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lepusrufus · 3 years

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Double edged scalpel ch.5

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4

Summary: someone please give Nicole a break for the love of Miranda. And there be smut y'all

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Seeing Cassandra's softer side made something flutter within Nicole's chest. The brunette was a sadist through and through. Witness to that fact was the array of torture devices that littered the dungeons. Not to mention the prisoners she frequently killed, only to haul them on the autopsy tables in her study to be examined, chopped and sectioned by the both of them.

But there was an uncharacteristic sort of gentleness in the way their lips slid against each other, sharp teeth occasionally biting down on Nicole's lower lip but never enough to draw blood. In the way Cassandra would drag sharp nails against flushed skin, but not go beyond the pleasurable amount of pain. Even the glint in golden eyes when Nicole went over some old notes of hers on more tricky anatomy concepts. Having an exclusive look at this side of Cassandra felt beyond intimate and the thought almost made her miss when the brunette spoke from where she was leaning over a notebook.

"Okay let's just wrap this up, I have plans."

Nicole hummed, dropping the liver she was holding in a freezer bag. Most body parts were already bagged and ready to be picked up by Cynthia and her undercooks, they were just putting into practice some things the brunette was curious about. She dropped the now blood soaked leather gloves in the sink and went to sit by Cassandra, who was scribbling some final notes.

"In that case I'll go enjoy a cup of tea," she sighed. "Tea that I had to skip because someone was eager to start on this early."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at her, accompanied by her usual smirk. "I meant plans with you."

Oh? That was new. The brunette laughed at Nicole's wide eyed expression and snapped her notebook shut. She took her sweet time putting it on the shelf with the others and checking the time, pretending not to notice the redhead's inquisitive expression. Then, she lifted Nicole’s chin with a thankfully not covered in blood finger.

"Don't get me wrong I love it here but," she grimaced, "it gets stuffy sometimes. Especially in summer."

Well, that much was true. The undergrounds of the castle were oddly warm, although not downright hot, compared to what one would expect from a castle. Pair that with the annoyingly humid atmosphere and having to wear a leather apron and gloves so as to not completely ruin your outfit and you got the perfect recipe for discomfort. She really ought to ask Cassandra about installing some kind of better ventilation down here.

"Meet me in the attic in about… an hour." She leaned down and their mouths were so close that Nicole could feel icy breath on her lips.

The attic? She's never been to the attic, it was not only off limits for most staff but also dangerous if rumors were to be believed. Not that she had the clarity of mind to voice any concerns when Cassandra finally leaned in to kiss her, complete with a nip on her lower lip that made Nicole’s breath hitch.

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The fact that Nicole had no idea how to get to the attic could be a slight problem. She had asked Anita, but not only did she not know, she also seemed mortified by the idea. Another maid just gave her vague directions to look for a ladder on the top floor. As if that wasn't like trying to find the needle in a haystack. Or the needle in a giant castle.

She was just wandering around the top floor, praying not to stumble upon anyone who would be less than thrilled to see her there. A sigh of relief escaped past her lips when she heard familiar buzzing and steps coming towards her.

"Oh Cas-" she swallowed her words when she noticed red hair spilling from underneath a black hood.

"Nicole! What are you doing here hmm?" Her inquisitive hum was way too exaggerated the same way her fangs seemed too sharp when she grinned.

"I was just looking for Ca- lady Cassandra. She asked me to meet her in the attic."

Daniela's mouth fell open, almost forming an O shape. Then back to her characteristic giggle, almost as if laughing at a joke only she knew.

"What, you don't know how to get there?"

"...Not really," she sheepishly admitted.

And that was a mistake. Nicole would've preferred to wander the hallways until Cassandra eventually got bored enough of waiting and decided to come see where her glorified lab partner was. But her plan was ruined by Daniela wordlessly grabbing her arm and pulling her in the opposite direction she was going in. She even went the extra mile to partially turn into a swarm, which made Nicole's panic skyrocket. She didn't mind bugs. But having hundreds of them fly all around you, accompanied by manic giggling was a whole other thing.

Before she knew it though, Daniela let go of her arm, laughing a little at Nicole's stumbling. She gestured dramatically towards a ladder and said:

"There you go. Say hi to Cassie for me."

"Th- thank you my lady." And with a small bow of the head she grabbed the ladder and started ascending on shaky legs.

"And enjoy your date," she called out, once Nicole was at the top of the stairs.

Blushing, she decided to ignore the comment and start looking for the sister less likely to turn her into fly food.

The attic looked… old. It was obvious that people didn't come here often, although someone probably did clean it regularly as there were no cobwebs nor dirt on any surfaces, aside from some dust. It was full of neatly arranged boxes and crates, their contents as mysterious as the castle's inhabitants. Tentative steps took her across ancient floorboards, navigating old rooms.

"Rah!"

Nicole damn near jumped out of her skin, a string of curses spilling past her lips. "Jesus fucking christ Cassandra!"

The brunette only laughed, hands on her knees and pretending to wipe a tear from her eye.

"That's what you get for making me wait for so long."

"I didn't even know where the attic entrance was! Good thing one of your sisters came to my rescue." Nicole rolled her eyes at the last word.

Cassandra stopped laughing, eyes narrowing slightly. "Which one?"

"Uh- Danie-"

"Did she hurt you?" Cassandra grabbed her arms, golden eyes looking for any visible injuries.

Nicole just laughed softly, taken off guard by the display of concern. "No, no. Just gave me a bit of a fright, that's all."

With an eye roll, Cassandra guided her further into the attic, through more dusty rooms, until they reached a short corridor, light spilling from its other end. The room they entered was relatively small, almost half of it occupied by stacked boxes as if it used to be a storage room like the rest of the attic and nobody bothered to completely clear it out. A few pieces of furniture were also present: a couch with a coffee table in front of it and paintings leaning against a wall to collect dust. This room however had a window, left slightly ajar, that allowed you to see the mountains stretching on the horizon, crowned by the beautiful orange hues of dusk.

Nicole moved to the glass to take in the view, mouth almost hanging open, when an ungodly screech from outside made her backpedal straight into Cassandra.

"What the fuck was that?" She asked, eyes widening at the sight of flying creatures circling the towers.

"Mother's flying guard dogs."

"They sound the same way I'd imagine the souls of the damned do." Nicole didn’t take her eyes off the ghoulish creatures, almost as if keeping eye contact would dissuade them from attacking.

Cassandra just shrugged. "Wouldn't be too far off. Also here." She sat on the couch, gesturing towards a cup.

Nicole went to sit by her side, grabbing the mystery cup. She frowned slightly when the steam reached her nose, bringing with it a pleasant minty and honey aroma.

"Tea?"

"Since you were so disheartened about having to skip it earlier," Cassandra averted her eyes, seemingly finding the curtains very interesting.

After a long sip, she let out a content sigh. The warmth was more than welcomed, despite the weather. She set the cup back on the table and turned her attention on the brunette, now fidgeting with the corner of a pillow.

"Thank you," Nicole said, leaving a small kiss on her cheek.

Cassandra smiled and turned around, locking their lips in a kiss that at first mimicked her gentleness, but soon turned hungry when dainty hands made their way to the brunette's nape, pulling her closer. She shifted them both, pushing Nicole down on the pillows littering the couch, until she was laying on top of her, legs on each side of her waist. Her focus was on leaving a trail of nips and kisses down Nicole's neck when the redhead jumped and barely stifled a yelp at another screech from outside.

"Ugh what the fuck is today, scare me out of my mind day?"

"How are you scared of these but countless dead bodies don't phase you?" Cassandra laughed, sound muffled by her position with her mouth against Nicole's neck.

"I used to work on corpses, not on ugly gargoyles that could chew my face off!" She gestured wildly at the window and the few creatures visible outside.

"You what?"

"You...didn't know?" Nicole couldn't help a giggle at Cassandra's confused expression.

"How was I supposed to know?"

"I thought your mother told you already. Or your sisters," Nicole shrugged.

"They knew?!" And, after something seemed to dawn on her, "Oh I'm gonna kick both their asses."

Nicole couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, placing her hands on Cassandra's cheeks and, with a pout for dramatic effect, "Right now?"

As much as the sight was both funny and endearing, the warmth starting to pool at her core was making her beyond impatient.

The indignation in golden eyes was replaced by an all too familiar glint and black painted lips went back to their work on Nicole's neck. Sharp fangs pierced the skin there, just enough to draw a few drops of blood and a whine. After licking every last bit of it, Cassandra's lips moved to the collarbones and lower, hands slowly starting to undo the buttons of Nicole's pesky uniform that was in the way.

When both the button up and the skirt were discarded on the floor Nicole tangled her fingers through black hair and pulled Cassandra in for a kiss. Her free hand went to the back of the dress, pulling down the zipper and guiding it off of the brunette's shoulders. Once both of them were left only in undergarments, Nicole pulled back to look up at the brunette.

"If I knew I was supposed to dress up I would've asked the chambermaid if there's anything fancy in the uniform stash," she said, taking in the beautifully intricate lace of Cassandra's matching bra and underwear, complete with a giggle at her awful joking.

The brunette only raised an eyebrow. "Mhm I can take care of that. Not like you'll need these for long though." Her hands reached under Nicole's back to unclasp her bra and in mere moments that too was on top of the pile of clothes on the floor.

Then Cassandra bent down to crash their lips together, tongue slipping past Nicole's lips when a wandering hand elicited a gasp from her.

Cassandra was by no means a patient person. Quite the opposite actually. But teasingly dragging her nails across sensitive skin only to feel the girl under her squirm and whine when her hand just won't go where she needed it made waiting all the more sweet. Slender fingers started to toy with the edges of Nicole's underwear. After a groan against her lips and an impatient tug of hair, Cassandra finally gave in, slipping two fingers inside her. She felt Nicole arch into her, a broken moan escaping past her lips when she broke the kiss to let her head fall back into the cushions. Cassandra took that as an opportunity to kiss the length of her neck, occasionally stopping to suck or bite at a spot, enjoying every gasp and moan she drew out of the redhead.

With Cassandra's rough pace it didn't take long before Nicole was clenching her thighs around her hand. Cassandra kissed her, swallowing her moan as she came.

The small room in the attic, Cassandra's drawing room she would later find out, was the perfect secluded spot. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other. First evening of many.

#double edged scalpel #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #daniela dimitrescu #fanfic #idk how to smut yall

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

#bnha 294 #mr. compress #...and actually that's pretty much it lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is up later than usual (and mostly unedited as well)#just one of those days

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hxwks-gf · 3 years

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» 𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖎𝖉𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖎 𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚑 𝚛𝚘𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜...

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝖆/𝖓: 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

The crescent moon that hung in the sky cast the darkened forest in hues of silvery shadow, silently watching over the feeble cluster of tents that were nestled in a small clearing within the trees. Her glow barely illuminated the scattered scouts that were awake and keeping watch, their fingers resting on the hilts of their swords while they listened to the wind.

There had been no activity for hours. In the morning they would pack up the wagons and return to headquarters, all of their dead in tow. The journey back could’ve been possible during the night if they hadn’t taken such a heavy hit in the field, so they opted for settling in and waiting until the first morning light when they had enough energy to protect themselves.

The fires were kept low as not to draw any unwanted attention to their makeshift camp, and from your perch up high in a tree, you silently listened to the sound of the sleeping squad snoring away in their tents. A few other scouts were strategically placed along the outskirts of the camp, also keeping watch alongside you. You lifted your face to the moon’s light and inhaled the cool, midnight breeze, smelling nothing threatening on it.

The whirring sound of ODM gear caught your attention. Mikasa appeared on the thick branch beside you, kneeling in a crouch.

“Your watch is up,” she said quietly, pushing her scarf down from her chin. “Get some rest.”

You nodded and stood up, wincing at your sore muscles. She took your place and trained her eyes on the horizon, allowing you to silently launch yourself from the tree and land gracefully on the forest floor, along with the rest of the scouts who were retiring from the first watch. You made your way over to your sleeping horse to dig around in the saddlebags for something to eat.

As you searched, your eyes briefly glanced up and made contact with your squad leader from across the clearing, the firelight dancing across his sharp features and those grey eyes that were watching you intently. Your hands stilled in your bag as you were scrutinized under his gaze.

He jerked his head in the direction of the darkened trees behind him, away from prying eyes and nosy scouts. You swallowed nervously and averted your gaze, staring into the meager contents of your saddlebag instead. A strange feeling of giddiness bubbled in your stomach as you closed the flap and gave your sleeping horse an affectionate pat on the rump, keeping your footsteps quiet as you started towards the treeline to follow the silent order.

“Psst,” a hushed voice came from your left.

You came to a stop and glanced over, digging your fingernails into your palms. Armin was sticking his head out from his tent, his exhausted blue eyes doing their best to focus on you.

“What?” you whispered back, knowing a certain someone wouldn’t wait around forever.

“Are you coming back from watch?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes,” you replied, risking a nervous glance toward the trees. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” he said through a yawn, and started to slink back into his tent. “Get some sleep, Y/N.”

“I will,” you lied, and resumed your path towards the edge of the camp and slipped into the darkness. God, where had he disappeared to? You knew he wasn’t much for waiting around, but if he had left already--

Strong hands grabbed you by the waist and suddenly you were spinning around and falling against his muscled chest. Before you could say anything, Levi was crushing his lips to yours in desperation, as if he had been starved of you for months. Which was definitely not true.

You pushed the thought away and kissed him back, your hands sliding up and wrapping around his neck, feeling the soft hair of his undercut beneath your fingers. God, you had missed this. His lips tasted of salt and smoke and midnight air, drowning every tired muscle of yours in warm, delicious shadow. His fingers were still gripping your waist as he pulled you down on top of him, his back leaning up against the thick trunk of the tree he had you hidden behind.

“What took you so long?” he muttered against your mouth, his hands disappearing from your waist to fiddle with the buckles of your pants.

“Sorry,” you said, taking his bottom lip in between your teeth and biting firmly. You heard his breath catch in his throat. “Armin saw me walking by.”

Levi grunted and helped push your pants down and out of the way, the cool night air a tantalizing shock on your bared core. His fingertips trailed along your naked legs until they came to his own belt buckle, and now it was your turn to help him out of his uniform. It was only the pants with the two of you--you were always too impatient to worry about any other pieces of clothing. Just the ones that were in the way.

As his pants were shimmied down his hips, you heard the sound of his length springing free and slapping against his navel. Your nostrils flared in desire.

“Come here,” he growled, mindful to keep himself quiet as not to be discovered by the rest of the squad. Although, you were pretty sure they already knew Levi was fucking you on the regular.

It was hard to see in the dark without the light of the fires, but you could feel him pumping his cock to ready himself for you. He guided your hips up and over to rest just above the glistening tip, a bead of silver precum swiping along your entrance. You hovered over it with a devilish grin, one you knew he couldn’t see, and marveled at the feeling of his dick twitching against you with anticipation.

“Stop teasing, brat,” he said, breaking you out of your fun.

“Always so eager,” you simpered, reaching down and grasping his shaft. With ease, you guided it into your already soaking entrance and immediately bit back the sinful moan that wanted to echo through the forest as his entire length slid painfully slow along your walls. “Fuck.”

“Be quiet,” was all his reply. You could hear the struggle of keeping his own self quiet in the words, earning a satisfied sigh from you. As he bottomed out inside of you, he paused there, letting you adjust to his size, before slowly rocking his hips in tandem with yours.

This wasn’t unusual, meeting him out in the open after a particularly rough mission. You realized from the start that it was a release both of you needed. It was a way to cope, a way to make sure you got through another day. That’s all it was.

“Shit,” he quietly groaned, his hands tightening at your hips as you continued to languidly ride his cock.

“Be quiet,” you mocked, and you could feel his glare burning a hole in your face. He responded by wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you tighter against his torso, increasing the pace of his thrusting hips and hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you. “Oh, fuck, Levi--”

He said nothing, but clapped a hand over your open mouth to silence your oncoming moans as he fucked you relentlessly on the forest floor.

That warmth that had blossomed in your core was a raging bonfire now, growing hotter and hotter with every single thrust. He kept his hand against your mouth, even when you made those delicious, muffled moans against his fingers that he loved so much. His breathing turned ragged, his pace was getting sloppy. Neither of you could ever last very long with each other.

“F-fuck,” he muttered, his hand disappearing from your mouth and returning to your hip.

You did your best to keep yourself under control, but at the growing orgasm in your core, it was getting increasingly difficult not to let the whole forest know how good his cock felt inside of you. You tipped your head back in ecstasy, eyes fluttering open to look up at the moonlit canopy of leaves above you, the stars that littered the night sky peeking through.

It was almost romantic. You looked down at Levi beneath you, your eyes having been adjusted to the dark, and seeing his equally pleasured expression as he fucked you. He was so beautiful. Those grey eyes, that dark hair, the stoic and firm authority that had originally piqued your interest in him. You always wanted to look into those eyes. You wanted to swim in the expanse of his mind, learn every little detail that hid in the crevices of his brain, protect him from this cruel and fucked up world because you knew it had done enough to permanently screw him up. You hated anything and everything that had ever wronged him.

Jesus, did you love him?

Your hips faltered at the invasive thought and you stopped matching his pace altogether.

“Why did you stop?” he said, voice low. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” you whispered, your hands still splayed out across his chest and stomach. His cock twitched inside of you, silently begging for you to start moving again, but he kept his focus trained on your face.

“Stop lying.” Levi reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb over your trembling bottom lip. “We can stop, if that’s what you’d like.”

“No,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “It’s not that, I just...I just realized something. Something that could potentially screw our little arrangement up.”

He simply watched you with those grey eyes, saying nothing. Damn him.

“I know we said this was just a means of catharsis,” you started, still keeping your voice at a whisper. “A way to escape from this fucked up life, but...I want more. More from you.”

“More?”

You nodded and swallowed nervously. “I care about you, Levi.”

He was silent for a long, painful moment, until a low chuckle reverberated from his chest. His hands settled against your hips again, thumbs drawing idle circles against them. “So what does that mean?”

“It means I don’t want you to fuck me in the dirt as much anymore,” you snapped, unable to keep your voice down. “I want to spend nights with you in your tent, or your bed. I want to have morning tea with you, for fuck’s sake. I’ve spent all these nights chasing after something I didn’t know I wanted until I realized there will come a time where I won’t be able to have it anymore, and then I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“It’s you,” you whispered shakily, looking down at him. “It’s always been you.”

Levi reached up again and gently pulled your face down to his, to where he kissed you deeply, still tasting of salt and midnight. This kiss was different...different from the ones you had previously shared in secret, all tongue and teeth and urgency. This was sweeter. Slower. He held your chin in place as he kissed you, while his other hand cupped the back of your head. When he finally let you come up for air, he leaned back against the tree trunk with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“What does that mean?” you asked, a hand going to touch your swollen lips.

“For someone so smart, you sure are dense,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You know what it means, brat.”

It was enough. A small, shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Before you could say anything else, his hands squeezed your hips.

“Now,” he growled, tilting his chin up. “Are you going to let me fuck you, or not?”

There was nothing else to say.

#y'all im so sorry for always posting self indulgent shit #but i needed this #i love him so much man #ok bye #levi ackerman #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman imagine #captain levi #captain levi smut #captain levi fluff #captain levi imagine #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #attack on titan fluff #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin fanart #shingeki no kyoujin levi #shingeki no kyoujin imagine

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fanfiction-inc · 3 years

Text

“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Verse: Falcon And The Winter Soldier / Captain America And The Winter Soldier / Captain America: Civil War/ Marvel Alternate Universe

Characters/Pairings: Baron Zemo/ Reader, Baron Zemo/ Female Reader, John Walker

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8971

Warnings/Tags: Drinking, smut, m/f, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex, Google translated translations, Walker is an asshole and just keeps getting worse.

Summary: Baron Helmut Zemo, world renowned racer and your sworn enemy on the track. You two have been going at it for years now, but now you two must join forces to fight back against John Walker, a new up and coming racer who is proving to beat both of you. Will you two survive the other or meet your demise on the track?

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32606833/chapters/81176392?view_adult=true

This is a mess. An absolute, blazing mess that sits before you in the middle of your workshop. The chassis was dented all to Hell, a new one having to be rebuilt and delivered to fix your custom car. The engine had parts missing that were left at the crash sight when it was towed away. One car to your name, and it was fucked up. Maybe you should have taken Stark’s sponsorship and invested in a backup. Sitting on the cement floor of the workshop, screwdriver in hand as you pry out bits and pieces of parts from the engine, taking note of the parts and working on the budget you had set out for this year's series of races, you dreaded the moment you’d see the total cost. This repair would take a nice chunk, but you still had money left over after to make sure your car was at its best. That was the thing about working with your car, it was just you and this beast of metal and speed, working as one to reach the end of the line. The screwdriver is set down at your side when you struggled too long on getting the broken interconnecting rod that links the turbine from the compressor, a sigh following as you sit back. A slow sense of dread fills you as you look at the broken parts scattering the ground, the missing parts on your list, and the purple paint that still streaks the busted carbon fiber chassis.

Working with Zemo was a dangerous game, which you recognized even before you shook on the arrangement he had proposed. He was wicked on the course, predictable at times but at others a ticking time bomb of what his next move may be. He was dangerous, but that is what made him damn good. He took far more risk than you usually would when it came to advancement in the race. Where you held back, he pushed forward. No wonder the man infuriated you. But this plan was the only thing you had to get things back to normal, back to the way they were where you hated Zemo with a passion and fought tooth and nail to stay better than him. You would never admit it, but without your rival, what fun was the race? See, it's not only the thrill of the chase between the driver and death, inching closer and closer with each hairpin turn and the risk of the other driver's moves. No, it’s also the thrill of having someone who wants to win just as bad as you, who is just as good and will do anything to try and progress further than you. It sets a standard, something to surpass, something to stay on level ground with when you catch yourself falling. Zemo was your equal, no matter how much you hated him. And equals like you two don’t have room for a third party to jump in and surpass. The game isn’t any fun when someone fucks with the rules. He had a point when it came to beating Walker down, especially since the man was already fighting you both with molotov cocktails and rocket fire in the form of playing dirty on the track. He was bringing a war to a battle just to see if he could come out on top. Despite everything telling you to stay away from Zemo and not get involved in this scheme, that it could end badly for one or both of you, you couldn’t stand the idea of having Walker walk all over you like some doormat. You couldn’t let him walk in as if he owned the place and could rule as he pleased.

