoulder gently.

“Hello?”

He stirs slightly at the sound of your voice, and you try again.

“Hello? Do you know your name?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, and panic surges within your chest, but he lifts his head, silver tinted hair blurred with city street lights. His eyes are bright as he opens them slowly, blinking at you.

“Hoshi. My name is Hoshi.”

You wonder if this was a stupid decision.

Hoshi refused to go to the hospital, held no identification, or memory as to who he knew, or where he was, and how he got to the middle of the intersection.

Yet somehow you believed he wasn’t lying, or that he wasn’t insane, letting him sleep in your spare bedroom after driving home with him. You’d stayed awake mostly all night just in case though.

You kick off your covers when you hear the floorboards creak and the quiet shuffling footsteps that follow. Hoshi offers to help you with breakfast, and when you gently refuse, he sits, watching you from the countertop stool.

You ask him questions, ones to which he barely has answers to, and when you serve pancakes, you inquire the most pressing matter.

“Where will you go?” You’re not sure why you’re suddenly protective of this stranger, but as he stuffs pancakes into his face, you’re more concerned as to whether he’s breathing as he eats rather than a murder.

“Not sure.” He swallows. “But I’m sure it’s weird to have me here. Thank you for all you’ve done so far.”

“Do you have anywhere to go? Where’s your home? Last night…” you purse your lips. “How did you get into the middle of the intersection?”

“I don’t know.”

Hoshi seems too nonchalant, and you’re absolutely dumbfounded.

“Well… until you do… I guess you could stay here. My roommate moved out recently so you could take that room. If you want.”

“You’d be okay with that?” He blinks, setting his fork down, and you shrug reluctantly.

“Just until you find your way home.”

He nods, smiling.

“Just until I find my way home.”

It’s harder said than done.

Hoshi tries not to show it, but the frustration is palpable whenever you come home and ask him his progress.

A small, tight lipped smile as he tells you the same thing.

“Slowly getting there. I feel it.”

It’s not completely fruitless; you’ve discovered that Hoshi likes to dance, flawlessly moving his body and with a passion that leaves him glowing. You’ve also found his fascination with tigers, buying him a variety of plushies for his room, helping him feel less lonely as you were at work.

Yet nothing could be found about his way home.

You didn’t mind, as you made it a few weeks in living with one another, but neither of you could deny it was gnawing at you both.

One weekend, as you both sit on the couch, watching a drama Hoshi had taken a liking to, he pipes up.

“Why do you trust me?”

“I don’t know.” You sigh quietly, regretful at the fact you couldn’t give him more answers. “Why do you trust me?”

“I don’t know. I feel like,” he hesitates, picking at the blanket. “Like I know you from somewhere. I go around to the park, to the intersection where I woke up, to shops and cafes, and I can't find anyone or anything I find remotely familiar. Except you.”

“Is it crazy if I said I feel like I know you too?”

“Yeah.” He laughs, dispelling the awkward mood, and you snort, hugging a pillow to your chest. “Like something out of a drama.”

That night, you can’t sleep.

You’re tossing and turning, the covers getting tangled between your legs, and when you finally get up to drink a glass of water in an attempt to calm your mind, you hear a faint murmur from Hoshi’s room.

His door is slightly ajar, and as you peer in, his blankets are half on the floor while he mutters in his sleep. He looks distressed, eyebrows furrowed as his head turns from side to side, as if looking for a place to escape. Rushing to the side of his bed, you place a tentative hand on his forehead.

He’s burning up, and something, despite the shut curtains, was illuminating the room in a hazy glow, though in your concern, you couldn’t pinpoint where it was emanating from. And you’re not sure you would have believed it if you did, radiating from under his skin.

“Hoshi, wake up.” You repeat twice, shaking him gently, and when he does wake, it’s with a bursting inhale, bolting up as you scramble back.

He grimaces, and you reach out to touch his hand, but he flinches away, surprised.

It’s quick, hot pain slicing through your nerves, and you cradle your hand to your chest with a gasp.

“Did I hurt you?”

His eyes are wide and sorrowful as he slowly turns your hand in his, running his fingertips gently over the reddened skin.

“It’ll heal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You mean it, yet Hoshi still examines it tenderly, making goosebumps rise at his warm touch. “Were you… having a bad dream?”

“I think so.” He lets your hand fall, and you clasp it loosely in your lap. “I don’t remember it though.”

He looks troubled, worrying at his bottom lip, and you wonder if you should bring up the details upon what just happened. But you had a feeling he wouldn’t have any answers himself.

“Do you want to go outside and watch some TV until you fall asleep again?”

He falls asleep halfway through the episode, on your shoulder, and you let him, turning off the screen and resting with him.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“For me?” Hoshi stares at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not really special.” You flush.

You figured this was coming, considering that not only has Hoshi hit a complete dead end within his search, and the way you both have grown closer in time. His presence became a reliable one within your life, and the same could be said for you towards Hoshi over the past months.

“What is it?” He presses curiously, and you smile.