He needed a reality check.

Your form pops and cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting on the solid ground and stretching to relieve your body of the tension. Everything felt so wrong, and you knew you had to make it right...But was this the right way to do it? “Jesus, you sound like that rice cereal with the little elves. You know, snap, crackle, and pop?” You laugh lightly when your friend comes into the workshop, food in hand and dressed down from the usual luxury attire he wore when visiting. No suit and tie in sight, just the oil stained wife beater you had seen him in when pursuing your education in the states as he worked tirelessly on his little toys as you liked to call them. He sets the bag down, the scent of the food causing your stomach to growl and pinch with a hint of pain. Have you really forgotten to eat today? You hadn’t noticed. “Got your favorite. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that speaks English? I had to have Friday translate for me.”

“Maybe you should take a new hobby and learn the French language.” You retorted with a grin, the man shaking his head as he sets everything out. “Maybe I want you as my teacher, but you’re always busy with driving around in your fast little car and getting famous for fighting a Sokovian asshole.”

“And you’re too busy tinkering away with your toys in your little workshop in New York. Truly Tony, don’t tell me you actually want me as your teacher when your toys can teach you for me.” You pause as he rolled his eyes, watching the man for a brief moment as he turned to unwrap his burger. “Speaking of said Sokovian connard, he came to the bar I was at last night.” The man paused mid bite on the thick patty before speaking with his mouth full. “Okay, spill, what did he want?”

“Well originally I thought he was going to cuss me and try to blame me for the failure to complete the race yesterday, but he showed me something. You know the young man who won the race yesterday, corriger? John Walker?”

“Yeah, I know the guy. Races for the American McLaren team and came straight from F3 to F1. What’d he do?”

He raises a brow when you sigh, taking a seat beside him on the desk he had set the food down on and stealing the dish he had brought you. “Zemo showed me proof that Walker hit his car and sent him flying into mine. And I believe he did it on purpose.” You explain, taking a bite of the food your companion got for you. You pause for a moment to chew before returning to your theory. “On my way to the car bay, he smirked at me, and it wasn’t a “I won” smirk- well, it kinda was, but it was rather a “I did this to you” kind of smirk. Not necessarily an evil one but one that showed he knew exactly what he had done and was proud of it. Pride in an unfair act.”

“And no flags were thrown up?”

“Non, not a one. As our friend the Baron said,” you cringe at the term friend, “the ones watching the race possibly couldn’t tell if he had done such on purpose or by accident. I believe him about such. And I suppose that brings me to what I’m about to say next.” You take a breath, gaze conflicted and downcast to your food as you speak. “The Baron offered a temporary truce of our rivalry to take down this John Walker, thus allowing us to return to what we do best after Walker is taken down.” He listened intently before his nose scrunched at the idea of such. You two working together? Ha! That’d never work! “And you said yes to this crazy idea? What the Hell are you thinking, (first name)?” Your hands shoot up in defense, gaze rising to meet his own. “I know, I know! It’s a crazy idea, but you know as well as I do that if Zemo and I want things back to normal, back to the rivalry, we have to do this together so Walker is met with further resistance. If I could avoid it and deal with this American scum, no offense, then I would.”

“Some taken, but I get it. I just wonder if you two will go back to the way things are after all of this. Who knows, maybe you’ll become that dreaded word you hate to associate with him in any capacity-”

“Ne t'avise pas de le dire, Anthony.”

“Friendssss.” He draws it out, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics and slap his arm with the back of your grimey hand. He pretended to show a hurt expression before chuckling when another slap came, this time to his chest. “Oh hush, we will never be friends.”

“I guess time will tell.” A shrug followed as Stark finished the last bite of his burger, crumbling the wrapper and lining up the shot with the waste bin in the corner. “He shoots,” the paper lands in the bin, his arms going up in the air. “He scores!”

“Stop goofing around, ma amie. I asked for your help with this and now I need it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three weeks have passed, and the Germany race is upon you. The Nürburgring, a beast of a track that many racers to this day in Formula 1 fear like a plague sweeping the track. Your mind has been racing as you pieced your car back together and got it ready for racing. What happens if something wasn’t installed in the engine right? What if you didn’t get the intake vents lined up just right? You were a perfectionist with your car, and you know deep down that it was ready for race day but it made your head sing with pain as a migraine sets in. That wasn’t the only thing that made it throb and bring you to lean against the chassis of your car. Zemo’s deal, it worried you sick. But you didn’t have time to think about it much today. You couldn’t dwell on it. You had a race to win.

Your eyes flick up at the speakers, listening to the message. It was press conference time. You take your seat where your name tag and flag set, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters sitting and waiting to open up questioning. To your left, Walker seats himself with a boyish, charming smile that didn’t quite meet those dark eyes. He looked your way, hand held out to you. “Hey, I hate that we didn’t get to meet earlier on. I’m John Walker.” You glance at his hand before looking back up at him. He played a good game, acting innocent like the boy scout he tried to be. You wouldn’t fall for his games, but you shook his hand briefly. “(First name) (Last name).” He grinned. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been watching you race for years now! I hate that you crashed a couple weeks ago, would have loved to have been standing on that podium with you.”

“Oui, such a shame that was. But today is a new day, Mr. Walker.” Your gaze flickered to your right, startled by your rival taking his seat and looking directly at the pair of you. The Baron never sat beside you, even going as far as to request a seat change from the press conference coordinators. Some learned to keep you two separate, others knew it would incur drama, and drama made money.

“Alright everyone, please take your seats and the conference will begin in one moment!”

“Say, did you get your car all fixed up? Must have cost a pretty penny since you don’t have any sponsors.” Walker continued on, this time his gaze looking at the reporters as he gave a brief wave to the ones he recognized from the states. “Oui.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you?” You wanted to bite back, to say something and throw hands with this man, but you would be escorted out and disqualified in a snap. “Non.” A leg bumped yours under the table and you glance at Zemo who met your gaze briefly. Those dark brown eyes questioned if you were okay, a silent question that only you understood. The slightest nod was sent his way before looking at the reporters who got things settled and ready.

“Questions are now open-” The announcer was startled with the amount of questions directed in the direction of you three, clearing his throat as he nodded to your little trio at the table. Mr. Walker!” He gestured to the reporter, watching him stand and adjust his microphone and camera. “Mr. Walker, this question is open to the three of you. Under allegations from the previous race at The Circuit Paul Ricard, many are wondering if you had caused the accident involving Zemo and (Last name). How do you feel about these accusations?” The man had the audacity to laugh and throw that boyish smile to the camera, rubbing at his face. “Look, that was not supposed to happen once so ever. As many of my fellow racers can attest, one wrong slip of the hand on your wheel and your car will eventually go off track. I got nervous, twitched, and just so happened to bump the Baron’s car into Ms. (Last name)’s car. I feel terrible, I truly do, but it could have happened to anyone with any driver. So I refute these accusations and continue to say this is an accident.”

“And you, Baron, Ms. (Last name). How do you feel about the accusations?” The reporter gestured his question to you two now. “I respect your opinion, Mr. Walker,” Zemo began, the man smiling and sending a nod his way. “But I call, as the Americans say, bullshit.” His smile fell, darkened gaze questioning the man on what the Hell he was going on about. The reporters erupted in questioning, trying to get the attention of the two racers who stare each other down around you. You lean back a bit for them to have a better view-line, One of the American reporters calling your name. You use this moment to break the tension. “Oui?”

“Do you believe you stand a chance as a woman against these two leading men now that John Walker is starting to gain points and nearing your total?” You blink at his question before taking a deep breath, holding it to calm your throbbing head, and releasing it slowly. “Oui, I do. I believe I can keep up just as well as any racer. Take my racing career with Zemo. I have kept up with his old extrémité arrière.” The French reporters in the room resound in a fit of chuckles, bringing a smile to your face. “And against Walker?” You meet his gaze as he stares at you expectantly for an answer, forcing that smile he tried to use on you earlier. “I believe I stand quite a good chance, but que le meilleur coureur gagne.” You shrug, listening as the smaller drivers get asked their questions. The whole time there are eyes burning into the left side of your head, waiting until the racers are dismissed. Walker watches you as you walk out, watching the way Zemo comes up in tow as you make your way to the car bay. Something was up, and he could feel that there were clearly doubts in your mind about the accident in France. He would just have to deal with you later. “(First name), wait!” Zemo followed you into the bay, slowing from his jog to keep up with you to a stop near the desk holding your notes about the race and your vehicle. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in person since the bar.” He paused, looking into those eyes of yours that gaze at him curiously. “Are you ready for this, fräulein?”

“Aussi prêt que possible, Baron.” You busy yourself with inspecting your car for any last minute changes, the man watching you as you inspect and work. “Good, good. And we are still a go, yes?”

“Oui, we are still, as you said, a go.” He grinned at you, gaze flickering down your back as he looked over your uniform. Of course he had noticed you in all aspects before, talent and skill being the top, but never had he been this close like the night at the bar and now to really see you. Maybe after all of this, even with the rivalry, you could be friends, dare he say anything more than such. “You’re staring.” You quip, breaking him from his trance to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of color lingered on your cheeks. He coughed, trying to clear away the embarrassment lingering in his form. Why was he getting embarrassed? “Just thinking about what will be left behind when I pass you on the track, mein liebe.” Your eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed, the man relaxing due to how calm you are around him. No biting his head off, no anger, just chill. You stand and give a playful shove to his shoulder, smiling at the Sokovian. “In your dreams, Sokovian. Now, get the fuck out of my car bay.” He smiled to himself as he walked away, mind now clouded by the smile that lingered on your lips. He liked when you smiled, and he had to make sure this plan worked.

The race was gearing up to start, the same process as before coming into play. Car, balaclava, wheel. You take your moment to breathe, today your speed has placed you in second, just as the plan entailed. Zemo took the first position. He glanced your way, sending a nod in your direction, only to smirk beneath the balaclava when you flip him off like usual. The rivalry was still on, no matter what he would still have that after dealing with Walker. Still have you in one sense or another. Your glance focused in on the man across the way in the pole position opposite of you, his eyes locked on the two of you before meeting your gaze. There he stares you down, even as his helmet slipped on. The visor was flipped down at the one minute warning, eliminating the final clarifying view of his gaze. It was clear he was cautious of you, maybe even lingering with hate.

“Fahrer! Starten...sie ihre....Motoren!

That familiar purr settles into your chest, spreading through your body like a dam breaking and flooding the valley below. It stirs up the motivation to win once more, removing any doubt from your mind as you rev your engine. Zemo was right, Walker had to be stopped. With this attitude about racing, playing his little mind games and wrecking racers, he’d get someone killed just for first place. You couldn’t allow that...but you also couldn’t allow the rivalry you have established with Zemo to be broken because of someone else. There was too much there to be lost. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, licking your lips beneath the helmet as you prepare yourself for takeoff. The lights start counting down the race. Five seconds away, one green and two red lights. You watch them count down until the bottom lines of red are fully lit, then they flash off. You’re off, following Zemo right on the tail of his car as you start into the track. This track was a beast, your mind racing as it remembers every nook and cranny of it. Seventy three corners, eleven danger points, hair pin turns, all on a 12.8 mile long course that was deadly in the onset of any weather and people who get careless with their moves. Lucky enough, the sky was only overcast. No rain, little wind to interfere with the aerodynamics and mobility of the chassis, just the perfect chill in the air to remind you where you were in this moment. You take your turns with ease, avoiding the group of cars that began to follow suit on the track behind your own. Your eyes remained locked in on every shift to your side, Walker keeping close by within each turn and danger point you went through.

As you drive, Walker gets up past you within one of the speed trap areas, the stretch of road allowing him to be up beside Zemo and leave you on the back of their tires. Zemo had a plan, you believed in this plan… but had he just been toying with you to get closer to Walker? Doubt clouded your mind, even as you sped up in an attempt to join the boys directly in the front. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed this plan, even as you get through the first twenty five laps, then the next twenty five. Each turn brought your tyres closer to Walkers who eyed you cautiously from time to time, as if silently daring you to pull a move like he did. Maybe you’d be caught and black flagged. Hell, that would make his fucking day if that happened. As he watched you, he had failed to notice on the wider strip of the track how Zemo began to drift further and further ahead. Then he was side tracked, Zemo slowing abruptly and stealing the attention of the young American driver. “What the Hell!?” He yelled over the roar of multiple motors, watching your car join Zemo’s side and the original speed be resumed. Now you sat beside Zemo on the track, pedal to the floorboard as you two kept your lead and basically walled Walker in. Each time he tried to drift around, one of you would shift your car just enough to keep him locked in. A grin met your lips as you drove, the energy of the race taking a whole new shift as you got closer and closer to the last lap with your rival right at your side. Tips of the chassis lined up perfectly, rear aerodynamic fins aligned like a well oiled machine. You two were in perfect sync as you put Zemo’s plan into action. Create a wall of impenetrable magnitude. If Walker tried anything, all three of you would go down. If he tried to get around, he would be blocked. There was no getting out from behind you two.

The checkered flag waved in the quickly approaching distance, your gaze for a moment looking at your rival. The blur of purple was steady, lined with yours like that of an air jet's flight coordination. Perfectly straight, and running at full throttle like you are. As your cars pass the finish line, debate begins to rise. It was too close in the end to call, at least not right away. You slow, allowing the purple beast to pass by and enter the pit before you, a silent gesture of courtesy to the man you worked with. He sent a small nod your way when he watched you get out of your car, helmet removed along with his balaclava and revealing the joyful grin resting on his lips. Anyone else would mistaken it for cockiness, but the look in his eyes said it all. You two did it, you beat Walker in the race! He must be furious! A breath is held on your end, helmet and the fabric covering your face discarded as you turn your gaze away from the arriving racers and the man you drove along with. You were locked in on that score board, curiosity eating at you for who may have won the race. You were neck in neck with the man, the smallest push forward could earn either of you the points for the day. No names shown yet, and you anxiously leaned on the hot surface of the carbon fiber vehicle as you waited. Each noise around you from the slow dwindle of engines to low, fading purrs to the pit crews of your respective teams surrounding you, your rival, and the newcomer were drowned out by the pounding of your heart as it flooded your ear drums. It felt like hours passed as you kept your gaze locked on, ignoring the happy clamour of your crew, the clasp of hands on your shoulder and pats on your back, even down to the ruffling of your hair in glee. Then it flashed up.

1st: (First initial). (Last name)

1st: H. Zemo

2nd: J. Walker

The press goes crazy over the news, each respective country reporting their amazement over the finishing results.

“Ein fehlerfreier, aber überraschender Sieg für Baron Helmut Zemo, der mit (First name) (Last name) gleichauf den ersten Platz belegt!”

“Victoire pour la championne de France (First name) (Last name) alors qu'elle rejoint le Baron Helmut Zemo dans une rare égalité!”

“In a remarkable and truly unprecedented event in The Nürburgring F1 race! Baron Helmet Zemo and (First name) (Last name) tied in a photo finish for first place, a rare occurrence that has set back American racer John Walker from the potential for first place!”

Your breath comes out shaky, slowly slipping out as reality hits you like a wrecking ball to a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs as a happy noise rings out from your lips, joining your crew in the celebration as they hug and surround you. You placed first. Zemo placed first. Curiosity met you, your gaze looking to the man who celebrated with his own crew before allowing himself a chance to settle his gaze on you in turn. There he sent a wink, a silent congratulations that made you shake your head at his antics before refocusing on the celebration. You would be standing with the man in first place on that podium, both sharing the victory wreath and spraying champagne all over the crowd of fans and your respective pit crews who were basking in the glory just as much as you two were. You couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in your form, even as you make your way not too far from your rival. For a second, just a split second, you let the rivalry go and let your smile be seen in accompaniment with his gleeful grin, shoulders bumping when you’re positioned at the podium by the F1 management crew. Press swarm to the area like flies to a summer barbecue, wanting to catch a glimpse of the rivals standing together, being on the podium and sharing first place. “Not so bad working with my, as you put it earlier, old extrémité arrière, hm?” He questioned as you two stood together, the closeness you two were forced into for the photographers far more comfortable than it would have been under any other circumstances. He blamed the feelings he had at this moment on the victory over Walker, over the rest of the racers, not even thinking that perhaps this was beyond the fact that he won but that you, his favorite rival, won alongside him. “Non, not the worst.” You joked lightly, forcing a serious face for the cameras when they began to picture you two side by side on the first place stand. He accepted the bottle of champagne before you could, holding it out. “You may have the honor, (First name).” Your fingers brush his own as you grasp the bottle with him, popping the cork and sending the bubbly to decorate the crowd. Flash after flash met you as you stood alongside Zemo and basked in the glory of the win. “How about drinks to celebrate? Even as rivals, I believe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He whispered the question, causing your gaze to lock on his own in brief surprise. Was he serious!? “I um..Oui, sure. Meet you in town?” He nods, gaze seeming to glimmer ever so brighter as he takes his leave. Even when you separate to get cleaned of the alcohol and switch to “civilian clothing”, your smile doesn’t falter. Maybe it would be good for you to drink the night away with company that didn’t seem as bad as you once had thought before.

As you begin to peel away the racing suit, the flame resistant material bunching at your waist and revealing the open expanses of your back, the simplistic bra strap over the back the only material seen, you fail to hear the seething man enter your car bay. “Do you know what you just did, Ms. (Last name)? Who you fucked with?” Walker puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him, his face inches away from yours. “You went and fucked with the wrong man. You could have just accepted your loss, licked your wounds, and we would have been just fine. But oh no, you had to go and fuck with my winning streak with that Sokovian piece of shit.” He huffed when you shove him back, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over your bra covered chest out of annoyance. You could care less what he saw. “I don’t see why you’re so mad, Mr. Walker. You got a taste of your own medicine after that stunt you pulled back in France. You and I both know that was no accident.”

“You know what? Yeah, I did that. But I see you are working with Zemo now, which is also a big no-no in Formula 1. Seems we’re both sinners of the race. The greed of it.” His tone was a hushed, harsh whisper. There was no need to alert anyone that he was in your private quarters harassing you. “I’m nothing like you.” Your tone came out in a hiss, his downturned lips curving up into a grin at your response. “Oh sweetheart, I beg to differ.” He chuckled at the narrowed gaze he was met with. “You and your Sokovian boy toy need to back off. Let this happen like it should or you’ll not like what happens next.”

“And just what do you think you’ll do, John? Because all I’m hearing right now is a lot of talking with no proof of any big execution.” Your lazy grin and scoff of annoyance at his presence left him to raise his hands in mock defeat, hands coming to rest on your shoulders once more with a harsh grip that made your body tense and hold you there. He leaned in, even as you tried to lean away, his lips moving in close near your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” His tone alone makes your body betray you, the calm, cool, and collected front slipping as a shiver ran up your spine at his warning. And with that, he leaves you to get dressed for the night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zemo texts you an address for a bar off the beaten path in Cologne, Germany, further than you had anticipated in going from the track but a welcomed change of scenery. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” The words stick with you, even as you drive the main road into the big city, looking for the bar Zemo had invited you to. It was connected to a hotel, a fancy hotel at that, with old architecture and lavish exterior. You could only imagine the interior! A nervous breath is taken as you get out of the car, gaze meeting the man you had just won with. He smiled at you, clothing casual and the air around him feeling far more comforting now than ever. The incident with Walker had left you rattled, sending your nerve endings to buzz and let your body know that you aren’t okay. Even though you felt off, you force a smile to the man who wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders and led you in to sit at the quiet bar. “So, did I not tell you the plan would work?”

“I just thought it was your cockiness talking, but I will admit, though it physically pains me to do so…” You pause, biting your lip. “Well?” You sigh. “You were right.” The words come out struggled and forced, the man's grin growing at such. “Ah~, I don’t believe I caught that.” “Oh va te faire foutre!” He chuckled at your words, hand raised towards the bartender to get you drinks. “What are you ordering?”

“Shots. We deserve something to toast our victory to, and I don’t believe champagne is your drink of choice.” He offered you one of the smaller glasses, his own raised before him as he locks those bright brown eyes with your own. “Ein Prost! To us, and our victory over John Walker. May that American schwein taste defeat again.” You raise your glass, hoping to drink away any thoughts about Walker's warning and leave it for the next day. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided right then and there that you would finally have fun and disregard the night that you sat across from your rival. Tonight you just wanted to drink. “À la vôtre!” The drink is bitter as it hits your throat and travels down your body, causing a warmth to spread soon after. Kuemmerling, a bitter concoction of herbaceous and bittersweet flavors. A drink of choice for Zemo it seemed because soon after the shots were downed, he ordered another round.

Shot after shot after shot is taken down until your body is leaning against his own and a joke that is shaky at best from his part sends you into a roar of laughter. He holds you close, laughing right along with you. “So... It’s Barenjar?” He snorts at your piss poor pronunciation of the new liquor joining the mix, shaking his head at you as he looks on with drunken vision. “Nien, nien, Bärenjäger. Say it with me. Bä-”

“Bä-”

“Ren-”

“Jäger!”

“Mick Jagger?”

He laughs in defeat, shaking his head as he watched you. So relaxed, so calm. He hasn’t seen you like this before in his life. He’s startled by your sudden movements after downing your last shot for the night, catching you as you try to stand and stumble as your feet betray you. Your body landing against his, his arms slotting themselves around your waist as your drunken gaze catches his own. Those brown eyes of his are hypnotizing, keeping your gaze locked on his own. “I have something to confess, (First name).” He paused to wet his lips, trying to piece the words together in his hazy mind. “I have liked you since the day I met you.” He finally blurts out, fingers moving up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “You’re infuriating, yet calming. Stubborn and determined. Your smile is lovely and those eyes…” He trails off, leaving your hazy mind questioning what was going to come after, but you hardly have time to think about it as he pressed in closer, face inches from your own. The smell of Bärenjäger and Kuemmerling lingered on his breath as it fanned over your face, those brown eyes searching for something in your own. “Can you feel it, the connection we have? Can you see that we are not just rivals now?” His tone was just barely above a whisper, questioning you with a hint of desperation to his tone.

“Oui.”

That was the only answer he needed. His lips are on yours with fever and desperation, hands clinging to your form for dear life after hearing the words that sent him to fully fall into the feeling of you. You were his comfort, the one constant thing in his life. His rival...but right now you were the woman he sloppily kissed at the hotel bar as the bartender tried to catch his attention to tell you that you both were cut off for the night. His hands moved to grip at your thigh and tangle in your hair, abandoning the idea of holding anything back, the liquor giving him courage to make a move on you. He has wanted to do this for years, touch you, feel you, have you there with him in any way he could. He separated only when the threat of security was offered by the bartender, lips kiss swollen and a faint pant falling from them. “Come.” His hand takes hold of yours, leading you along to the lift and up to his room for the night. This hotel that he called home for the time being would serve well for what he had in mind to do to you. He led you inside, not even waiting for the door to close as he captured your lips once more, hands taking your rear in his grasp and hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him, back pressed up against the closest wall he could find. He held you there, lips separating to begin trailing hungry kisses down the column of your throat and allow his hands to trace along your sides. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the bare skin there, wanting what he has longed for since the day he met you. A noise fell from your lips as he lazily suckled a mark over your pulse point, your fingers tangling into his dark hair and tugging the locks when his hips grounded against your own. He couldn’t help the fire blooming in his body, needy for the creature that has teased him for all these years, The one he thought he would never have a chance with because of their hate for each other on the track. He needed you, and in your current state, you were willing to accept any touch he offered. He was just Helmut Zemo tonight. Not your rival, not the Baron, just Helmut. And you were his (First name).

A groan left his lips when you pulled him by his hair away from your neck, hands working to take your shirt up and over your head. Throwing it aside, he looked at you with a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze he gave when looking at the new modifications to his car, taking pride in the beauty of things that drove him to win. He dampens his lips, fingers lazily dragging up the expanses of your back from bottom to top, resting on the clasp of the garment covering your breast. “Darf ich?” Your nod was all he needed, the clasp undone with skilled fingers that knew precision, holding still on your back when your arms rose to take the garment and throw it in an unknown direction to be forgotten about for the time being. He wasted no time with taking one of your breasts in hand, fingers running over the sensitive bud of one while he took the other in his mouth, suckling and lavishing with his tongue. He took his time, drunken yet slowly sobering mind savoring each and every noise that fell from your lips as he toyed with your body. You’re barely into foreplay and he already has your panties soaked, the Baron being a creature that knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going without even knowing your body. He was skilled, that much was for sure in your mind as he switched to the other breast, paying equal attention to each. Those brown eyes of his don’t leave your face for a second, watching every reaction and trying to commit them to memory. If he could only have you tonight, he wanted to remember everything he possibly could. Every detail of your body, everything that drew a hitched breath or a low moan from your lips. Every shaky breath and the way your body would press closer to his greedy mouth and hand. He stored it all away. Maybe he’d wake up the next day and fancy this a pleasant dream...It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten worked up by thinking about you.

His hand traveled downward, cupping your sex through your pants as his own grinds up against your thigh, straining through the fabric of his pants. He ached for you, for your heated skin to be pressed against his own in a delicious rut of bodies. He traced along the seam, hearing the low whine that fell from your lips as he teased you through the material. “Helmut, stop for a moment.” The man paused all actions, his gaze shifted to a worried state as he met your eyes and spoke with concern. “Are you alright, mein liebling?”

“Oui.” Your fingers trace his jaw, the man's face briefly pressing in against your palm before delivering a soft kiss to the area. A tender gesture that sent butterflies to flutter in your stomach and heart to speed further than the foreplay had already caused. “I just...Take me to the bedroom. Please?” You preferred not being right beside the door where anyone could listen in, where anyone could hold a camera up to the peephole and record the sexual pleasures of the infamous Wildcard and Baron. That would make a top headline, wouldn’t it? He gave a chuckle at your demand, nodding as he kept his grip on you, your legs wrapping just a hint tighter around him as he moved you both to the bedroom. He’s gentle with setting you down, looking down at you when you unwrap your arms and legs from his form. “Scheiße, du bist perfekt.” He slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt, working each plastic piece through the loop with fingers that were known for precision on the course. A shift in his steering, taking hold of the semi-automatic paddle-shifters as he drove, it was all well calculated and that applied on and off the track. His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, thrown aside before focusing on the belt on his pants. He gets it off with what can only be deemed a darkening gaze, knowing he’s getting closer and closer to having you. You rose to let your hands trail his chest, roaming over the lean muscle that rested there as feather light kisses met his collarbone. A shiver met his spine, shooting up in bliss as he allowed a moment to savor the feeling of you touching his skin. Your skin was so warm, so inviting. He was getting lost in everything.

Your fingers shift down his torso, trailing his abdomen before looping in the belt loops of his pants to pull him forward, a low growl falling from his lips when you place a kiss above the waistline of his pants. Your movements were confident, unzipping his trousers and tugging them down to reveal the tent hidden behind his underwear. He swallowed thickly as he kicked his pants off, watching your every move as you cup him through the thin fabric, thumb moving to brush over the leaking tip and cause a shaky breath to leave him. “Maus-” A groan leaves his lips when a jerk through the fabric is given, his head falling back briefly. He huffed when you repeated the motion, fingers anxious to wrap around his bare flesh and feel that hot skin in the palm of your hand. But he stops you, hand wrapping around your own and bringing it to his lips once more. “Tonight is not about me, maus.” You’re surprised when the man placed his hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back to lay on the bed as he slowly sank down onto his knees, ”Es geht nur um dich.’ His lips drag slowly across your skin, trailing light kisses and nips along your abdomen and resting at the waist of your pants. He glanced up, a silent question of courtesy offered your way as his fingers loop in the band, asking permission like a proper gentleman. “Go ahead.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, his presence making you feel like you’re floating higher and higher on this ride with him. He gave a tug, your rear lifting and back arching to aid the man as he pulled your pants down and let them fall to join the scattered articles around the room. You’d have to go on a damn scavenger hunt just to find your clothes! But none of that mattered now, not when his hot breath is fanning over your needy core and face nuzzling at your thighs. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh before another followed, then another as he began to trail inward towards your covered core. “Aufgeregt?” He purred in questioning, a low rumble of a chuckle coming from deep within his chest spilling out at the small nod he is met with, loving how he has left you damn near speechless just by being so close. Your hips jump back before he gets a grip on them, his tongue moving over the wet fabric and causing a light whine to spill from your lips. “Helmut, please.” Oh, hearing you speak his name only egged him on further, needing you. He needed to taste you, to feel you. He needed you in every way, and his drunken mind only pushed him on to pull the fabric away from your legs and stare at the glory that is you. So wet, so beautiful. He wasted no more time, bringing your legs to hook over his shoulders and delved into the intoxicating honey pot he had been offered. He started off slowly, a long lap from entrance to clit given before the motion was repeated just to hear the noise that left your lips with each swipe. Zemo was mapping you out, taking note of what areas made your thighs twitch and tense, what areas made your hips jump back at the sensitivity of his touch, and what made those oh so delicious noises spill from your mouth.

He allows his tongue to focus in on your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a rhythm that sends your head to spin and moan after moan to spill from your lips. “Merde!” He smirked against your core when your hand shot down to tangle in his locks, needing stability after he took your clit between his lips and suckled. He repeats the motion, gaze locked on your own and watching the sudden shock of the feeling run through your body. You were so reactive, and just for him. A lazy lick is given to the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your hips jerk lightly and seeing the tremble that began to settle into your thighs. “Close?” He questioned as if he was questioning about an everyday thing, totally not giving the impression he was getting you close to orgasm just with that sinful tongue and lips of his. O-Oui.” Your tone was shaky, breathy, eyes half lidded and watching his every move on you. “Gut.” A gasp fell from your lips when he sank a digit into your hot, needy core, arching along the way and searching for the sweet spot deep within. He wasn’t like the inexperienced boys who would just jab their fingers into their partner and hope it hits something. No, his fingers curled, probed, dragged and felt for that spot in a way that showed his experience. A second digit is added not too long after the first, probing the flesh within until he hears your moan and finds that spot that drives you to clamp your thighs around his head. A groan left his lips at the rush of slick is met with each probe, massaging that spot within you and only adding to the tension building in your core. Each throb he was met with only spurred him on. He was on a mission to bring you over the edge, and he would do anything to get you off. When his mouth returned to your still sensitive clit, tongue flicking of the bundle and including the occasional suckle while his fingers moved deep within, you were done for. A rough tug is given to his hair as your body convulses, thighs clamping around him and grinding your hips down against his eager tongue. He helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your clit until you give a light shove to his head to make him stop. A wicked smile crosses his features as he gives one final suckle, a squeak leaving your lips at the motion and shoving him back as much as your trembling body allows. He can only chuckle at the attempt, fingers removing from your throbbing core. He watched your gaze land on him when you caught sight of the digits, watching the man move his glance to them as if he was inspecting them before a quiet whimper left your lips when they were taken one by one into his mouth. He made it a show, teasing you as he cleaned each digit of your juices in a slow motion. Sinking down to the knuckle before returning and licking at whatever was left. “Tease.” You huffed, chest rising and falling steadily with your hammering heart. “Oh you know you like it.” He retorted, lazily letting his body climb up and over yours on the plush mattress.

He pushed the final material separating you from him away, throwing the underwear away before letting himself settle in against your body. Zemo wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, lips joining yours as he lined up with you, one hand taking hold of your hip while the other took hold of your hair, tugging it back enough to have access to your neck. As he begins to ease himself within you, his lips attach at a section of your neck, a harsh mark left in his wake as he sinks inch by inch within the lightly pulsing core that he toyed with before. A groan was left against your skin when he was fully settled, grip rough on your hip but movements gentle as he waited for you to adjust. He was no animal, not cruel! He knew that there was a possibility for pain if he moved too soon, and even in his drunken haze he recognized the look in your eyes, the slight twinge of pain from his size alone. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant, no, but it was an intrusion you weren’t quite used to when normally doing this. He lightly placed kisses to sooth you along the mark he left, trailing them up the underside of your chin, going along your jaw before soon connecting with your lips in a soft kiss. Something to distract you until you were ready for him to move. A shift of your hips was given when you tested the feeling of him in you, the moan that left your lips causing a low growl to fall from his own. He lifted his body to loom over yours, hand moving from your hair to cup a breast as he sets a slow, deep and even borderline sensual pace within your core. Slowly out until the tip stayed just barely in before plunging deeply into your warm, wet depths. He huffed with each push of his cock within your core, meeting your moans with a faint groan here or a soft growl there when your walls gripped him just right. He was losing composure with each faint twitch of your walls around him, pace beginning to pick up into a steady rhythm that developed the noise of slick skin hitting skin and the bed beneath to creak ever so slightly with each movement. “Verdammt!” He could tell how your walls began to tighten around him, how each noise leaving your lips grew louder and louder. His poor neighbors, hearing you both so vividly through the walls of the hotel. Yet he didn’t care who heard. As long as they knew that in this moment, you were his to take, that was all that mattered. Zemo moved his thumb to your clit, working the bundle along with the assault he laid on your sensitive spot deep within. Each clamp around him brought his own release to come closer and closer. “Cum for me, maus.” He demanded with a grunt, needing to feel you come undone to reach his own release. His words hit somewhere deep in you, the demand that was laced with a plea driving you to your second orgasm of the night. He groaned as he felt you clamp around him, the sensation alone causing him to remove himself from you and spill onto your stomach with a few quick pumps of his hand along his slick coated member. He pants, taking in the sight of you one final time for the time being. Messy, slickened by your own arousal and sweat. Your hair was messed up, your lips parted and panting. To add the cherry on top, you were coated in his release, a sight for sore eyes while you lay like this. He made you like this, and it swells his drunken ego.

Slowly he eased down to lay at your side, bringing you in against him with an almost delicate kiss delivered to your temple. Your breathing slowly evened out, head resting against his chest as his fingers trail along your back, drawing imaginary patterns as his mind begins to blank. The alcohol was taking effect, causing him to enter a lull and for his eyes to flutter shut. As you lay there, catching your breath, you watch as he drifts away, a single question beginning to enter your sobering mind.

“What have I done?”

Tag List: @darksxder | @mymagicsuitcase | @mischief-siriusly-managed | @alindeluce

#Baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #racing au #daniel brühl #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #john walker #john walker is STILL an asshole #multichapter story #chapter 2 #“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

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cuteteacakes · 2 years

Text

He Had it Coming part 5/5 sexy times epilogue

It took all of Caleb’s willpower to not pull Willo’fer on top of him as they walked home. Entered his apartment building. Rode the elevator. But as soon as his key unlocked his apartment door, he was on that elf, lips, legs, everything. And Willo’fer wasn’t shying away either. In fact he seemed more aggressive than he usually was if ever?? And oh my god was it so hot… it turned Caleb on even more if that was possible…

Caleb broke away from the kiss and panted, “I don’t know what you were doing while I was inside the store, but keep doing it. I like it~”

Willo’fer kissed at Caleb’s neck, eliciting a sharp gasp from its owner. “I do not want to talk about that." He gasped and moaned himself when Caleb bit down on one of his ears. Damn… He didn’t know that was a spot for him until…

“You like that~?” Caleb panted, biting down on Willo’fer’s ear again, and drawing out another, longer moan. Jesus, Caleb didn’t realize he craved hearing his boyfriend moans. Like music to his ears…~

“I need you now…~” Caleb purred, pushing Willo’fer back onto his bed, clawing at his clothes to remove them. Willo’fer let out a grunt as he hit the duvet, and god it was just as sexy as that moan. Caleb couldn’t wait to ride him…

Once they were both naked, he reached over Willo’fer to the bedside table where he kept everything. Lube… condom… he was horny and turned on, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be safe…

“Ever put one of these on?” he asked breathlessly, eager to get the night going already.

Willo’fer stared at the piece of rubber. “What is-”

Caleb put the condom in his mouth and used his tongue to roll it onto Willo’fer’s erection. Willo’fer in turn bit back another moan. The rubber on his sensitive skin felt strange… like he was feeling Caleb’s mouth as another would, yet it was his own? He didn’t know how to describe it.

“I’m going to get ready now-...”

Willo’fer looked up as Caleb coated his own fingers in lube, the clear goo dripping down his hands. He wondered… and then bit at his lip. Caleb was… pushing them up his own… oh… and the noises he made…

“Mn… enjoying the show~?” Caleb whined and bit at his lip. “You better get ready for me… I need you in the worst way now… mn…~”

“Become one with me, Caleb…” Willo’fer reached out with his hands and beckoned. Just the small gesture made Caleb whine more. God damn… He was about to have wild sex with an elf…

He pulled his fingers out, and felt the longing for something bigger… hotter… Caleb walked to Willo’fer and straddled him, placing his hands on his shoulders. He could feel Willo’fer hardened length press against his lower back, oh god, he wanted that in him… He reached behind him to stroke Willo’fer one more time before positioning it to his opening.

“W-Willo’fer- a-ah…~” Caleb slid back and down, feeling the push and penetration, the feeling of being filled… oh man it was amazing…

“C-Caleb…” Caleb wasn’t the only one feeling amazing… Willo’fer, admittedly, never bedded a man before, but Caleb felt… so right… His hips began moving on their own, pushing up into the weight on his lap. Caleb let out another moan.

“O-oh my god~!” Caleb’s head fell back with a gasp. Already his body was electricity all over.

“Are you okay?” Willo’fer panted. “You are not hurt-?”

He was answered with a hungry kiss. The elf kissed back as greedily. Caleb began to move himself, riding Willo’fer’s cock like a carousel, seeing stars every time his hips and Willo’fer’s met. The more they met, the more Caleb craved it. He purred into Willo’fer’s mouth, begging for more, and Willo’fer delivered with ferverence. The sweet sound of love-making filled Caleb’s apartment, and for once he didn’t care he lived on the top floor. The people below him would have to deal with his moans and the thumping and- oh, Willo’fer was moving…

Caleb was on his knees now, Willo’fer’s breath hot in his ear. “This is alright..?”

“More than alright~” Caleb breathed back. He reached for Willo’fer’s hand to hold, crying in pleasure as the elf began to move again. He felt fingers interlock and a firm grip. Willo’fer’s breath was hot on his neck. God… Caleb was in love with this elf… So much…

Caleb came shortly after, when a few deep thrusts hit his prostate just right drew him over the edge. He let out a loud cry and came onto his bed. Willo’fer kissed his neck softly, giving a helpful stroke to help ride out the orgasm. Caleb shivered and whimpered. This guy… was too perfect…

“You squeeze me so…” Willo’fer purred into Caleb’s ear. “You feel good?”

“A-ah… more than good…” Caleb whined as Willo’fer began to move his hips again. “H-hey, I’m still sensitive..~”

“I will… mn… I will be quick…” the elf grunted.

No, take your time, Caleb thought, letting out soft whimpers every time Willo’fer thrust his hips into him.

Watch what you wish for, Caleb, Willo’fer kept his love-making up for hours. Caleb came again after being turned on his side and his leg was lifted into the air. The elf even kissed his ankle, not fair-!

Suddenly his thrusting became harder, more desperate, Caleb knew Willo’fer wasn’t long now. Good, Caleb was seeing stars. While he didn’t want it to stop, he knew his body wouldn’t be able to stand it for much longer…

With a final hard thrust and cuss in his native tongue, Willo’fer came. It felt odd in the condom, but Caleb had wanted him to wear it so he did… Caleb moved his hips around, helping the elf ride out his own orgasm, and finally slid himself off. He was breathless.

“Let’s wash up and get some sleep…~” he purred, and took Willo’fer by the hand. Willo’fer stumbled a bit, his legs were a little shaky. But he stumbled after Caleb for a loving shower they both shared, followed by the most restful sleep the elf had in ages.

He couldn’t wait to do this again…

#1000 words of hot passion later #its done and they did it!#lemon drabble #drabble: he had it coming

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the-archxr · 4 years

Text

I Carried a Watermelon (to Impress You)

steve harrington x reader

part two of “Nobody Puts Harrington in a Corner”

Summary: Steve takes Y/N up on the offer of trying out the lift again. But in true Steve Harrington fashion, he wants to do a little bit extra to impress her.

A/N: Did I make Steve carry a literal watermelon in this so I could use the quote? Yes. I did. My taglist also has been reopened (just throwing that out there)! Also the ending is super cheesy, so sue me, I was in a mood. Enjoy, babes :)

Song Inspo: Be My Baby - The Ronettes, (I’ve Had) Time of My Life - Jennifer Warnes and Bill Medley (I know this is repeated but you’ll see why)

•••••

“I carried a watermelon.”

You stare at the boy in front of you in surprise. Steve stands at your front door, with indeed a large watermelon in his arms. You laugh and nod your head.

“Okay?” He shoots you a large grin before stepping past you, navigating himself to your kitchen where he puts the watermelon on the counter. You follow him like a lost puppy (even though this is your house) and when you finally reach the kitchen you cross your arms in amusement. “Did you buy a watermelon just to say that, or...?”

He shakes his head at you in a teasing way before getting out a cutting board and a knife. “No, no. It was, like, super hot earlier and I remember you saying something about liking watermelon when it’s hot so I just...figured I’d come bearing gifts.”

You squint at the boy with a slight grin on your face. “So...both?”

He pauses. “Yeah, both.” The two of you laugh simultaneously as you take the knife from him. He looks down at you as you begin to position the watermelon on the cutting board. “What? You don’t think I can cut a watermelon? You think I’m too clumsy to perform a simple task?”

You turn your face to him with a knowing smirk. “Steve I know you’re too clumsy to perform a simple task.”

He places one large hand on his chest and feigns hurt. “I am deeply wounded, L/N.” You roll your eyes as he swipes the watermelon from underneath the knife. The boy begins to walk backward to the counter while holding your gaze. “I mean I can’t believe you think I can’t handle fru-“

Steve bumps into the counter, sending the watermelon out of his grip and onto the ground with a resounding thud. Luckily, the only thing that’s broken into a million pieces is Steve’s ego, and not the fruit.

You nod to yourself as he slowly leans down to pick it up. Once his eyes meet yours, you gesture to the watermelon. “Like I said...” Your hands wrap around the slightly bruised fruit as you tug it towards yourself. “Clumsy.”

You step towards the cutting board and begin to chop up the watermelon for the two of you to snack on later.

While you do that, Steve watches shyly from the side. His body shakes with nerves as he studies you. No less than a week ago, he was your best friend. But now, he’s debating on whether or not he has enough confidence and belief to tell you that he likes you (because if it’s anything more than like, he’d die). You’re all he’s been able to think about, and to be honest, he’s pretty sure he’s going to insane. As his mind wanders, he realizes he’s almost at the point of biting all of his nails off, but you suddenly beckoning him from the back door draws his attention.

The poor boy is so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you had left the kitchen with a plate of chopped up watermelon in your arms. “You comin’, Harrington?”

He swallows the lump in his throat and gives you a shy smile as he walks towards you; praying for some kind of miracle to allow him to grow a pair and just talk to you.

•••••

To say you were surprised was an understatement. Of course, Steve always had a knack for being a little bit...extra...but this?

This was on a whole other level.

“Steve...what’re you doing?” You asked slowly, although it was pretty clear. The two of you were snacking on the leftover watermelon when he had heard the song on the radio.