“Close your eyes.”

When he does, you drop a key into his hand, waiting expectantly for him to crack open his eyelids, peeking at the object.

“A key?”

“To the apartment.” You elaborate. “I know you used the spare, but I thought I’d give you your own.”

“My own?” His eyes are wide, and you laugh, nodding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s surprisingly easy to get Hoshi set up as an “identifiable” person, as if the government has dealt with people dropping out of nowhere on a regular basis (you and Hoshi have your conspiracies).

He’s quick to get a job at a cafe nearby, even joining a dance class once a week.

You both slip into a life that’s domestic and easy, and whatever feelings that start to bloom are gentle enough to be heard without words.

But it comes with making a home together.

“We have to stop meeting like this in the middle of the night.”

Your voice is hushed as you open the sliding door to the balcony, having seen Hoshi sitting on the balcony by himself in the middle of the night. He laughs, but it sounds watery.

You watch as a tear pearls at his eye, rolling down, glinting in the moonlight, and you wipe it away gently. He smiles at you kindly despite his own emotions.

“What’s wrong? What’re you doing out here?” You whisper after a few moments, Hoshi returning his gaze off to the night sky.

“I just wanted to sit outside for a little bit. I’m not sure why I’m crying exactly.” He lets out a watery laugh. “I think… maybe I miss home.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it? I can't remember what home looks like or where it is, but I still miss it. Perhaps you can never forget the feeling of home, even if everything else is gone.” He muses.

You sit silently, mulling over his words, unsure of what to say to comfort him. He doesn’t give you the chance, taking your hand, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you, for making me feel like this could be a home for me. For being my home.”

It’s a year and a half later when two people show up at your door.

You’re still asleep, Hoshi hearing the knock and getting up confusedly, careful not to wake you as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Hoshi?”

“Yes?” He blinks, peering out the crack of the door opening. Two boys stand outside,

“Thank god, we finally found you.” One of them sighs.

“Seriously, why didn’t you come back when you were supposed to?” The other one gripes, but relief pervades his features.

“Found me? Come back? What?” Hoshi furrows his eyebrows. “Listen, I think you guys are at the wrong place.”

“You really don’t remember us? I’m Jihoon.” The shorter boy points at himself. “And this is Seungcheol.”

“I…” memories twinge faintly on the back of his mind, and he feels a headache coming along. “Listen, I don’t—”

“Your real name is Soonyoung.” Seungcheol prompts quietly, and Hoshi squeezes his eyes shut in a grimace.

It’s not immediate, but the memories rush back in a way that he knows should not have come all at once.

Awoken by the lack of his presence, you pad out of bed, peeking around the corner where you see him talking seriously with two strangers.

“Hoshi?” You murmur, and he turns back, a soft expression on his face. He says something quickly to the men before closing the door and making his way towards you. “Who are they?”

“They’re from… where I’m from.”

“Oh.” Your surprise is evident, and he can’t blame you.

“My real name is Soonyoung. But I’ve been called Hoshi too. It’s Japanese for ‘star’, did you know that?” Soonyoung starts quietly, and you blink.

“I did. God, that was so long ago when I learned that, it’s kind of stupid now that I think about it…” You trail off, eyebrows furrowing as he takes your hands gently, shaking his head.

“I have to go.” Hoshi, no, Soonyoung, murmurs gently, and you swallow.

“What do you mean?”

“I…” He glances back at the door where the duo left from. “I have to go back… to where I came from. I wasn’t supposed to stay this long. Only to help you then go back. But for some reason, I crashed with no memories.”

“Now?” Your head is starting to spin at the pace of this all.

He nods slowly.

“I’ll always be here for you. You’ll always be able to find me. You know that right?” The way he squeezes your hands in his is tender, but you can hear his urgent underlying tone as you nod, uncertain in only the circumstances to which he was telling this to you.

“Will I see you again?”

“You can always see me if you look up.” Hoshi smiles, and your heart cracks a little bit at the words. “But in person, one day.”

“H—Soonyoung.” You tug him close in a tight embrace, and he reciprocates just as hard. You’re struggling to say all the words you want to, and he soothes you comfortingly.

“I know. I know, love.” He kisses you softly. “Let’s meet another time. No goodbyes.”

Your heart aches as the door shuts.

Another time.

You remember another time.

Eyes puffy, you slid open your window with effort, breathing in the evening air.

It’s faint, the memory as to why you were exactly crying, but the feeling of helplessness was heavy.

Stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, and you found the one you could see every night without fail. You poured out every emotion and thought mindlessly.

It was a comfort to have some kind of stable presence in your life, even if it was a celestial being, miles away.

“I’ll call you Hoshi.” You murmur, and with the finality of a name, you feel like you can breathe in the hot summer atmosphere.

“You’ll always be there for me won’t you? I’ll always be able to find you in the sky.”

You swear the star glimmered brighter.

#caratwritersclub #svtsource #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you #hoshi imagines #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung x you #soonyoung imagines #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt x you #seventeen x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader

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