The second it had come on, he had jumped to the device and turned it up, sending a playful, yet nervous look your way.

He ran a hand through his hair and began to sway his body towards you. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He had then spun dramatically—albeit, a little shaky as he almost tripped on his own foot—but nonetheless, he had ended up in front of you, with an outstretched hand and a glint in his eyes that peered out beneath the messy strands of his famous hair.

“Dance with me.” At first your breath hitches in your throat. He says it so softly and so earnestly, that you’re left stunned.

But then your mind kicks into overdrive and you laugh. You hadn’t meant to, out of fear of hurting his feelings. But the whole situation was just...different. So different that you couldn’t help but resort to nervous laughter. You tried to convince yourself that the electric nerves that you could feel pumping through your body at that very moment had been simply derived from shock. It had derived from your friends proposition and the way his hips swayed in your direction.

Jesus...those damn hips.

While you mauled over your thoughts and the reasoning behind your racing heartbeat and jittery limbs, Steve stays put, hand still reaching out to you, and body still moving in place (a way of “enticing” you, because God know’s Steve’s not the best with words and wouldn’t be able to verbally convince you). But he had to get you to dance with him somehow. Afterall, this was the miracle. The song that played at the end of Dirty Dancing was playing right here, right now. In your backyard, on your radio. And Steve figured that if you two were planning on redoing the lift, then you might as well attempt to do the whole dance...right?

Steve was not known for taking many opportunities anymore. But this time was different.

It has to be.

He’s refocuses his attention, and his confidence, and shoots you a grin. “C’mon, Y/N. The song will be done by the time you get off your ass.” You didn’t even have to reply, as the boy just took to gently taking your hand and leading you to the middle of your backyard.

You both stand opposite if each other; still and unsure. Steve inhales deeply before taking the opportunity to pull you closer. One arm snakes around your waist, the other joining yours in a tight grip to your left. “Is this good? Are you...comfortable?” He can’t find a better word, and he knows he sounds like an idiot, but your approval is all that really matters. You look at him and nod slightly.

Steve gulps, and you shake—neither of you noticing the others reaction, although it’s so easy to notice.

With my body and soul, I want you more than you’ll ever know.

Steve makes the first move of the basic box waltz (the only dance he really knows from the lessons his mom made him take when he was 10 or so), before you’re stopping him. “Steve...” You look at him. A little nervous and little embarrassed at what you have to tell him. “Steve I can’t...I can’t dance.”

He quirks his eyebrows up, surveying your face. You look a little hurt by the prospect of not being able to dance, but he’s gotten so far in this plan of his that he refuses to let this moment ruin his chance. “Well then...” He leans into you with a grin. “I guess you’re just gonna have to help me ice my toes after we’re done.”

Your jaw drops at his response. Letting go of his hand for a quick moment, you nudge him sharply in the stomach. “Rude!”

He lets out a laugh as he steadies you with his body weight—never truly loosing focus of you. He begins to slowly shift, moving the both of you around in a small circle. After the first loop the two of you make, you focus on both of your moving feet, trying to keep your movements in check. To no avail, your toes land on the top of his foot. It’s a sharp step and one that may or may not have hurt him. You can’t tell. He doesn’t let his attention drift, which makes you feel a little better about possibly bruising up your friends feet.

You’re the one thing I can’t get enough of. So I’ll tell you something...

Your eyes are still trained on your feet, until his hand is guiding your face to his. But then, as quick as the previous movement, your body jerks away from him. By the time you balance yourself, you realize that he had spun you. Successfully, too. You smile wildly at the fact that you just did a simple dance move that you’ve never fully got down. But then the slight pull of his hand reminds you that now you brave the ultimate task. Spinning back into him without knocking him over.

You decide to focus on his nose, and as you let yourself be roped back into his dance space, you feel yourself teeter. But Steve’s quick on his feet, and soon your flush against his chest, arms raised up and resting on his shoulders.

The dancing stops and as you try to settle down your erratic breath and limbs, you eyes lazily trail up his face and rest on his eyes. A few short moments pass and you feel yourself blush because you can’t tell how long you’ve been staring at him for. But then he blushes in response, and you realize that he’s been staring at you for just as long, if not longer.

The two of you stand close together to the point where there’s barely any air left between the two of you. The moment—one that’s calm and teetering on the edge of sensual—gets far away from you both. As you feel his hands drift to your waist slowly, yours (rather unknowingly) trace up his arms. And then, as he ducks his head to yours, your nerves flare up. Panic invades your body and soon your jumping back.

Your heart beats fast, almost throwing your breathing off-kilter. You’re not stupid. You knew where it was going; where it could’ve gone...

You just can’t tell whether or not if felt right (and whether or not it should).

Steve however, mistakes your confusion as rejection. He steps back a little, giving you your space before clearing his throat. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean...I must’ve misread the situation.”

He frowns, and is soon picking up his stuff. If your fear hadn’t gotten you into shit before, it sure was now. He looked up to you, and you took note of his glassy eyes. You couldn’t really tell if he was on the verge of tears or not. And a part of you didn’t want to know. “I should go.”

No, no, no. This is all wrong.

Before you can tell him this, Steve is walking back to his car. You push past the gate, halting to a stop at the top of your driveway. “Steve!” You call out, voice threatening to crack beneath the pressure of its emotion.

He turns to look at you in anticipation. But you frown at his faith in you. You don’t know what to say, or what to do. All you know is that he can’t leave. You don’t trust your voice, but you let it go anyway. “You promised we’d do the lift again.”

You hate that your voice sounds small, and it sounds manipulative. You absolutely hate that it sounds that way. It beckons your friend back, but you hope it doesn’t cause him to feel bad. That’s the last thing you want.

You just need Steve to stay. He has to stay.

He frowns and drums his fingers on the car door. “I know, but...now just doesn’t seem like a good time, Y/N.”

You speak out before you can think. “When is it ever a good time though?” You can feel yourself digging a deeper hole. He likes you...a lot...and you feel as though you’re just hurting him. But he has to know that you...that you didn’t reject him.

Your just confused and you don’t—

“Steve, please. I—I want to try again.” At this point you don’t know whether you’re referencing the lift or the relationship that wobbles beneath the weight of the emotions that are present. At this point it’s too late to tell.

But Steve sighs in response, looking at you sadly once more before closing the car door and walking to the end of the driveway. He holds his hands out to you, which causes something in your brain to snap. Every calculated thought, movement, and piece of your rationale is thrown out the window and your feet take off.

You run to him. This time as fast as you can. You watch him dig his feet into the ground as he braces himself. Wind whips past your cheeks, and you can feel tears trickle down your neck.

It’s all so much at once: the running, the breathing, the wind, the tears...Steve...

Until it isn’t.

You hadn’t even realized that you had screwed your eyes shut. But when you open them to the sight of the top of Steve’s head, your world shifts. His hands are gripping your waist, and you finally recognize that you’ve done it. You’ve done the lift.

Steve waits a few more seconds before lowering you slowly; the sudden weight and new movements too much for his arms. He means to lower you to the ground, but you lift his hands off your waist as you wrap yourself around him.

Your hugging him tightly, arms suspended around his neck, the tips of your bare toes just barely touching your driveway. You bury your face into his neck and try to steady your breathing. “I don’t want you to leave, Steve. I want to try it again.”

You pull away from him and lift your eyes up to his. His brow furrows in confusion. To be honest, you’re just as confused. But you’re tired of thinking. You just...need to do it.

“What do you mean ‘try it again’? We just did the lift. Like we actually—“

He’s quiet when you kiss him. Frozen, too. Almost like your action has stopped his existence in time to just relish and relive this moment. Your mouth moves against his for a moment before he’s kissing you back. Soon you’re backed up against his car, hands tangled in each other’s hair and mouths tracing every spot they possibly can.

It ends with Steve kissing you lightly on the nose and pressing his forehead to yours; hands wound tightly together. “Jesus, Y/N...”

You giggle and use your other hand to stroke stray hair out of his vision. You smile at him warmly as your fingers stroke his cheek and the tiny scars that always appear out of nowhere. “I guess Johnny did have it harder, didn’t he?”

Steve laughs into you, pulling you closer to him once more in a quasi-hug. “Fifty-fifty.”

You hum playfully, the sound growing distant as Steve kisses you. Again. And again. And again.

•••••

Anyone want to be added to the taglist? Just let me know :))

Steve Harrington Taglist:

@wigofokoye @timeladygallifrey @fairlysuitehearts @loulouloueh @bluegreyme @coltonparayyko @readinthegarden12 @hello-therree @gothackedalready @aphrodites-perfume @arielizzlewizzle @fic-cheesecake @bohemiandeakyy @nerd-domland @blueoz @laneygthememequeen @xelaalec @i-justlikewhales @elen-alambil @heykarsyn @yellowhopes @veeshthefrog @justsomeficsilike @cxddlyash @aniya21890 @billyhargrovescigarette @nugturally @daddystevee @asheseiler @enchantedcruelsummer @gwenandtheunfortunatename

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #ultra fluffy shit #a bit of angst #but its like #barely there #dont fret #joe keery x reader #joe keery #stranger things #stranger things x reader #dirty dancing #nobody puts harrington in the corner part 2 #i carried a watermelon #80s references

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moonscarsandstars · 4 years

Text

toasters

Bright rays of sunshine illuminated the smallest particles of dust swirling in spirals in the air.

Sirius had barely opened his eyes, before the strong, sweet smell of omelette and bacon had hit him. He licked his lips and stretched his arms as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the bedroom.

“Moony,” he whined dramatically. “Where’s my good morning kiss?”

“It’s out here preparing breakfast!” Called out Remus from the kitchen. Sirius responded with a loud sound, somewhere in between a groan and a whine.

“’m coming, just a sec, love,” said Remus, and sure enough, Sirius could hear footsteps getting slightly louder, before a slightly dishevelled- but in a way that Sirius loved- Remus appeared from the doorway.

He bent down, giving Sirius an indulgent kiss, before messing his hair as Sirius yawned.

“Unfair!”

“I apologise, your highness. Perhaps I can make it up to you?” Remus winked.

“I’ll consider it.”

“’Consider it’ my ass. Anyway, breakfast’s ready. I promise for once, I haven’t managed to summon a demon.”

“How could you? You know how I feel about Patrick!” Sirius flailed his arms around wildly, wiping away imaginary tears.

“Who the everloving fuck is Patrick?”

“Moony?!” Sirius wore a look of fake shock. “Patrick is the love of my life! The most beautiful demon to ever exist!”

“Me?!” Remus joined in, pulling on a mocking accused face.

“Sharing is caring, Moons, you know that.”

“But I’m not in the mood for sharing you,” growled Remus, slipping into the bed and kissing him deeply again.

Remus’s hands travelled into Sirius’s hair, as the kiss deepened and grew more passionate. It was heaven to Sirius- really, he wished he was woken up like this every day.

That was, before Remus hastily broke it apart, muttering a small “shit,” to himself.

Sirius frowned, earning him a stuck out tongue from Remus. “I left the toaster on. If you don’t want your house on fire-”

“It already is with y-”

“It already is with my burning future, and that’s the end of it.”

“Moony, come back!” Sirius stretched his hands out and tried to grab Remus as he climbed out of bed, ignoring Sirius’s cries with a grin on his face.

Scowling fondly, Sirius rubbed at his eyes and decided to get out of the bed. Quickly using the bathroom, he was in the kitchen, where the delicious smell grew even more, in less than ten minutes.

“Moonyyyy,” drawled Sirius, wrapping his arms around Remus, and nuzzling his head in the crook of his neck.

“Yes Pads? I’m trying hard not to burn your toast, keep that in mind.”

“I want you.” Sirius started pressing small kisses along Remus’s neck, drawing a chuckle from Remus.

“One sec, just finish your meal- don’t you dare say what I think you will. I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

“Moony, are you leaving me? Moony,” Sirius wailed as Remus walked towards the bathroom.

“Jesus, Sirius, I’ll be back before you know it.”

And with that, he slammed the bathroom door shut.

“Who even is Jesus,” grumbled Sirius, walking towards the frying pan, which instantly lifted his mood.

He could spend hours watching Remus somehow heat up food, or fry an egg, or do millions of other mesmerizing things with this metal plate that lit up on fire.

Some of the muggle gadgets Remus used were quite extraordinary, and Sirius felt really foolish for not having such efficient things in the wizarding world. Such as a frying pan.

Suddenly, a large, metallic sound scared Sirius out of his skin. Two pieces of black bread jumped up and almost towards Sirius, and a tearing scream escaped him.

Cold fear filled his body, and his mind was filled with hundreds of different types of dark magic swirling through the insides of the machine. With counter-curses ready on his tongue, Sirius aimed his wand at the thing, shouting the spells at the top of his mind.

The machine shook, before metal springs jumped out of it, scaring Sirius even more.

“Moons! Help! Something’s here- oh no- please!”

“Pads?!” Remus’s worried face could be seen through the smoke now coming from the damned machine.

“It- it made a huge noise! And the bread you put in it threw itself at- at me! Listen, we have to take it to the ministry- or at least James’s-”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” said Remus with a grin, before bursting into fits of laughter. He sounded almost delirious.

Sirius felt confusion, and the smallest shred of sadness that he pushed aside. Was his spell wrong? Did he aim the spells at the wrong thing?

“Oh my- oh my god, Pads, I- I love you,” said Remus between giggles, slowly nearing Sirius.

As he got closer, Sirius saw tears in his eyes, and with that contagious laugh, he couldn’t help chuckling too. Though he didn’t know what for. Remus’s palms cupped his face, and he quickly kissed his cheek between laughs.

Once the laughter died down- which took far too long- Remus waved his wand and mutter a quick “reparo totallum,” getting the machine back to new.

“Okay, Pads,” he started, waving to the machine, which made Sirius feel oddly uncomfortable. “This is a toaster. When you keep the bread in, it toasts it.”

“So why’d it explode and throw bread at me?!”

Remus burst out in laughter again, but managed to only just compose himself. “When it’s done, it does that. The bread jumps out, so you know when it’s ready.”

“It was supposed to make that fucking possessed sound?!” Sirius looked frantically between the toaster and Remus, his hands flying wildly above him.

“Yeah, it sometimes scares muggles too. But no, it-” Remus chuckled, and wiped a tear from his eye. “It’s not filled with dark magic. It’s normal.”

“That- that thing is normal?! Get it out of our house!”

“If you insist, Pads,” chuckled Remus, slowly kissing Sirius in between breaths of chuckles.

Which would explain why, later that afternoon, the strange but lovable couple on the fifth floor of an extremely old apartment were selling the most efficient- possibly altered by magic- toaster, that everyone seemed to fawn over.

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concussed-to-pieces · 3 years

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Nine

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Paladin Danse had felt like the husband in one of those pre-war picnic advertisements the whole damn evening. After helping Codsworth carve the roast, the large man had assisted Backhand in making up plates for everyone. Roasted carrots and mashed gourd made their way onto the plates as well before the Longs had shown up to sit at the rickety old picnic table. It was a bit like taking a shift in the mess hall, though it had been several years since Danse had been required to do such a task.

Despite Codsworth's ramshackle appliances (and the paladin hesitated to even label them as such), the robot appeared to be outstanding at making do with what it had. It easily managed the extra pot and cooking sheet, numerous arms deftly keeping everything from over or under-cooking. Danse was duly impressed.

Sturges arrived with an elderly woman clinging to his arm, the aforementioned Mama Murphy if Danse had to guess. She was a frail-looking thing even by Commonwealth standards, all bundled up against the balmy evening air.

Backhand greeted her warmly, the knight drawing her into a careful hug before urging her to take a seat.

Everyone gathered around the table and the environment was one of lax comradery, much to Danse's surprise. He had never been involved in a true family dinner, but this seemed to be something like what he had heard about. It was a little cozier than the mess hall on the Prydwen; he kept bumping elbows with Backhand and the woman kept brushing it off like it was nothing, laughing at his stern apologies. Jun plied Danse with a variety of questions about the Brotherhood which he did his best to answer, while Marcy and Sturges asked Codsworth for seconds. All the while Dogmeat begged from anyone that would offer him attention, ending the meal with his head resting on Mama Murphy's thigh as the old woman absently scratched him behind the ears.

It was...it was nice.

But now, warm and well-fed, lying on the mattress he had procured, Danse found himself wide awake. His thoughts wandered to the massive machine Sturges was constructing on the outskirts of town, the molecular relay . Could it be possible that the Institute had no true physical openings to the Commonwealth proper? It seemed like a villain's scheme out of those illustrated paperback manuscripts the squires loved to read, not something that had any basis in reality.

Though Ingram had weighed in on the matter, she had also believed it to be fantasy, entirely relegated to the world of theory. As such, she may have been a bit more wild with her calculations. A bit more willing to push the envelope.

Danse turned over, staring at the doorway as he considered whether he ought to bring up his concerns to Backhand. This was her son at stake. But it would do her no good to get blown to pieces by some malfunction or miscalculation.

Hell, they hadn't exactly covered experimental methods of travel in advanced training. The large man sighed and grudgingly slipped from the bed, digging his fatigue pants out of his pack.

He crept across the hallway, noticing a light still shining from beneath the door of Vega's room. At least he wouldn't be waking her.

Gingerly, Danse rapped his knuckles on the door. "Knight Vega?" There was no response. The paladin eased the door open, his words dying on his lips as he took in the scene in front of him.

Elizabeth was sound asleep in the bed, her hands folded underneath her chin in what Danse had come to identify as her favored sleeping position. On her bedside table a single candle fluttered in the breeze from the now-ajar door, starkly illuminating the pallid cryo burns on her forehead and chin in its yellow glow.

Of course she was asleep. She was just as tired as he had been, if not moreso.

His eyes were drawn without his conscious input to the blue crib that sat empty alongside the door, the vacant area inside it a solemn, silent reminder of why he was even here in the first place.

Jesus . Danse felt stupid. What had he been planning on doing? Vega, as your commanding officer, I'd greatly appreciate it if you would come discuss my concerns with me. Pander to my needs . He grimaced at himself, shaking his head. Just what kind of fool was he? Sure Danse, she would just sit down, have some damn tea with you and let you whine about how mechanically unsound all of this seems.

He cautiously moved further into the room and snuffed out the candle before retreating and shutting the door. It would do her no good to burn the place down around her ears as she slumbered.

The paladin retraced his steps across the hall to his room, but if sleep had been reluctant before, now it was downright unobtainable . The bed was comfortable enough. Hell, it was a more comfortable bed than he had experienced in literal months . His brain simply refused to be still.

Danse groaned, staring up at the ceiling. It seemed he was in for another night of patrol duty.

He got fully dressed and ventured outside, closing the front door silently behind him before setting off down the main 'street' of the development. He barely got halfway to the large tree at the roundabout of the cul-de-sac when he heard someone calling his name.

It was Sturges, Danse realized, the other main hailing him from the top of one of the houses. "C'mon up and take a load off!" The mechanic urged, patting the roof beside him.

Danse glanced off down the thoroughfare of Sanctuary, and then shrugged. Eh, what the hell . From an elevated position he could see threats coming.

The paladin heaved himself up the ladder and plopped down beside the mechanic, declining the cigarette when it was offered. "I come up here when I got thinkin' to do." Sturges turned his face upwards. "Everythin' seems so much smaller. More compartmentalized -ish, you know?"

"I'm afraid I cannot sympathize, civilian." Danse replied, wishing he didn't sound quite so stiff.

"Look up for a minute, man. Take in the view. Then try and tell me everythin' down here ain't small potatoes."

Danse dutifully obliged, tilting his head back to observe the sprawling cosmos high above. It was hardly his first time gazing at the stars and pretending to think deep thoughts. He said as much to Sturges, who chuckled.

"I used to sit up here and wonder how I got to be so good at tinkerin'. I don't remember much about where I came from, not like how other folks do. Can't recall bein' little, or havin' anyone else around. It's all just kinda' vague." He took a contemplative drag off the cigarette. "I figure I must have come from the Institute. Maybe them Railroad boys got hold of me, smuggled me out like a puppy from a pet shop." He gave Danse a lazy grin. "Of course, it don't matter much either way. Now, I'm workin' to bring 'em down. At the end of the day, I'm makin' myself useful. And if I really am a synth, I get a kick out of the idea of all them bigwigs losin' their shit over somethin' I did."

Danse knew that his first response ought to be immediate apprehension of the mechanic, followed by interrogation and eradication. But something about what Sturges had said resonated with him, settled in his stomach like a lead weight. "You assume you are a synth merely because your early memories are not as clear as they ought to be?"

Sturges waved him off. "Nah nah, like...they're not really there . I mean, they're there, but it's all kinda'...I 'unno, sterile . Lots of blanks in between, more than the gaps people talk about when they got trauma n' such. Can't remember losin' my first tooth. Breakin' a bone. Whether I had a family. Little things that add up." He glanced over at the other man after a few silent seconds. " Damn , you alright? You're white as a sheet. You been gettin' enough sleep?"

Sterile . That was a word Danse had privately attributed to his own early memories long before this moment. Devoid of any defining characteristics, any instance of real impact . Just hazy, irradiated landscapes and gray ruins. Alone, always alone.

He had known, vaguely, deep down, that most people seemed to have the ability to recall important periods from their childhood that he simply lacked. He had chalked it up to being an orphan, being forced to survive on his own from a tender, unknown age.

But…

But what if it was something far more sinister?

"I just have a lot on my mind." Danse replied finally.

...

It took him four days. Four days where he was out of his armor more often than he was in it, four days of the two of them sitting in what was once her living room as they pored over tattered schematics, defunct wills and shady paper trails of all kinds.

Four days of watching her absently tuck a lock of hair back behind her ear. Four days of her being blissfully, wonderfully armor-free as well. Four days of just getting to be in proximity of her without anything going horribly wrong.

It only took him four days.

Vega had chosen to wear an appropriately light skirt for their less than taxing work of the day, the ragged pink fabric pooled around her as she sat on the floor and studiously sorted through yet another box of somewhat suspicious documents. The sun was setting, a radstorm hanging low on the horizon in the distance. Its green glow muted the pinks and oranges down to a dull yellow, wraith-like beams making their way through every unpatched crack they could find. The light struck the lenses of her glasses when she bowed her head to look closer at a document, the motion sending a few weak prisms scattering across the opposite wall.

Danse couldn't help himself, his mouth dry when he gruffly blurted out, "you look nice today."

Elizabeth gave no indication that she noticed he had said anything, only looking up after several seconds had gone by. "Sorry, what?" She apologized, blinking behind her thick glasses as a troublesome curl slipped forward over her ear to frame her cheek. "I was engrossed in this thrilling tale of larceny."

Danse chuckled feebly, thanking God that she hadn't heard him. "Ah, nothing. Sorry to have interrupted your reading material." His hands twitched, and then clenched on his thighs after she smiled benignly at him and returned to her reading.

Her divorce papers had been among the many documents they sifted through. She had read them aloud, making a theatrical endeavor out of the whole thing. Backhand stood and paced, gesticulating and apparently imitating how her ex-husband had done his job in the courtroom. Danse had laughed at the time. But all the while he wondered about how Nate had treated her, and at her animosity towards the nickname that the man had apparently bestowed upon her. Their divorce was obviously far from amicable.

A nickname. That was essentially all she had left after the divorce she had requested, that and the child which was born on the same day that they finalized the papers.

" He had me sign them in the hospital." Backhand had told him, her voice a little less bright. " I had just come from getting Shaun scooped out of me and he was already in my room. I couldn't even lift my arm to sign. One of the nurse robots had to help me. " Her eyes were far away when she continued, " he didn't even want to see Shaun ."

Danse knew logically that not every human being was cut out to be a parent. Nowadays, it was enough of a struggle just to survive. But he found himself wishing, stupidly , that he had been there two hundred years ago. Wishing that he had been present to send Nate packing, with or without his damned papers.

Finding Elizabeth wounded at Fort Independence had been bad enough. The idea of her laying limp in a hospital bed, half-dead from the effort of trying to give birth with some cretin badgering her into signing divorce papers--Danse wasn't sure how his blood could retroactively boil, and yet here he was.

" He wanted kids ." Elizabeth had said. She never mentioned what she had wanted.

It was becoming increasingly difficult not to think of her as simply Elizabeth, despite the paladin constantly mentally correcting himself. Knight Vega . General Vega . It was becoming increasingly difficult to stop daydreaming about a different life, where the two of them eked out a companionable existence and enjoyed tea in the evenings.

He was so lost. He wondered if she would let him kiss her and in the next breath scolded himself for such a ludicrous idea. She had a life already , she had her dog, Sturges, Jun and Marcy, Mama Murphy, this little settlement. She had the Minutemen and Preston. There was no room for him here. He was an assistant on her quest. He had promised to help her find her son and Danse kept his word, even if it involved things that weren't his to promise.

Danse still couldn't reconcile with truly thinking about her like that since the police station, his body wracked with guilt every time his mind wandered a little too far south. Self control was one of the few things he had left in this world, and Danse did his best to force his thoughts to be chaste when he was alone at night, did his best not to think about what Haylen had said to him during his visit with her and Rhys.

" It's okay to like her, you know. " The scribe had remarked, her smile soft and knowing as her fingers twined with Rhys'. " You're still allowed to enjoy your life, Paladin ."

It was futile. It was pointless.

But wasn't that how everything always turned out with him.

…

Sturges claimed that the machine was ready and Backhand couldn't resist throwing her arms around him. She knew he probably couldn't breathe.

"Tomorrow mornin', bright an' early, we'll fire the bitch up." Sturges grinned, slapping her on the back before pulling away. "Fingers crossed our luck holds and you'll be back with your little boy."

"I can't thank you enough for this." Backhand murmured, taking his hands in her own. "Seriously, from the bottom of my heart Sturges, thank you ."

"Shucks ma'am, you ain't gotta' get all sentimental on me. I'm just happy to help." Sturges replied with his easy grin. "After what you did for us in Concord, this ain't nothing."

"Congratulations, kid." Mama Murphy said from her chair, wheezing a little. She had asked to be moved outside earlier in the day, as it was pleasantly warm in the sun. Sturges and Jun had carried her throne out by the foundation where Sturges had been constructing the 'slapdash relay' as he had dubbed it. "You'll be on top of those Institute eggheads in no time."

"Now, I need you to know a few things for tomorrow." Sturges cautioned Vega. "There ain't no sure way to test this thing. We're flyin' blind, unfortunately. I can't guarantee your safety, General. I'd advise you to treat this like your old army endeavors. Not to be grim or nothin', but just...well, make your peace. Smoke 'em if ya' got 'em." Sturges advised, smiling wanly.

"I'll get in touch with Preston." Backhand replied, believing she understood what the mechanic was getting at. "I won't leave you guys twisting in the wind if I get turned inside out or something." She tried to joke.

"It ain't us he's concerned about, kid." Murphy piped up, watery eyes fixed on Vega's face. "You better talk to that man of yours. Make sure he knows."

"Man?" Backhand asked in confusion.

"Your gentle giant, kid."

"Oh. Oh! " Vega blushed furiously even as she tried to explain that Danse was only here as her sponsor for the Brotherhood, nothing more.

Mama Murphy hummed knowingly, "kid, you can't hide nothin' from ol' Mama Murphy. It's okay that you're anxious. I don't need the Sight to know that you been through a lot." She patted Vega's hand. "Go on, kid. You'll be fine."

It was on trembling legs that Backhand sussed out Danse after her radio conversation with Preston.

" You don't owe the Minutemen a damn thing, General. " Preston had said firmly. " Ronnie will be more than up to the task, if this is where we part ways. I hope you find your son, General Vega, and the Minutemen thank you for everything you've done. You gave us hope , and that isn't an easy thing to find ."

Danse was, as ever, working on his armor. He seemed to maintain his gear almost obsessively. Currently he had one of the legs detached from the frame, painstakingly sweeping the sand and grit out of the joints so he could apply a fresh coat of grease.

"Paladin Danse?" Vega asked, embarrassed by how her voice squeaked. "C-Can I get a word with you?"

"Of course, Knight Vega." Danse replied, placing the leg off to one side and picking up a rag to wipe the excess grease away. He propped his hip up on the power armor station, looking at her expectantly.

Backhand's words dried up and she cleared her throat. "I um, should be able to try to get into the Institute tomorrow." She managed to say.

Danse's eyebrows rose. " Really . Sturges truly has that much faith in his machine?" The man asked, not unkindly. "I can't find any fault with it, of course. What people like he and Ingram can do has always been incomprehensible to me. I am incredibly curious to see whether the device works. Will you permit me to see you off?"

"That's kind of what I wanted to speak with you about." Backhand said hesitantly. "Danse, I...I just wanted you to know that…"

Oh she was a coward , just the worst kind of coward! Danse smiled after a moment. "It's alright, Vega."

Backhand blinked up at him, stunned. "It...it is?"

Danse nodded. "Venturing into uncertain territory is always a tumultuous experience. Take all the time you need. I'll be here to listen." He assured her.

She was going to cry. Oh no , oh dammit . Backhand took a deep breath in, stalling her tears for the moment. "I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate your help." She was a coward . "I-If I don't come back."

"You've been a breath of fresh air for me, soldier." Danse's hands landed on her shoulders, his sincere grin tearing chunks out of her stomach. "Despite our strange and rocky start, you've proved yourself ten times over in my eyes. I'm incredibly proud of what you've accomplished, and I hope our partnership continues even after you've rescued your son."

"Y-Yeah." Backhand sniffled, losing the fight with her tears. "Me too, Danse."

"It is entirely reasonable to be apprehensive, Knight Vega. There is no shame in admitting your trepidation." The paladin's thumbs pressed into her shoulders, idly rubbing circles. "Don't let it eat you alive."

Backhand felt like a creep. She wished she was brave enough to ask for a hug, while scolding herself for thinking that way. Danse had been such an anchor for her, it wasn't right to expect more out of him. "I won't. Thanks." She promised quietly. "I should probably...go. I'm sure Marcy needs...um, something."

Danse nodded, removing his hands from her shoulders. Vega silently mourned the loss as she fled like the coward she was, certain that she had turned a violent shade of crimson.

...

I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate your help.

Danse loathed himself for clinging to those words. Loathed himself for putting his hands on her, what the fuck was he thinking? He talked a great game, but his self-control never seemed to improve.

He couldn't believe he had gushed like that. Telling her how proud he was, how glad he was to be able to work with her...she had rescued his team, rescued him .

He stared up at the ceiling and rubbed his eyes, then dragged his fingers firmly down the sides of his neck in an effort to soothe away the tension that threatened to lock him in place. His trapezius muscles in particular screamed for mercy, making him grunt and dig in a little harder. After several moments of focused attention, the spasm eased. Danse hummed, relieved. He was always concerned that the next one could be his last. He hadn't exactly treated his body with tender loving care, especially when he trained himself to a pulp.

The rush of endorphins was what did him in every time he worked out, the triumphant feeling when he pushed his body that much further past his previous limits.

Danse absently began to smooth his palms down his thighs as his mind wandered. When he caught himself, he tore his hands away like his own touch burned him. That was...God, it had been a fair amount of time, but…

Danse bit his lip. But …

The paladin shifted his weight, trying to get more comfortable and cringing every time the mattress springs squeaked. He spread his legs a little wider, one leg hanging over the side of the mattress while the other bent at the knee and pressed against the wall.

His touch was, as ever, function over form. Danse slid a hand between the waistband of his briefs and his stomach, hissing out a breath as he felt his body stir under his own fingers. The paladin just rested there for a selfish moment. It had been so long since he had touched himself.

He scrolled mentally through a catalogue of his previous endeavors and the media he had seen over the years, trying to decide on a visual to accompany his activity.

Cutler came to mind, as he always did. His smile, his eyes, the way a blush rose high on his cheekbones when he and Danse engaged in such pleasant diversions. Danse had never failed to tell the other man just how handsome he was, if only to watch his flustered reaction to the compliment.

But God, Danse would give anything to have a moment to himself that wasn't tainted with melancholy recollections. He carefully put the memory of Cutler aside and continued to think, not incredibly surprised with his brain's next course of action.

It settled on that pre-war mag he had seen passed around in the barracks, the one full of lingerie and women who looked outstanding . One of the buxom models came to mind, her blue eyes and brown hair very similar to--

Danse flinched, feeling like an idiot for immediately switching to fantasizing about Vega in some sleazy, delicate…

Barely-there…

Fuck .

Danse bit back a groan. She was pre-war, he reasoned wildly, it was only logical that he thought of her. She had curves and real muscle that wasn't simply visible due to emaciation. God, and she was beautiful to boot. He could at least admit that much.

His traitorous cock decided to make the choice for him, hardening beneath his hand while he wrestled with himself over imagining Vega in something so devastatingly attractive. It didn't have to be Vega, he rationalized, it could be anyone . Just a woman who resembled her. Entirely by chance. He absolutely wasn't about to masturbate to the idea of his ward in a skimpy outfit.

Danse pulled his undershirt up, catching the hem between his teeth to keep it out of the way. He couldn't be loud here, so hopefully the fabric would hold his embarrassing noises at bay.

His hand sank to the base of his cock, encircling it and then tugging lazily upwards. Danse almost crumpled in on himself, oh God , it had been ages . He panted out a breath, teasing the sensitive head of his cock for a moment before stroking back down. No matter his guilt, some portion of him was definitely interested in Vega. Beggars couldn't be choosers when it came to stealing a private moment in the Brotherhood, and so he gave in.

Danse jerked himself off with long, smooth motions, doing his best to keep his pace even. There was nothing worse than falling out of rhythm with his imagination.

God, she was probably so damn warm, so wet , tight, hot . Danse choked a little when he wondered what she would sound like, utterly devoted to his fantasy now. Would she tell him to be quiet, or would she let him ramble? Let him kiss every part of her body, let him devour her, taste her on his tongue…

Danse bit back the groan he desperately wanted to let escape at the idea of her calling his name or calling him paladin while he ate her out, " fuck ," he breathed softly, squeezing the base of his cock.

Elizabeth , he wanted to say her name out loud, God he wanted to say it so badly, he could feel an ache in his jaw from how hard he was biting his undershirt. He wanted to say her name until she loved it again, until whatever hurt she felt over it vanished into nothingness. He used to call me Beth . The man who was Shaun's father. The man she had married.

Danse knew it was stupid for him to be irritated by a man who had been dead for around two hundred years. But she wasn't Beth. She was Elizabeth .

He wanted to bury his hands in her hair, kiss down her neck, learn every scar and mark on her body. At the same time he feared her getting to know him in that manner, really know him. How greedy and undeserving he was, how much of a failure he was.

It was futile to think about. Pointless, even. These feelings, these desires...nothing would ever come of them. Danse knew that. This was just a means to an end and his damned heart, his emotions were going to make a mess of everything.

He silently spilled his release onto his stomach and then went slack, gasping for breath as his cock twitched and jumped against his belly.

The paladin threw an arm over his eyes, grateful at least that his body understood the age-old cue to let him get some damn rest.

...

He didn't sleep well, but at least he slept. Danse was up before the sun, his eyes heavy as he ran through his gear check and suited up in his armor.

Backhand emerged from her house, clad in her combat armor and armed only with her pistol. Danse noted that she had dark circles under her eyes as well, the young woman sipping coffee from her metal mug like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

"Want some?" She asked Danse, darting back inside when he nodded in reply.

The two of them made their way to the old foundation where Sturges had built the relay, companionable silence filling the air between them.

Danse watched the sun rise, his eyes drifting to Elizabeth every now and again. She appeared to simply be enjoying the peace, her own eyes closed as she drank her coffee cross-legged on the foundation.

The paladin cleared his throat. "Knight Vega, I-"

"Up bright an' early, eh?" Sturges called from the residence he appeared to have claimed as his own. "Be with ya' in a moment, General!"

Backhand tipped her mug to him in acknowledgment, looking up at Danse curiously. "You were saying, Paladin?"

If something happens to you, if you don't come back, if I don't say the things that I wish I could- - "Do you have that lucky bandanna of yours?" Danse asked instead, crushing the sentimental nonsense down. "I imagine it may prove useful for ensuring your success."

Backhand laughed, patting her pocket. "Always carry it on me, Danse. The homeland takes care of their own."

Danse inclined his head and fell silent once more, watching as Sturges fiddled with the control podium. Electricity began to arc and sputter from the generators placed around the site, making the mechanic frown and readjust a few dials.

"Not sure how long I'll be able to keep it steady for once I dial in on the signal!" He called over the racket of the generators. Vega nodded, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. Danse watched as the engineer hauled her in close and pressed something into her hands, the man speaking too quietly for Danse to hear. Then, "alright General, it's now or never!"

Vega approached the transfer plate as Sturges turned dials and punched numbers, the man's hands flying over the control panel. Danse stood off to the side, uncertain of what might happen but also unwilling to let her face this alone.

She pressed her fingers to her lips and brushed them against Danse's helmet. "I'll be back." Vega stated with a wink.

Danse rolled his eyes, chuckling a little. "Good luck, Knight." He said, his voice tinged with humor.

And then she was gone. With a flash of light and a burst of noise like a thunderclap, she vanished . Sturges' delight was only dampened by every piece of equipment he had painstakingly built immediately and fatally overloading, leaving the engineer and Danse scorched and dismayed. Danse, for his part, hadn't truly expected the device to work . He had assumed it was just a pipe dream, something for her to throw herself into so that the grief wouldn't swallow her whole.

But she had disappeared .

Part Ten

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse imagine #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse x f!sole #brotherhood of steel #bos #fo4 companions #fo4 companions imagine #bethesda #fo4 paladin danse

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the-dead-skwad · 4 years

Text

Independent Part 3 X Tig Trager X Reader

This one is a little darker.

Summary: Everything seemed to be going so well.. Your sisters abuser decided to change that.

Domestic abuse, implied smut.

Pushing the door open your dog ran at you as fast as she could. "Heyyyy baby... I'm so sorry I didn't come home." You bent down and rubbed her belly. "I know, I'm such a mean mommy."

"Good night?" You sisters came from her bedroom. She had her arms folded smiling at you.

You flashed her a smile back "You could say that."

"Holy shit bro!" She walked up to get a closer look at your head. "What did you do?"

"I head butted some slut, she wouldn't take no for an answer."

She laughed at you "Of course you did.. I'm going to take Harley for a walk. I fancy a bit of sunlight."

You stopped fussing Harley "Are you sure? I can take her."

"I'll be fine sis, besides you gotta take a shower before the paint starts peeling of the walls."

"Hey!" You threw a cushion from the couch at her, "It aint that bad."

"You smell like an ashtray made of butt holes." She threw it back.

"It's not that bad." You lay back on the carpet. "My head is pounding."

"Here.." She threw some tablets at you "I knew you would need them."

"Ughhh you're the best."

"Right, I'm taking Harley out. Get in that god damn shower!" She picked up her lead and shook it. Harley went crazy nearly bouncing out the door.

You had to peel yourself off the floor. You wandered into the bathroom and turned the water on. As it warmed up you looked in the mirror. You body was like a dot to dot of hickeys. "Christ, what have you gotten yourself into." You laughed at yourself before stepping in the shower. The water was so refreshing. It had been so long since you had done the whole all nighter party thing, you forgot how exhausting it was.

You didn't want to get out but you had to. Skipping out into your room your found out some comfy clothes to wear. A pair on black shorts and a vest was perfect. Normally your comfy clothes consisted of over sized track pants and a huge tshirt. But seeing as you had company coming over. You tied your long H/C up in a cute messy bun and enough makeup to make you look natural but not like the living dead.

You started to make a coffee when your doorbell rang. "Did you forget your keys? You know we have spare..." You expected your sister to be there but it was Tig "Oh, I wasn't expecting you yet."

"I know but I couldn't stay away." He looked you up and down. "God look at you." He practically pounced on you. Picking you straight up so you could wrap your legs around him. He slammed you against the wall next to the door. You took the hand that wasn't holding onto him and slammed the door closed. You didn't want the neighbors to see this.

"Oh jesus Tig." You panted as he kissed and nibbled down your neck.

"OH JESUS BRO!" Your sister screamed from the door way. Tig dropped you instantly.

"I'm sorry dude, I thought you would be longer." You laughed at her.

She rolled her eyes "I'm assuming you're Tig." She stuck her hand out. "Yeah," He shooker hand "And you're Meg."

"That's me."

Harley charged at you and full speed. You dropped down so she could jump in your arms. "Hello baby, did you have a nice walk?"

Tig bent down too "She's cute." He gave her a pet.

"And she likes you." You stood up, "Get comfy I'll grab that coffee I was making."

Meg joined you in the kitchen. "He's...."

"What?"

She shrugged "I dunno, he seems nice. Just a little older than I would have expected. Now that blonde that works there he's a looker."

"And so is Tig. Look man, I know being with one of those guys can be rough but I like him."

"As long as you're happy and you're safe bro."

You pulled her in for a hug "I would never do anything to put us in danger bro. Love you man."

"Love you too. Also I don't ever want to see that again."

You laughed as you walked into the living room. Looking at him fussing your dog you swear your heart grew a little.

It had been weeks since you and Tig had your first date, things were even more perfect than you could have asked for. Everyone welcomed you so well and they already treated you like family.

It was a hot day but being in the studio with the air-con blasting was perfect. You were sat drawing up a piece for Gemma when the door went. "Hey. One second." You called over.

"Hey." It was Clay.

"Oh," You stood straight up and went to the front of the studio "What can I do for you?"

"I was meant to pop by a while ago. See how things are."

"Yeah they're fine. No problems here."

He paced around a little looking at all your art work "I know you had some issues with a guy beating your sister. You know we would have taken care of that, even before you became part of the family."

"I appreciate that but I took care of it."

He chuckled "Yeah, I saw."

Your phone on the counter buzzed, you didn't want to be rude but he nodded for you to answer it. It was your neighbor "Y/N please! You need to get here! Somethings happened!" She was screaming down the phone.

"I'm coming now! Just hold on! I'm on the way!" You put the phone down. "I'm sorry, I have to go.. Something happened at the house."

"What do you need?"

You both jumped on your bikes "Get Tig. Come to mine. It’s could be a false alarm but I might need you."

You sped down the road. It took you literally two minutes to get there. Nearly throwing your bike to the ground you ran up the path, the door was wide open. When you walked in the whole room was turned up side down. You thought it could be thieves. "Meg? Harley? You in?" No response. "Meg?" You ran down the hall to her room. She lay there in a pool of her own blood. "MEG!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. You turned to see Jax in your doorway "She's still breathing. Call 911! NOW!"

You lay on the ground holding your sister till they arrived. She was beaten black and blue. The paramedics took her away. As soon as the flashing lights disappeared you ran inside and grabbed her keys.

"Y/N! Where you going?" Jax shouted after you but you couldn't think out of anger.

Just as you pulled away you saw Tig arriving at yours. "Where she going?" He shouted to Jax over his engine.

"Her sisters been beaten real bad. She drove off without saying anything."

"Shit! Follow me, I know where she's going."

You stood in front of his house, screaming at the top of your lungs, tears streaming down your face "COME ON YOU WEAK PATHETIC PIECE OF SHIT!" You grabbed a brick and threw it through the window "COME OUT AND FIGHT! YOU THINK YOU'RE SO TOUGH BEATING ON WOMEN!" You went to the front door and kicked it as hard as you could. After a few tries it busted down.

"Y/N!" Tig's voice came from behind you. As you looked at him he could see the pain in your eyes "Baby, please let us do this. You're sister needs you right now."

"He needs to know he can't do this." You were shaking on the spot.

He held his arms out to you "I know and we can do that for you. It's what we're good at."

Five for six of the club stood there waiting for you to walk to Tig so they could storm the place, when all of a sudden something smashed over the top of your head. The only thing you heard was Tig shouting before you hit the ground and blacked out.

#tig trager #tig trager imagine #tig imagine #alex tig trager #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller imagine #clay morrow imagine #gemma morrow imagine #tig trager x reader #tig x reader #insert reader

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naptoons · 4 years

Text

Lockdown - Zabdiel De Jesus

Theme: fluff and angst I guess & google translated spanish.

Warnings: cute shit with a little sad shit

A/N: okay this song is literally the cutest and I couldn’t imagine anyone fitting this concept but zabdiel🥺 I hope you guys like the angst / fluff🖤 I love you all.

You’ve always had a crush on Zabdiel, he was always there to help you through whatever you were comfortable with telling him. He knew you sometimes better than yourself. You hated to admit you like him. Because you knew you’d end up like the other girls. Either becoming his weekdays or his one time. You didn’t want to be either. You didn’t want your heart broken again. The pain was unbearable last time, you fell hard for your ex-partner. Now you were crushing big time. Zabdiel walks over to you placing the covers over your body, laying your head on his thighs while his fingers caress your earlobe, basically helping you fall asleep faster.

“You look so tired nena, whats got you up late at night?” His voice soothing you deeper into your slumber, you brain urged you to comment “you” but your fear wouldn’t let that happen.

“Work stuff” you mumble, Zabdiel settling for a soft hum, he just draws circles on your lower back, as your ears drown out the music and laughter.

Twenty minutes later the sound of cursing and shouts dawn upon you. Later followed by Zabdiel’s voice “shut the fuck up, y/n is trying to sleep” smiling you slowly sit up snuggling yourself in the covers. Zabdiel peeks his head in the room sighing at the sight of you being awake. “I apologize for them, supposedly uno is super intense you have to scream and jump on couches” he jokes with you.

“It’s okay, I guess I slept too long anyways” you smile fixing the hoodie you had on. Time couldn’t be more awkward then it was now.

“Is that my hoodie? Wow I was hoping I didn’t lose it” his smile beams, your face turning hues of red from your nose to the tip of your ears.

“Mhm” was all you could answer, Zabdiel flops down next to you, his arms rested on the back of the couch. “So we’re going out tonight, we’re going to club then the beach, so get dress nena” his fingertips caressing your exposed skin burning you up in size. You felt like the angel in you burned the wings off. Hit too close to the candles flame. Nodding your head Zabdiel helps you up from the couch, opening the door for you to walk out. He’s a gentleman. The type any girl would fall for. His energy is contagious. The butterflies were to powerful. You’re surprised they haven’t exposed you. Richard turns his head your direction smiling.

“Sorry we woke you up precioso” he engulfs you in a hug “it’s okay, I was waking up anyways”

“Yeah Zabdiel was about to beat us up for waking you up” Joel comments very humbling

“This man hella overprotective of you, makes me think it’s something more than just a friendship” Christopher sticks his tongue out in a very nsfw gesture Zabdiel walks over to him but Christopher gets up before he can lap around there. Laughing at how they’re playing a game of cat and mouse, I walk upstairs to my room. They all decided to come over, we were watching a movie in that room and you got tired. Opening your closet door you grab the most simple but elegant. A lace bodysuit tucked into black ripped jeans. And a pair of boots.

After your shower you think about what Christopher said, those words made you feel fuzzy inside. Made you question some things and even jumped to conclusions. But you’ve cane to realization, Zabdiel is just a flirty person by nature, even his fans know that. So makes you any different? Settling for to pieces of hair laying down on each side of your ears and a slick back ponytail. Looking through the mirror you see Zabdiel slender body “maldito bebé te ves bien” [Damn baby you look good], Zabdiel stands behind you kissing your temple. Smiling you lean back on his chest playfully. Zabdiel digs his fingers into your waist adorning you from head to toe.

Zabdiel knew he needed to tell you, he felt just a strongly as you do about him, but he knew his reputation might have messed that chance up for him. “Cmon lets go!” Grabbing your hand he pulls you towards the exit, while you grab your phone and wallet in the other hand. The rest of the boys were sitting on the couch debating about something, but got quiet as we entered the room. “Aren’t y’all obviously talking about us” Zabdiel laughs.

“No se de que estas hablando” [ I do not know what you are talking about] Christopher smugly replies, you only understand half of that sentence, more or less three words. Richard gets up walking towards the front door “erick should drive, since he can’t do shit” Richard pokes fun at him, You put on a pout face seeing how they bullied him. You walk over and hug him around his waist, cheek on his chest.

“Don’t worry, at least we don’t need alcohol to have fun” you back him up

“Yep, you’re right about that” he smiles wrapping his arms around your shoulder. Zabdiel stood in the background feeling a little jealousy brewing in him. Turning on his heel he walks out the door, swiping the keys on your table you follow pursuit.

“Someone has to sit on a lap” Erick shutters

“You’re thé driver, you ain’t got nothing to worry about, I call shotgun!” You yell just as you’re about to hop in the front seat Zabdiel pulls you into him. “You’re sitting on my lap” without any hesitation he pulls you on his lap, while the rest sit down in the seats. Erick looks back at you smiling.

“Watch your head Zabdiel is built like a jungle gym” he enlightens the situation

“Start climbing y/n, see what lies at the top” Christopher chimes in, getting a smack to the back of his head from Zabdiel. You have no choice but to laugh. You feel his hand on your waist pulling you in closer. “You comfortable?” You ask looking back at him

“Yeah I’m good you?” He asks

Smiling you reply “yes”

Arriving at the club, you saw a couple of his friends, including the girl he’s friends with benefits with. She looked beautiful nevertheless, she smelled like coco Chanel, mixed with the breeze of coconut. She was never bitter to you. I guess cause you hid your feelings so well she wasn’t aware you had the biggest crush on him. Zabdiel walks over to her engulfing her in a hug, her fingernails rubbing up and down his back. It was painful to watch so you softly shoulder bumped Erick and he did the same. “I’m hungry” you complain to him

“Yeah same let’s go eat” you and Erick start racing to the dinner part of the bar, Zabdiel watched you in the distance. Smiling at your happiness even if it wasn’t with him. “Zabdiel, Cmon lets get some drinks” Isabella grips onto his arms. Zabdiel nods follow her over to the bartenders. After you finished eating Erick wanted to dance at first you declined feeling socially awkward by the crowd, but Erick promised if it was too much you guys could go back to sitting down and play with the darts in the back of the club. Erick and you started dancing the rhythm of the beat. Y’all bodies grinding and sticking to each other, blending in just like everyone else. It wasn’t so bad you thought to yourself.

“See! Was it so bad?!” Erick shouts over the music, giggling you shake your head in rejection. “No! It isn’t!” Zabdiel was on the couch with Isabella watching how you guys were glue to each other’s body. He wanted that with you. Isabella and Zabdiel are both in a jealous rage. Isabella understood that he didn’t love her, he loved you. She wanted to make your heartbreak so you’d stay away from him. Erick has left to go use the bathroom, Isabella took the opportunity to speak to you. Kissing Zabdiel on the cheek she gets up from his lap making her way over to you.

“Hey y/n how are you?” She asks

“I’m fine, hot is all” you reply

“Yeah it is hot in here, listen sweetie I have something to tell you” her hands lifelessly laid upon your arm “Zabdiel isn’t ready for a relationship, he’s told me that he only sees you as a friend, he couldn’t cross that brother-sister boundary, you know he’s the flirty type don’t take it personal” if you could throw up flowers like a Hanahaki disease. This would be the moment. All this scenarios they played in your head turned from maybes to imaginations.

“Oh, well thanks for tell me I guess” upon hearing your somber tone on the inside she was quiet glad now you would turn away from her “man”

“I’m sorry baby, I know you liked him a lot, but he isn’t worth giving your heart too, he’ll just break it” Isabella pats your back walking back over to Zabdiel” your ears becoming numb to the blaring sound of the music. You watch her sit down on Zabdiel’s lap his hands wrapped around her waist. Smiling as they have a conversation. You told yourself not to fall hard for him. Just in case something like this were to happen. Erick comes out smiling, but that smile soon fades upon seeing the way your lower lip poked out in despair.

“Hey y/n are you okay?” He asks caressing his thumb on your forearm

“Erick.. May I be alone for fifteen minutes? I’ll be at the beach okay?” you force a smile, his eyes downgrading in shades of concern.

“Sure, I’ll come get you in fifteen minutes” Erick smiles, he kisses your temple watching you walkout the door before he turns around heading straight towards Zabdiel.

Zabdiel stops laughing once he sees the look upon Erick face, he knows somethings wrong. “Que Paso ?” [what happened]

“Something happened with y/n, she looked hurt, like she heard something and was disappointed by it” Zabdiel pushes Isabella off of him. She tries to grab his hand but he swings it away.

“What did you say to her?” Zabdiel growls, usually it would cause a bundle of joy in the pit of her stomach, but this sounded like a raging monster.

“Papi I didn’t say anything, maybe she was just thinking about something” she lies, Richard smugly drinks from his cup

“pequeña eres una gran mentirosa” [ little girl you are a big liar” Zabdiel turns in his direction “bro she went and told y/n you’re not in love with her, and that you aren’t ready for love, she also said you’d just hurt her” Zabdiel’s fists balles up wanting to punch a wall or a table but calms down ready to tell her off “when I come back home, I want your shit gone, I’m changing my number as well, get the fuck outta my face” Zabdiel looks back at Erick asking where you’ve gone too.

You were sitting close by the shore not to close to be swept away but close enough the waves crashed against your toes. Wiping the tears from your eyes that blended in well with the salt water in front of you. Why did you have to get your hopes up? You thought to yourself. Hearing the sound of feet against the sand you sniffed and dried your eyes. “It hasn’t been fifteen minutes yet Erick but I’m coming” you get up from your position as you turn around you realize it’s not Erick. But the boy you’ve fallen in love with.

“Oh hey Zabdiel” you couldn’t talk to him right now, you didn’t know how you could talk to him. Things would be awkward. It already was awkward but you always played it off by flirting back. Now you couldn’t do that. Trying to walk past him he grabs your wrist making you stand in front of him, as he towers over you. “What don’t you wanna go back inside? Your girlfriend is probably worried”

Zabdiel rolls his eyes “you know damn well she isn’t my girlfriend”

“Well Isabella is waiting”

“Can’t you see I don’t give a fuck about her? Y/n I’m here cause Erick told me you were out here”

“Your point?” You didn’t mean to be cold,but you wanna let him get close, your heart is already broken. Twice could make you run away from him.

“For fuck sakes y/n I like you” Zabdiel bluntly comments.

Shaking your head you feel the tears roll down “no you don’t Zabdiel, I don’t wanna be just another girl to you, I want more then that I deserve more than that, I don’t want to feel my heart break no more” your voice floating in the window “cause the minute that we touch lockdown, Zabdiel because I am in love with you, I might never want to let you go”

Sniffling you drop your arm still in his grasp “just tell me please, you got someone else, so I can make easy to not go there” you let out one last comment.

“ I can’t lie to you. I don’t have anyone else and I’m not in love with Isabella, it’s always been you, you idiot” not giving you anytime to respond, the sun and the moon met, as his warmth cascade over you, his fingers placed gently on both sides of your cheek, holding the both of y’all together like glue, the waves crashing against the both of your feet’s. A gust of wind flowing in between you two. It was something and more you’ve always dreamt of. Pulling away from your space, a string of saliva becomes a divider between you two. His eyes swimming in love, but also in beauty because of you. “Y/n i meant what I said, I’m deeply and utterly in love with you, fuck more then I should be, it scares the hell out of me, but feeling that jealousy tension today I know that this feels right”

“You were jealous?” You ask curiously

“That’s all you heard?” Zabdiel laughs “yeah, I got very jealous today, what Christopher said is true, I’m very overprotective of you”

“I love you too” honey voice came from your lips, instantly melting Zabdiel, his smile so milky and delicate. Leaning in he crashes his lips upon yours with only one hand on your jawline.

Erick has to drive us home, everyone was drunk besides him and I. Zabdiel was tipsy he could’ve drive but he wanted you to sit on his lap again. Getting out the car the cold wind hit my body. We said out a little longer, playing with the water, kissing, watching the moonlight against the water. It was something that only happened in movies. “Here” Zabdiel wraps you up in his jacket, smiling up at him he kisses your forehead. Something that always gave you butterflies. Even with him bring your boyfriend now. Erick Opens the front door for us, while everyone followed pursuit.

“Finally you told her z! Told you she felt the same” Christopher slurs his words, You giggle in how shy he is by that comment but he just picks you up taking you to his room. Closing the door behind him you scope out the room. He’s done some remodeling there were things you never seen before in his room.

“I added something you’ll love” he speaks

“Hm, what is it?” You reply

“Change into my hoodie and you’ll find out”

“I’ll do that if you take a warm shower with me” innocently you plead

“Oh, already?” Zabdiel jokes with you.

After the shower you and Zabdiel were cuddled up in his bed “so where’s the surprise?” you ask he reaches over on his nightstand grabbing what looked like a remote. He clicked it and stars appeared on the celling. Looking just like the skies you saw at the beach. Astonished by the view your eyes turn into a galaxy. And he loved it.

“How is that for a surprise?” He mumbles against your skin “so now when you come over, we can do just this” he wraps his arm around your shoulder pulling you into his chest.

“What more would you do for me?” You smile

“Whatever you want me to do, you have me on lockdown”

#cnco imagines #cnco #cnco imagine #zabdiel de jesus #zabdiel

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter seven | crab society

a/n: this chapter is so long, i had to split it right in two (i also had to post something; i don’t like going more than a few days without an update)

“Hang on, Joey—let's get some warmth into you.”

Joey shivered and trembled under the blanket as he took to the front seat next to Frank. He kept the sunglasses over his face to guard his eyes from the glare of the snow outside. Sam slid into the back seat next to Charlie, who put his arm around her to keep her warm even though the car's idling brought enough heat to comfortably ride. Frank turned the dial on the heater and they were met with a strong blast of warm air. They drove off the side of the road and began towards the main freeway. Within time, the Binghamton skyline emerged through the windshield; Frank turned his head in Joey's direction: all Sam could see was the crown of curls upon his head.

“How you feelin'?” Frank asked him. “You getting enough warmth?”

“Yeah,” Joey replied in a flat monotone. His shoulders shook under the blanket; he shuffled his feet on the hard floor.

“It's alright, man, we're almost there,” Charlie assured him, even though Sam could tell they were a ways out of town. The snow capped trees lining the sides of the road made her think of gingerbread and sugar plums, to the point it made her teeth itch. He looked over at her with his eyebrows raised up into his bangs.

“Are you warm?” Charlie asked her in a low voice.

“Getting there,” she confessed with a shudder of her shoulders. Frank peered into the rear view mirror for a second, and then again for another few seconds.

“How 'bout you two birds?” he called to them as they passed a few signs pointing to Syracuse.

“We're getting all kinds of cozy back here,” Charlie replied.

“Speaking of cozy...” Joey started but his voice trailed off. Frank looked over at him for a split second before he switched lanes.

“What about being cozy?” he asked Joey.

“All the time I was tryin' to get to the nearest pay phone, right?” he cleared his throat. “An' when I got there, I was thinkin' about cannolis.”

“Oh, man,” Frank's face lit up at the sound of that.

“Cannolis straight out of the oven—all for me, y'know?” He turned his head towards Frank, such that Sam could make out the mischievous look on his face. “I was thinkin' of stoppin' over here for a bunch of cannolis for my parents.”

Charlie turned back to her.

“You ever had fresh cannoli out of the oven?” he asked her.

“I don't think I have,” she confessed.

“You'd know if you have,” he said.

“Yeah, you'd know,” Frank called back to her. “Crafted by like—mine and Charlie's grandmother, or Joey's grandmother.”

“My grandma would make hers right from scratch,” Joey elaborated; he adjusted the blanket over his shoulders and he snuggled further down in the seat. “I remember she had this little bottle of vanilla she brought over from Italy. There was just nuthin' like it.”

“Our grandma does, too,” Charlie added.

And then it all clicked.

“I'm a California girl in the same car as three Italian guys,” she remarked.

“Yeah, you are!” Frank laughed out loud. Joey laughed along with him and then he shuddered again.

“God—God damn it,” he muttered.

“It's warm in here,” said Frank with a knitting of his eyebrows.

“I know, but—I can't get warm, though. It's horrible.” Joey shuddered and rubbed his hands on his upper arms.

“Get this old boy some liquids,” Charlie declared as they spotted a welcome sign on the side of the road.

“I want some cocoa,” Joey said as he tugged on the blanket again.

“With marshmallows?” Sam asked him with a bit of a smile on her face.

“Ooh, yes! Those little tiny marshmallows the size of my thumbnail. And maybe a glass of scotch after that.”

“Hot cocoa and then booze?” Frank was stunned. “Jesus Christ, Joey.”

“At that point, you might as well have some Irish coffee,” Charlie remarked. Sam wondered if they would in fact have a drink together later there in town; she was a year away from being able to drink in public.

“It's a little early to be drinking, too,” Frank added as he changed lanes again. “I'd like a little bit myself at some point, but I think we should at least wait until noon to indulge a bit.”

“Well, that's just kind of the day it is today, though, Frankie,” Joey insisted. “My car broke down and now I'm gonna miss my parents when I promised them I'd be there. I need a drink.”

“I'm sure you can find a way to get a hold of them,” Frank assured him as they took the next exit into the downtown area. “You got a hold of me.”

“Yeah, but I used the last of my change on it, though.”

“I can help,” Charlie assured him.

“Yeah, me, too,” Frank added.

“I'll try to, too,” Sam chimed in.

“See? You've got people looking for ya, Joey. Don't sweat it.”

Within time, they rolled into the cozy downtown part of Binghamton and Frank pulled up to the nearest coffee house there on the main block. Joey kept the blanket wrapped around his little body as the four of them strode inside for a round of hot cocoa and some other things. Sam huddled next to Joey there in the far corner of the room, but she never touched him; she had left her journal in the car. He took off his sunglasses and set them down on the table in front of them. Charlie had disappeared into the back of the coffee house for the bathroom and to search for a phone.

“My friend might have hypothermia a little bit,” Frank told the barista behind the counter.

Joey turned to Sam and a few disheveled strands of inky black hair fell down over his forehead towards his large brown eyes. She eyed the tip of his nose, which was almost perfectly straight. Complete with the heavy woolly blanket over his body, he actually resembled to a little Native American boy hailing from the Great Lakes area.

“I wish there was something I could do,” she confessed to him.

“I'll be okay,” he promised her with a small smile on his narrow face. “Thank you, though.”

She lowered her gaze to Joey's legs, which jutted out from underneath the hem of the blanket. She recalled what Aurora had told her about his checking her out when they were in the room together about to eat breakfast. She examined his knees and his lower legs: the dark denim of his jeans accentuated the delicate shape of his legs. He was nice and thin, not too thin but elegant and lovely; even from underneath the blanket, she could make out the sinewy shape of his thighs. They were tight and toned but not overly so, and they tightened up even more as he huddled down even more against the warmth from the heater vent over their heads.

Frank strode over to them with a cup of hot chocolate in either hand for the both of them. Joey reached out from the under the blanket for the cup on the left, while Sam took the one on the right. He was eager for a sip; Sam took a second look to find a few of those little marshmallows at the top of the chocolate.

He set the cup down for a second and he shuddered again.

“I can't get warm—like internally,” he confessed.

“Just drink the cocoa,” she told him in a soothing voice. “Drink it up slowly.”

Frank had returned to the counter for a poppy seed muffin for himself. Charlie emerged from the back of the coffee shop.

“Joey, there's a phone over here,” the latter announced once he was within earshot.

“Okay...” Joey took another sip and shuddered again. He then looked at Sam out of the corners of his eyes. A couple of inches of clearance separated the two of them. A voice in the back of her head told her to put her arm around him to keep him warm, much like how Charlie did that for her in the back seat. But he kept on sipping at the cup of hot chocolate, and that time, he did it at a slow pace much like how she advised him.

She blew on the top of her cup and took a sip for herself. It was warm and soft, and the marshmallows added to it to keep her warm. She looked across the table at Frank, who picked off pieces of his muffin and slipped it into his mouth. Charlie took a seat next to him and ran his fingers through his black hair.

“You didn't get something?” Sam asked him.

“Nah. I'm good.” His cheekbones filled out and the cleft in his chin accentuated when he smiled. She returned him a smile as well. Even after having lived in New York for not very long, she clicked with Frank and Charlie as if she had known them both for years. But then there was Joey, the man on her left and a blind spot of sorts.

She turned her head to him to make out the shape of the curls on his forehead and the side of his head. His skin was smooth and even silken in appearance; she had no idea if he was even welcome to the feeling of an arm around his shoulders to keep him warm.

“How're you feeling?” she asked him in a low voice.

“Still cold,” he replied without changing his expression. He took another sip of hot chocolate and that time he sipped down one of the marshmallows. “Hot cocoa's good, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” She turned to Frank. “How's that muffin?”

“Little dry. But—” He shrugged. “—it was all they had there in the case.” Sam turned back to Joey to look at his hair again. Little tight tendrils made up his bangs; stray locks jutted out from the side and crown of his head. She could run her fingers through his hair and feel the tightest of curls: she wondered about the tightness of the roots down at his scalp. Those curls looked silky and coarse at the same time.

She knew it would be a challenge to draw, and perhaps one with black ink.

“So you wanna get cannolis still?” Frank asked him.

“Nah—I think I'll help my grandma make some when I get to their place,” Joey confessed at a reluctant rate.

“Your grandma's still alive?” Sam smiled at that.

“Yeah, she's—kinda old, but yeah. Nothin' beats her cannoli, anyway.” He took another sip of hot chocolate, albeit a larger one that time. He let out a long low whistle and held the cup down to his chest. He was hiding something. That cold stony demeanor hid something from the rest of the world. She could sense it; she could see it in his eyes.

Sam took another sip of hot chocolate and downed a few of the marshmallows all the while. There was a way in there.

But there was Frank and Charlie right before her. Perhaps she could separate the drawing of them from her sketchbook: the pages were perforated after all. Or she could find another piece of paper for the drawing of them.

Once he had drank down half of his chocolate, Joey stood to his feet and, once he fixed the blanket around his body, he rounded the side of the table. Charlie gave him a bit of change; once Joey thanked him, he ambled across the floor towards the other side of the room. He looked like he was carrying a cape as he made his way over to the phone behind the counter. Frank and Charlie gazed on at her.

“So—what'd you do with your journal?” Frank asked her.

“It's in the car.” She squinted her eyes at him. “Why?”

“Just curious.” He showed her a little smile, and his two front teeth shone in the lights of the coffee shop. He had star's teeth, even as a struggling musician. She returned to Charlie, who sat right across from her.

“You got any more sex stories?” she asked him, which brought a laugh out of Frank. Charlie's face flushed with embarrassment.

“I'm afraid I don't,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “Although when Jaws came out, Frank and I stood in line at the theater to see it and we saw these two lesbians making out on the other side of the street.”

She gasped at him.

“I was like ten,” said Frank in a low voice. “He was—how old were you, Charlie?”

“I was twelve,” Charlie answered. “Yeah—” He cleared his throat and glanced about to make sure no one was eavesdropping; they were the only ones there in the coffee shop as the barista had disappeared into the back room. “—you and I got exposed to sexuality at a young age. We watched it happen from across the street.”

“I couldn't get it out of my head for like a week,” Frank added as he put in a few more bites of muffin into his mouth. “These two women on the other side of the street making out with each other and you and I looked at each other in shock.”

“We didn't tell our parents, either,” Charlie continued with a brief glimpse over at Sam.

“I mean, there was just no way we could,” Frank admitted once he swallowed down the bites. “Like, how do I say to my mom—and how do you tell your sister—that we saw two gay women together like that? We saw actual porn in broad daylight together!”

“It was something that we experienced as like pseudo brothers. I couldn't get it out of my head for days on end.”

Sam nibbled on her bottom lip. She was at a loss for words but she knew she could find her way with the two of them and that photograph Frank had lent with her. Joey surfaced from the counter, still with the blanket wrapped around his body and still with a disgruntled look on his face.

“How'd it go?” she asked him; he returned to his seat and set the cup down on the table. He huddled down next to her, still a few inches next to her.

“My father was like, 'well—it's not the first time I've lent you money to do something, son.'” He sighed through his nose and bowed his head.

��Well, at least he's willing to give you some for gas,” Frank pointed out as he stuffed the remainder of the muffin stump into his mouth.

“Yeah, but...” Joey's voice trailed off.

“But what?” Sam asked him.

“I don't wanna talk about it,” he said almost under his breath. He downed the rest of his hot chocolate right there. She turned to Frank and Charlie, who glanced at each other with looks of concern on their faces.

“We were also talking about Irish coffee earlier, and now I'm wanting some,” he confessed.

“It's not even noon yet,” Frank remarked.

“Yeah, I know.”

Sam knitted her eyebrows together. He was definitely hiding something.

She downed the rest of her hot chocolate and the four of them stood to their feet in unison.

“So what's gonna happen?” Frank asked Joey as he adjusted the blanket around his body.

“Well, my dad was gonna go out anyways,” he explained in a low voice, “—he's gonna swing by here and take me to the gas station up the street here for me. He's bringing a gas can with him, too.”

“How you feeling?” Sam asked him as she handed him his sunglasses.

“A little better—the cup of cocoa definitely helped a bit. But it's gonna be a little while before I can fully feel warm, though.” He clutched onto the blanket with one hand as he opened the sunglasses with his mouth and then slipped them on over his eyes.

“You guys can go back to the City if you'd like,” he said.

“Well, we gotta at least keep you company, though” she insisted.

“Nah, that's—that's real kind of ya—” He raised his eyebrows from behind the mirrored lenses. “—but he told me he'll be here in like ten minutes.”

She turned to Frank, who shrugged his shoulders at her, and then to Charlie, who hovered closer to her with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweat pants. She swallowed and nodded her head.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Stay warm, okay?”

“Of course,” he said with a little glimmer of a smile at her. “I'll see you guys soon.”

She wanted to crack that cool demeanor if no one else did already. Frank and Charlie led her back to the car, and in turn left Joey there alone in the coffee shop in anticipation. As she huddled down in the front seat next to Frank once again, she looked on at her journal upon the dashboard.

“I hope he's gonna be okay,” she confessed aloud.

“He will,” Frank assured her as he fired up the car again. “He's an upstate boy who's half Italian and half Iroquois Indian. He might look like a little guy but he's tough, though.”

“He was a hockey player before he showed up with us,” Charlie added.

“Really?” Sam peered over her shoulder at him with her mouth agape.

“I dunno the full details but yeah. When our producer brought him down from this town way upstate called Plattsburgh, he told us he played hockey pretty much most of his life.”

“And I think it's just cold getting to him, too,” Frank pointed out; he reversed the car out of the spot and then he almost drifted to the driveway. “I know I'd be miserable if it were me in his position. Car broke down right before you get to civilization and you use your last bit of change on a lifeline, and you totally freeze your ass off waiting for them.”

“Doesn't he have other friends, though?” Sam asked them.

“Oh, yeah. But I guess that—since it's still kinda early and it's a little out of the way—he thought we—or at least, I could come and get him.”

“It also builds a relationship with us, too,” Charlie added.

“Yeah, he is the new guy after all,” Frank recalled as they rolled out of there and returned to the freeway. “Or maybe he did call up a friend of his, and they couldn't come, and we were like a last resort of sorts. I dunno—like I said, I think the cold was getting to him. He wasn't his usual bright and plucky self.”

“He did use his last bit of change after all,” Charlie pointed out. “He's kinda anal about spending a lot of money.”

“We are, too,” said Frank.

“Kinda have to be,” said Sam.

“Yeah, right! We kinda have to be when we're still just starting out and there's not much to work with.”

They drove past a tailor shop, one with red blazers on display in the front window, and she flashed back on that dream she had had the night before. She could only recall the man next to her in the water as they held onto the nose of the plane together, and she could only recall the look of fear in his eye.

They reached the onramp and they sped up the freeway, back to the cut off and the way back to New York City. Another few hours and a few hours whereby Sam thought about what to put into that journal, which she had eventually lay down on her lap to keep the heat coming out of the vents. The three of them sat in silence all the way down to Monticello, when Charlie finally spoke.

“I think Scott wanted to tell me something.”

“Something about what?” Frank called back to him, which he accompanied with a glimpse in the rear view mirror.

“I dunno—just something about something.”

“Something something something?”

“Something something something, exactly!”

“Care to share?”

“Can't.”

“Why not?”

“I just can't, Frankie.”

“Why? We're related and we're in the same band together. We should be able to share secrets with each other. We shared Spreading the Disease with Sam here, and we kept the whole lesbian thing between us for almost ten years.”

“Scott just doesn't want me talking about it yet,” Charlie tersely said.

Frank fetched up a sigh and he glanced over at her.

“Alright, fine.”

Sam frowned at that. They were related, and so close in age that they passed off as brothers. She could sense it: they fought like brothers, and yet they kept it at bay because of her being there in the passenger seat. She glanced down at the journal on her lap and she stroked the hard cover with the pads of her thumbs.

Within time, the Twin Towers emerged from the gray sky, and the rest of the skyline followed suit.

“I'm sure Scott'll understand that we had to rescue Joey,” Frank said with another sigh.

“Yeah, it's gonna be—it's gonna be a while before we get there,” Charlie added.

Indeed, the freeway brought them back to the Bronx and they meandered their way through the heart of New York City. It was a little trip in and of itself, even with it being a stretch of freeway that led them all the way down to Manhattan. Frank took the next exit and they reached that familiar block. Sam wondered if Aurora was in at work that day, and she thought about having another round of pho with her at some point.

They hung a left and that rehearsal space entered their view. Sam looked around for Aurora's car anywhere on the block, but it was nowhere to be seen. She did recognize Scott sitting on the front step: he was wrapped in a black leather jacket, snug denim jeans, and those big black Doc Martens, and he had hunched his shoulders against the cold of the day. They parked at the curb right in front of him. Charlie climbed out of there first to talk with him; Sam followed suit, and then Frank.

“We had to rescue Joey,” Charlie told him.

“From what?” Scott chuckled.

“He ran out of gas outside of Binghamton,” Frank joined in, “and he didn't really elaborate much, but we can only assume that he called someone and they couldn't come, so he turned to us.” Sam huddled next to him, and thus the three of them congregated before Scott there on the front step.

“Brought the girl along, too!” he proclaimed with a grin and a raise of his dark eyebrows.

“Yeah, I just happened to be there when he called,” she shrugged, “I didn't wanna be alone, either.”

“So, what'd you wanna—tell me?” Charlie asked Scott.

“Huh?”

“You know—that one thing you wanted to tell me.”

Scott's eyes darted about, and then his face lit up.

“Oh, that!” He stood to his feet and he led them into the building. Frank shut the door behind them, and he and Sam stood side by side on the edge of the room.

“Apparently we got finished with the recording process ahead of schedule,” Scott explained as he strode up the hallway, “like way ahead. Jon told me we've got to do something the studio time. So I brought a surprise for you guys—” He ducked his head into the room there at the end of the hallway, and he said something. He leaned back out so the guy could come on out of there.

“Dan!” Charlie declared.

“Dan?” Sam asked.

“Dan!” Frank said.

“Dan,” Scott echoed from down the hall.

He was like a tall lanky version of Scott: a round faced boy with a thick head of jet black curls, and eyebrows as wide as a frozen fish stick over bright eyes. He wore a heavy dark sweater and snug leather jeans. He raised those eyebrows at her as if he was taken aback by her.

“Our old bassist Danny Lilker,” Scott announced; “Danny, that's Sam from California.” He ducked into the room there.

“Bright and sunny California.” Dan's voice was gentle and smooth. “What brings you to New York City?”

“A new chapter in life,” she said; Charlie disappeared into the room closest to them. “That's cool! I know what it's like to start over.”

“That's—what I've heard.” She glanced over at Frank, who fiddled with the zipper of his puffy jacket. “So what's gonna go on here?”

“I dunno. All I know is Scott said he had an ace up his sleeve and one that he wanted Charlie and some other guy named Bill to join in on together.”

“Bill,” Sam echoed.

“Bill—Milano, I think is his name? I dunno, that's what Scott told me. He knows more than I do.”

Scott emerged from the back room with a composition notebook tucked under his arm. Dan turned around to look at him.

“Seeing her,” Scott gestured to Sam, “and knowing that she's gonna do the whole art thing—it gave me an idea to make my own art.” He opened the journal to show her the drawing on the first page: a large grotesque skull looked to be made of splinters with deep set bulging eyes, a partially burnt cigar jutted out from its mouth, and a dark green army helmet atop its head. Underneath the skull read: “Sargent D. I'm not racist; I hate everyone. Speak English or die.”

“Wow,” she remarked, unsure of what to believe.

“I scribbled this down after I lay down the guitar tracks,” he explained, “I showed it to Charlie and he laughed and was like, 'dude, we should do something with that!' Told Danny about it and he had the same reaction. We started throwing around the name Storm Troopers of Death and he decided to come along.”

“So we're gonna do this?” Dan asked him.

“Yeah—if Charlie's gonna be onboard with it, anyways.”

“I'm in!” Charlie himself called out.

“So what's this mean now?” asked Sam.

“It means tacos,” Dan teased her. “Nah, it means we gotta get our asses back upstate 'cause that's where the recording studio is. And where another buncha demo tapes called Crab Society are—I'll explain it later. You can come along if you'd like—that is, if you're not doing anything.”

“I'm not doing anything. So we're gonna say hi to Joey again.”

“We're gonna say hi to Joey again, yes!”

#fanfic #fanfiction #stormtroopers of death #anthrax #anthrax fanfic #frank bello #charlie benante #scott ian #dan lilker #chapter 7 #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #also on ao3 #text #writing #joey belladonna

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lunasilvermorny · 4 years

Text

Future AU - Rowan and Luna in 2020 (Part 1)

Writing about Luna and Rowan was always my favorite part of the headcanon and now that I quit (at least for now) the game, I no longer have any reason to hold myself back from thinking about Future AU scenarios for these two.

(I didn’t mean to make Rowan such a snack, but... it is what it is.)

The year is 2020 (thank you title for revealing it already), it’s around February-March, Luna is 46 and Rowan is 47.

Hope you’ll like it!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Doctor Silver, there’s someone here to see you.”

Luna thanked the nurse and went toward the oddly dressed man. He was two meters tall with a top hat that added at least 10 cm to his height, he wore a Hawaiian shirt with a yellow cardigan on top, baggy three quarter pants with black tights underneath and flowery pink shoes.

He straightened up his glasses and gave her a warm smile when he saw her heading his way.

“Hello there-“

“What are you doing here?” she dragged him to the side and gave him an annoyed look.

“Careful, my back.” He said and rubbed the muscles of his lower back.

“And what, in the name of god, are you wearing?” she ignored him and gestured at the unfitting combination of clothes.

“What, no good?” he was surprised. “My students told me top hats are all the rage.”

“Rowan.” She tried to remain calm. “Why are you here, mate?”

“This is a nice hospital-“

“Rowan.” She frowned.

“I’m glad to see you too, Rowan.” He did a bad imitation of her voice. “It’s been so long, how are you doing?”

“I’m working.” Luna reminded him.

“But you were taking a little tea break, weren’t you?”

“I had a three minutes break!” she said defensively. “I’ve been on call for 38 hours now, I think I deserve a bloody break.”

“38 hours?” he raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the chief physician?”

“We’re short on stuff these days.” She said. “So I took the load off my colleagues, since I can manage with little to no sleep.”

“Are you sure?” he looked at the bags under her eyes.

She nodded – “I’m fine.”

“Well, since you’re fine and also on a break,“ he gave her a teasing smile when she sighed. “How about a chat?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at Hogwarts? It’s the middle of the school year.”

“Yes, but it’s also Saturday.”

“It is?” she looked exhausted when she checked her watch. “But I’ve been here since Tuesday.”

“Wow, you are tired, aren’t you?” he gave her a concerned look. “I don’t think I have ever seen you tired before.”

“What do you want, Rowan?!” she snapped at him, then immediately added- “Sorry about that.”

“I was wondering, this whole COVID-19-“

“Oh my god.” Luna rubbed her temples. “Are you seriously still hung up on that?”

“It’s just that you never explained exactly what it is and-“

“Rowan, read the fucking paper! This can’t be the only reason you’re here.”

“Well,” he gave her a guilty look. “There might be something else. You see-“

But before he finished the sentence, Luna was called back to the ER.

“I have to go, we’ll talk about it later.” She said and hurried down the corridor without saying goodbye.

“When? When are you done?” he called after her, but she disappeared behind the ER doors. “Yep, let’s talk later, shall we?” he murmured to himself and sat back on the bench next to the reception.

Luna looked out of the window; it was pitch black. She considered the possibility of sleeping in the on-call room again, but knew that if she stayed here, she wouldn’t be able to leave in the morning and she mustn’t neglect her duties as a healer. She took her car keys out of her pocket while exiting the ER, saying good night to the night-shift nurse and head toward the exit, when her eyes landed on her old friend, boringly staring at an old magazine, barely awake.

“What are you still doing here?” she said and automatically checked her watch. “Were you waiting here this whole time?”

“No, I went to the loo once or twice.” He said with a tired voice and let out a long yawn.

“Come on.” She helped him stand up and they both got out of the building into the parking lot. They walked slowly, but neither of them complained. They were too tired at this point to care.

When they got to Oliver Jr., her green 2006 Ford Fiesta, Rowan said – “We’re not really taking this muggle piece of junk, are we?”

“You can apparate if you want.” She said and got into the car, but Rowan followed her. She put on the safety belt and reminded him to do the same.

“Why? What could this piece of leather possibly do if we got into a truly dangerous situation?”

“I don’t want to be fined.” She said as she started the engine. “I couldn’t care less about their ridiculous rules.”

“Didn’t you have a repellent spell against muggles?”

“That was before I started living amongst them.” She said, making sure the mirrors are in check, but it was just an excuse to stall until her brain wakes up enough for her concentrate on driving. “My deal with the Ministry prohibits me from using any type of magic near muggles.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope.” She yawned one last time before she pressed her foot against the gas pedal and started driving. “I even had to get a driving license.”

“That is absurd.” Rowan shook his head. “What wizard in his right mind would agree to this?”

“The kind that wanted to be a doctor.” She wasn’t offended by what he said, she knew him well enough to know that he had no ill intention behind his words. “Now shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Since when?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Since I became the person that have to tend to the injured in these kind of accidents.”

“Wow, you’re taking this muggle stuff really seriously.” He almost sounded impressed.

“You might say that.” She gave him a tired smile and then looked back at the road. “So how have you been, Professor hot-shot? Your students are doing all right?”

“They are, thank you.” He said with pride. “I don’t want to take all the credit, but most of my students were basically illiterate before they entered to my classroom. Now, my 5th year students are at least an ‘E’ level, freshly ready for the OWLs.”

“You sound more like a mother than a teacher.” She teased.

“Well, you know how I am.” He nodded. “I have this brilliant student, she reminds me of you, doesn’t even have to put an effort, everything comes so easily to her and yet she still does her best. She said it’s because she wants to make me proud. My heart nearly melted.”

“Does she protect you from the bullies as well?” Luna chuckled.

“Don’t even let me start with these rotten apples.” He scrunched his nose. “Always thinking they’re the funniest, don’t care if they lose house point. Nasty little things.”

Luna stopped at a red light behind a large car with loud music blasting out of its windows.

“There is another student-“ but Luna wasn’t paying attention anymore. She saw the car started to move slowly toward the cross road, even though the light was still red.

“Hey.” She called then pressed the car horn, but whoever was in the car probably didn’t hear her. They were still moving in a slow enough pace, but if they keep going, someone might get hurt. “Hey!” she pressed the horn again, but to no avail. She opened the car door and ran toward the other car, knocking on the window to draw the driver’s attention.

Then, with a swift move, she pulled out her wand and brought the car to a stop.

Rowan looked confused. She said she wasn’t supposed to use magic, but it all became clear when Luna opened the door and an unconscious driver fell over her. Rowan hurried out of the car to assist her.

“Can you hear me, sir?” she said loudly when Rowan reached her. She pinched the Trapezius muscle near his neck, that caused the man to jerk and let out a loud grunt, then he slowly opened his eyes.

“Can I do anything to help?” Rowan asked, but Luna shook her head and got back to the muggle, that reeked of liquor.

Luna was about to check his pupils, when the man turned to the side and vomited violently. She used that opportunity to pull out a small device, that wasn’t familiar to Rowan, from her pocket and pressed it to her ear.

“I have to take care of it,” she said to Rowan, the device still pressed to her ear by her shoulder. “Can you get my car out of the way?” she threw her keys at him and went back to the barely conscious and very drunk driver.

Rowan somehow managed to move her car to the side of the road and waited, while Luna kept tending to the man. He knew it would’ve taken a fraction of the time if she only used magic, but since he’s a muggle, her hands were tied. He always knew she had patience, but he still found it impressive.

She helped the man into the backseat of his car, entered the driver’s seat and headed back toward the hospital.

Almost half an hour later, an owl appeared in the sky and just before it landed on the road, it changed form into Luna. She gave Rowan a frustrated look when she got inside the car, obviously in an even worst mood than before. She started the engine and let out a deep sigh before she went back to driving.

They drove in silence until they got out of the city and into the highway, when Luna finally said- “This drunken fucker, I hope he’ll choke on his own damn vomit.” Rowan remained silence while she kept ranting. “Can you believe that arsehole? Getting behind the wheel in his state. Almost as if he wanted to die or he was stupid enough to think that Jesus would drive for him.”

Rowan started to doze off and before he noticed, they already arrived at her house. Luna woke him up and they both slowly headed toward the small cottage. Rowan was too tired to comment on her new house, and after she quickly made the bed for him in the guest room, he collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

Luna went up the stairs, trying her best not to wake Mark up, and got into her bedroom.

Finally, she can sleep.

Twenty minutes later, her alarm went off. She barely managed to get out of bed into the shower and put on clean clothes, before she opened the window and flew out in her owl form to her shift in the wizards' hospital.

She got back home around 7 p.m. and was surprised to discover Rowan was still there, casually taking to Mark, who was in the midst of preparing supper.

“What are you still doing here?” she said while she picked an apple and took a bite out of it. “I thought you’d be back at Hogwarts by now, isn’t it a school-night?”

Rowan gave her an irritated look. “I came to see you for a reason, remember?”

“I know, mate, but I have a shift at the muggles’ hospital in an hour and I can really use some sleep.”

“Come on, mum.” Said Mark. “He told me he was waiting almost two days to have a proper chat with you. Can’t you give him five minutes?”

“Thank you, Mark.” Said Rowan. “If only I had this kind of influence on her. She always takes my time for granted-“

“I’m too tired for this.” She said and threw the remains of the apple in the bin. “Give me half an hour, alright?” but she left the room immediately after, not letting him a chance to say anything.

“So you’re staying for supper, then.” Mark gestured at the pots on the cooker.

“Seems like it.” Rowan shrugged.

#future au #hphm #hogwarts mystery #after hogwarts #hphm headcanon #headcanon #luna silver #luna kateřina silver #rowan khanna #mark denton #my art #drawing

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nemo1230 · 4 years

Text

Promises worth a lifetime

"Richie, slow the fuck down, man, I can't breathe, jesus!" Eddie was panting and red in the face from being dragged by his arm by none other than Richie Tozier. Fucking hell.

Don't get him wrong, Eddie loves his boyfriend to death, and always will, but sometimes he can be real pain in the ass. Like right now, Richie arrived at Eddies house at four in the morning, banged on his window like a proper gentleman that he is, without so much as a word drove him somewhere in his rusty 1978 Ford Mustang II that smelled like cigarettes and air freshener that Eddie had desperately sprayed, using at least half of the bottle, gotten out, grabbed Eddies arm and started dragging him into the woods.

"Eddie, sweetheart, please, hold on a little longer, we don't have much time left!" Richie shouted infront of him, sounding a bit out of breath himself. His black curls were bouncing slightly with each step he took, and Eddie might have gotten a bit hypnotized by that if he didn't feel like his lungs were on fire.

"Late for what?? And where in the ever-lasting hell are we? Why in the name of god are we in the woods in four in the god damn morning? Are you trying to get us killed? Because I swear to god, if we die, I'll personally bring myself and you back to life just so I can kill you again, Tozier, and that's a promise!" He tried to sound threatening but the many short intakes of breath ruined it. He run his free hand trough his hair and felt that some sweat had already formed on his forehead. It was the very crack of dawn yet he didn't feel cold at all, despite the cool early morning air. He was only in his pajamas pants and one of Richies big t-shirts, this one saying "want some sax?" With a cartoonish drawing of a saxophone. It's so fucking stupid, since none of them even plays saxophone, but the t-shirt is big and soft and smells like Richie, okay.

Richie just briefly looked back at him, flashing him a toothy grin. "Babe, patience, you'll get it once we're there."

Eddie decided that this really was a losing fight, so he shut up, letting Richie lead him wherever that big dumbass had planned, instead focusing all his attention to the ground, since he had tripped at least 5 times already.

They half-jogged for some time before Richies voice rung trough the still silence of the morning. "We're here Eds!"

Eddie practically jumped, too deep in thought to pay any mind to their surroundings. "Where..." He trailed off, finally looking up and seeing where they were. Turns out Richie somehow had found a hill, that was surrounded by the woods, but leaving a small field in the front empty. In the distance, by the bottom of the hill, the whole city of Derry could be seen. It wasn't one of the most breathtaking views, since Derry was quite small, no big buildings, no flashy traffic, just a few lonely houses, cramped closely together. In a few windows a faint light could be seen, people getting ready for the day. But mostly what made Eddies breath get caught in his throat was the sunrise - a slight blur of pink and orange light, right by the horizon, and the morning mist that seemed to be wrapped round the whole city, giving a surreal undertone to all of it.

"Do you like it? I brought a blanket, we can sit down, if you want." Richie brought Eddie out of his short moment of being completely consumed of the scene that unraveled beneath and above them.

"Yeah, okay." he said, still feeling a bit dazed. Richie got out the blanket from his backpack, layed it out, and gestured for Eddie to sit down. "Your lair awaits you, sir." He said, doing a quite terrible british accent. But his smile was genuine, so Eddie only meant half of the shove that he directed at him, before sitting down, facing the sunrise.

Richie plopped down next to him, immediately lacing their fingers together. Eddie thought about how natural and easy now physical affection was to them; only a few months ago they were hesitant, all of their actions laced with uncertainty, how they were scared that even the smallest touch will break the whole thing in pieces. Now, however, they couldn't stop touching eachother, drawn to eachother, like magnets, never being able to be apart for too long. Maybe it was the fact that for so long they had repressed, hidden their want and need for eachother so much, that now that it's finally out and they know it's okay, the want and need has only intensified, leaving them never satisfied, always wanting more.

Eddie let his head fall onto Richies shoulder, deeply inhaling the scent that was so entirely his boyfriend. Richie rested his head on top of his, after kissing it tenderly.

Over them, the sunrise slowly bled into soft morning light, surrounding them in blushing shades of pink. Here, in each other's arms, they felt safe. In a way, it was a bit ironic, since technically the whole homophobic town was right in front of them, and here they were, two boys, openly showing affection, but it felt like the mist and first rays of sun were creating a safe haven for them, a bubble where only they and their love existed, no restrictions, a small, temporary salvation for the curse that was this god forsaken town.

"Richie?" Eddie whispered, not wanting to damage this still, quiet moment.

"Mm?" Came an illegible reply. He seemed to be deep in thought.

"Thank you. For bringing me here. Honestly, I needed that. Even though I am still a bit angry that you made me do this in four in the morning."

Richie squeezed their intertwined hands. "Anything for my Spaghetti!" He exclaimed, although being his usual annoying self, sounding genuinely happy that Eddie enjoyed this.

Eddie tried to fight off a smile while saying "Call me that again, and I'll push you off this hill."

Richie did a very over exaggerated gasp. "Eddie, my love! How could you say such things! My own lover!"

Eddie only snorted.

After a while, finally the coolness of the morning caught up to him and he shivered slightly.

Richie immediately felt it and lifted his head, looking at Eddie. "Oh shit, Eds, you cold?" He took both of Eddies hands and kneaded them with his, then shoved them right into the sleeves of his hoodie.

"Yeah, because someone decided it would be a good idea to sit on the ground at the very crack of dawn!" He grumbled, not really meaning it. He was glad that Richie took him here, but that didn't mean he couldn't complain a little.

"You love me." Came the replay, and then Richie proceeded to untangle their hands, remove his hoodie and throw it at Eddie.

Eddie caught it right on time, and schruched up his face in a frown. "How long ago did you last wash this?" he asked, while pulling it on.

Richie chuckled. "Dunno, maybe your mom washed it after one of my nightly visits to her."

"You're disgusting." Eddie stated, then pecked Richie on the lips. "Thank you. You sure you won't be cold?"

Richie smirked before replaying, "Nope, all I need is the burning love I have for your dear mother."

He rolled his eyes. His boyfriend is going to be the death of him. "Beep-beep, Richie. Jesus, how can a person be so fucking annoying."

"I do try my best, Eds."

Now Richie rested his head on Eddie's shoulder. Eddie exhaled, feeling content. Then he looked ahead, and finally saw the city more clearly, the fog had disappeared, taking with it the safe feeling that it had provided. It now put things in a perspective; the fact that they'll never be able to be together freely in this town, they will never be accepted, or even tolerated. It was like a punch in the gut, leaving Eddie out of breath. Suddenly he no longer could take this sudden overwhelming feeling so he blurted out, "Rich. Can you promise me something?"

Richie replied immediately. "Anything for you, babe."

"Promise me that we'll get out of here. That we'll leave this stupid fucking town and go as far away as we can. Please, can you promise me that?" He now felt tears stinging his eyes, vision getting a little blurry. He quickly tried to blink it away.

Richie then lifted his head from Eddies shoulder, taking his face in his hands. "Of course, Eds! We'll get out of here, all right! One day we'll start my car, pack our shit and leave. We'll go somewhere so far, that this shithole will feel like a bad dream, and nothing more. We can go to like LA or something. And we'll build a life together, just you and me, we'll get an apartment together, I could do comedy or something and you'll do something boring, yet something that's so you, that it will be fine, and we'll get a dog, or a cat, or both, who cares and we'll fucking be one of those disgusting couples that take pictures together all the time and our friends will tease us to death but we'll be so god damn happy that we won't care. Fuck, Eds, I'll marry the shit out of you, if they make it legal. I'll-"

But whatever else Richie wanted to promise him died on this tongue because Eddies was throwing himself at him, kissing him so fiercely that Richie almost fell back. They kissed and kissed, and kissed some more. Their kisses held promises worth a lifetime, they held so much love that they could barely handle it all.

They drew back, but still stayed close, foreheads tightly pressed together, panting in each others mouths.

Eddie took a breath and exhaled slowly. "Damn you, Tozier, and your never ending theatrics. I swear, I'll lose my mind one day because of you."

Richie laughed, but then slightly pulled back, to look into Eddie's eyes. "They're not theatrics though. I meant it all. I would marry you one day, if it would be possible."

Eddie couldn't stop the tears now escaping his eyes and he quickly looked away, to try to wipe them before quietly saying, "I would too. I'd marry the shit out of you too."

Richies eyes were glossy too now, yet he still reached forward and took his face in his hands, wiping away the rest of the tears. He had a tender smile on his face, a rare occurrence, since most of the time he preferred a smirk. He looked beautiful like this; all freckled cheeks, soft eyes, pink lips and wild hair.

"Damn, I've really hit the jackpot with you, haven't I, like what did I even do to deserve you," said Richie, while fixing his glasses.

"Yeah, whatever," Eddie snorted, while shoving him affectionately. "We should return soon. My mom will kill me if she finds that I'm not home."

The sun was already up, last shades of pink turning into light blue, the air already warming up a bit.

"Yeah," Richie agreed, but none them them made the move to leave. They were reluctant to leave this comfort that they've found in simply being with eachother.

They simply held eachother for some time, stretching out the time as long as possible.

At some point they did leave, hand in hand, until getting into the car and driving back. Richie drove Eddie home, and since it being so early, the streets were empty, so Eddie in lightning speed pecked Richie goodbye, got out of his car and sneaked back into his house.

One day they won't have to sneak around like that. One day they will be free, accepted, and loved.

One day.

#reddie #reddie au #reddie fic #eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it2017 #it chapter one #it movie #nemo writes

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

this isn't off any prompt list but hero/villian indruck where they have a meetcute and both desperately try to keep the other from finding out their alter ego as their relationship gets more and more serious while simultaneously trying to keep their rival away from their seemingly innocent love interest for fear of endangering them

Here you go!

“You win this round, Knight,” The Moth hovers, mechanical wings flapping and smile spreading across his face. The blood trickling down his nose doesn’t faze him in the slightest, “But I’m sure we’ll see each other quite soon.”

He flies off before Duck can grab him, leaving the hero standing, arms crossed (and cross in general), his quiet evening at home ruined by The Moth’s need cause trouble at the Governors Ball.

He’d just gotten to a good part in his book too.

------------------------

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry!”

Duck looks up as he’s wiping coffee from his lap to find a tall, gangly, angular stranger hurriedly tossing down his bag to help clean up the spill.

“I’m sorry, I get lost in my thoughts sometimes and oh, darn it all.” In his eagerness to help, the taller man splashes coffee onto this white tank top, giving him a belly splotch that matches the one on Ducks green t-shirt.

“It’s uh, no big deal, ain’t like I was in my Sunday best and, uh, that ain’t a library book.”

“Oh no your book.” The other man lifts the stained paperback, looks at it sadly, “At least let me buy you a replacement.” He’s holding the book to his chest now, clearly hopeful that Duck will let him make amends.

Between the red-brown eyes, the tousled, silver-dyed hair, and the earnest, odd smile, he has an air of disheveled charm that, at his age, Duck ought to be past finding adorable.

Instead, he smiles back, “Sure thing. Bookstore two blocks down oughta have copies, and a little cafe to boot. You let me buy you a replacement drink, I’ll let you buy me a new book. Deal?”

The other man nods, hands flapping, “Yes, that sounds wonderful.”

Duck grins, suddenly excited, before noticing he’s a bit sticky.

“Meet me there in an hour so we can both change?”

“It’s a date.”

--------------------------------------

It’s a date? Agh, of all the ways he could have phrased it, why did his blasted, traitorous mouth choose that one?

He stands awkwardly in one corner of the cafe, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pink and yellow cardigan. Was this too flamboyant? He doesn’t even know if the other man is gay. He supposes he could look into the futures to determine the answer to that, but doing so feels rude.

This is why he turned to supervillainy in the first place; he’s terrible with people.

He wishes he’d worn his glasses. They’re technically a tool of his trade, but they make him feel safe.

“Uh, howdy.”

He glances up, finds the man from before looking at him. Now that he’s not racked with panic trying to clean up a spill, he has a chance to take in just how much his type the man is. Short, but bear like (”a teddy bear” his mind supplies, unhelpfully), with green eyes and charming, unhurried vibe to him. His drawl does remind him of a certain hero who’s always in his way, but he won’t hold that against him.

“Buy you a coffee?”

“Yes, please. Ah, um, I guess I should introduce myself; I’m Indrid.”

“Duck” he holds out his hand and Indrid takes it, enjoys the warmth and strength in his grip, “Nice to meet you.”

--------------------------------------

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Duck tightens Beacon around The Moth, who tears at the blade with his retractable claws. Duck learned about those the hard way, when the villain extended them during one of their first meetings. The slash broke the skin, something rare for Duck on account of his durability.

“And you have got to come up with some more creative lines, hero.” The Moth snarls, “you have used that one twice before now. Which is also how many times you have forgotten about this.” The villain throws himself sideways and down with enough force to yank Duck to his knees and loosen his grip. As his sword clatters to the ground, red powder fills his eyes.

“Gah, jesus, not that shit again.” His eyes sting, and as he pats the ground for Beacon he hears the scrape of metal moving away from him. Beacons hilt disappears into the mist, dragged slowly back by The Moth’s foot.

Duck looks up at him through watering eyes, trying not to breath in the dust.

“Well, you got me at your mercy. You gonna start gloatin about your evil plans or some shit?”

A light, sharp laugh, “Why would I waste my time in such a way? Oh no, I shall be making off with my prize. And making sure you don’t follow me.”

He raises his foot, and Ducks vision whites out on one side as he crumples.

He should be more worried about the villain getting away with the schematics for the ApCorps latest government security features.

Mostly, he’s worried he’ll have a black eye tomorrow.

------------------------

“Hel-oh goodness, Duck, your eye.” Indrid opens the door a half second before Duck knocks, then quickly cups his cheeks to take a closer look.

“Looks worse than it is, sugar, don’t worry. And, uh, surprise.” He produces a small bouquet of Irises from he behind his back. Indrid beams, taking them with squeak of delight.

“They’re lovely, but what’s the occasion?” He’s smiling almost like he knows, almost like he just wants to hear him say it.

“Know, uh, know I said I wanted to take things slow, but I realized we been datin a month I ain’t given you anythin.”

“You bought me coffee that first time. And we have each bought dinner for the other multiple times.” Indrid takes his hand, drawing him inside.

“I know but, well, kinda wanted to do somethin a little more special.”

“Any time with you is special.”

Duck snorts, “Cornball.”

Indrid kisses, “I learned from the best.”

-------------------------------------

“What can I say, I learned from the best.” Indrid grins at The Knight, who is currently hanging upside down in an elegantly simple snare.

“I got the idea from that unpleasant sword of yours. Keep your enemy tied up nice and tight to keep them out of your OW, ow, alright I should have seen that coming.” His glasses are now cracked from the Knight headbutting him.

“I’m impressed you could manage that upside down.”

“Drop these fuckin chains off me and I’ll show you somethin real impressive.”

Indrid tilts his head, “Tempting, but I have a pressing engagement tomorrow morning. Not to mention I need to get this,” he pats the painting he just lifted from the house of a man with a gold toilet, “somewhere safe. Until we meet again.” He offers a mocking salute, and takes flight.

--------------------------------------------

“Again?” Indrid offers, pressed against warm, sweat-tinged expanse of Duck’s chest, his heart beating in time with the rapid rise and fall of Ducks breathing.

“Nope. Not that the body and mind ain’t willin, but the mind and body also got work tomorrow. Damn that felt good.” He usually tops, but with Indrid he’s found it more variable; some nights, like tonight, the other man fucks him into the bed, or over the nearest table, or however far they get before Duck can’t stand waiting anymore. Other nights, Indrid gets on all fours so Duck can fuck him with the strap, drops to his knees before they make it past the entryway, tugging at Duck’s belt buckle with little whimpers.

“Mmmm, it was magnificent my love.” Indrid goes stone still in his arms as that last syllable flutters in the air.

Duck brushes strands of pale hair from his forehead, “I love you too, ‘Drid.”

His boyfriend flops down in relief, “oh thank goodness that’s the way it went.”

“As if I could feel any other way about you.”

Indrid mutters something that might be “cornball” into his chest, yawns and nestles closer with whisper of “love my teddy bear.”

“Love you too, sugar.”

Shit.

He’s in love with Indrid.

Bad things happen to superhero love interests. Very bad things. He can’t bear losing him, but no one beside the other members of the Pine Gaurd know his secret identity. He’s not ready to tell him yet. Soon, but not yet.

Indrid rolls sleepily onto his side and Duck goes with him, turning into the little spoon in his embrace. God, what if an enemy decides to kidnap him, hurt him, just to get to Duck?

Then again, no villain has singled him out, save for one.

Which he’ll need to deal with that one as soon as he can.

-------------------------

“Give up while you still can, Moth!”

“Not a chance.” Indrid hisses back, clutching the gash on his arm from the sword. What has gotten into the Knight today? Usually he only fights Indrid the amount needed to stop whatever crime he’s busy committing.

Today he’s trying to destroy him.

He’s been training, that much is clear, he has new moves that Indrid finds difficult to anticipate in a fight, and a fire in his eyes that heightens Indrid’s guard.

As he flits out of reach of yet another strike, his goal of thievery long forgotten in favor of not getting chopped in half, he tries to determine the source of the change. What would make him fight harder?

Duck. He’d burn this city to the ground, tear every hero in it to pieces, if Duck were in danger.

He reaches the edge of the building, but before stepping off to safety he turns.

“You win tonight, Knight. But do give that new lover of yours my regards.”

--------------------------------------------

“Hey, Indrid?”

“Yes?” His boyfriend looks up from his sketches.

“I was wonderin if, uh, if you’d like to go to a fancier place than normal? Barclay got me an in at La Lune, thought we could go on Friday. There’s, uh, there’s somethin I wanna talk about.”

“Is is a marriage proposal or breaking up with me?”

“What? No!”

Indrid chuckles, “I am teasing. Mostly.” He bounces his eyebrows and Duck rolls his eyes in response.

“Thought afterwards, might be nice to go out to the park and stargaze, tell you what I need to in private.”

“That sounds lovely, my love.”

------------------------------

The stars are aligning in Indrid’s favor this week.

Yesterday, when the Knight tried to corner him on his way out of his lair, he took the gamble of getting close, earning him the reward of landing a deep slash on The Knight’s cheek. One he won’t be able to heal by tonight. Whether he’s in his hero get-up or his civilian clothes, Indrid will be able to spot him.

And tonight, he has it on good authority that the Knight will be appearing in this block of the city. The same block on which sits La Lune. Indrid can go to dinner with his boyfriend right after removing the biggest threat to said boyfriend.

He’s perched on the roof of the restaurant, steering clear of the large skylight. His glasses scan the streets, the windows all around him.

But this is taking longer than anticipated. He hasn’t looked too far into the futures for the night, since his growing romantic side wants whatever Duck tells him to be a true surprise.

He pulls out his phone, swipes to his conversation with Duck. Beneath the photo of a Scarlet Tanager Duck sent him from his work at the ranger station he types, running behind, will be there shortly after 7.

He receives back, NP, see you soon sugar with a kissy face.

The minutes tick by, the spring sun setting inch by inch behind the downtown skyline. At 7:05, he peeks through the skylight, spots Duck. He can’t see his face all the way in the mood lighting of the restaurant, but he knows his gait, his profile.

At 7:30 there is still no sign of his nemesis. He’s been scanning and staring and searching, looking at his phone only once after it buzzes many times. He has four missed calls and five texts

Duck: ETA? Damn, this place is even fancier than I thought.

Duck: Everything okay? If you’re close, I can order us some appetizers so you don’t got to wait to eat.

Duck: Can’t wait to see you.

Duck: Are you still coming? Are you okay?

Duck: Sugar?

That last one comes as he’s reading the others. He peers down through the skylight, sees Duck stare at his phone for a ten count, gnawing his lip. Then he looks up at the sky, eyes shut, as if weighing a decision.

Indrid’s heart plummets.

There’s a gash on Duck’s cheek.

A gash he put there.

Every coincidence, every strange incident he’d pushed to side, lost in the happiness of their courtship, floods his mind.

Suddenly, he knows what Duck was going to tell him.

With shaking fingers, he types,

So sorry, my battery died at the worst of all times, I borrowed a charger from a good samaritan. I’m nearly there.

It takes him two and a half minutes to descend the building and change into his evening wear that he stashed nearby.

At three minutes, he’s walking through the doors, Duck jumping up and hugging him before he even makes the table.

“Sorry for, uh, textin so much, I guess I got a bit nervous. Y’know how shit can get here; can be walkin home and suddenly a supervillain is wreckin shit and you’re collateral.”

“I understand.” He takes his seat, Duck relaxing into the chair opposite him, “in fact, my love, I understand a great deal.”

Indrid reaches into his pocket, producing a pair of red glasses. He slips them on, knowing the other diners will think nothing of it.

“I look familiar, don’t I?”

Duck stares so long, moving so little, that Indrid fears he sent him into some kind of shock.

“Get out. Now.” Duck’s tone is level, his eyes glinting with threat.

“Duck, please, I, I want to explain-”

“Out. I ain’t gonna tangle with you tonight, but I don’t wanna see you ever again.”

Wordlessly, Indrid removes the glasses, and walks into the night.

---------------------------------------------

Indrid is out of ideas.

For the first week after his confession, he searched the futures religiously for any sign that Duck would come after him, would reveal his apartment to the other heroes.

It never came.

He hasn’t stolen anything in two months.

He sent a single apology letter to Duck, doing his best to explain the situation. Watched the futures narrow down to a single one; Duck reading it, then tearing it up.

He even sent anonymous notes to the Pine Guard, altering them to several oncoming disasters or the kind of supervillainy that has a body count.

Wounded pride, a loss of purpose, a wave of self-loathing, and a dozen other complexly unpleasant emotions could form the center of his world.

But it all comes down to one simple feeling: he misses Duck. Misses his smile, his sense of humor, his strange laugh, the safety he felt by his side, and endless list of things stripped from his life by his own actions.

Which is why it has come to this.

He sets up the camera, and starts recording.

------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Duck, I think you should see this.”

Duck plods into the main control room, where Ned is fiddling with the video feed while Aubrey waves him to sit by her.

“I swear to fuck if it’s that police chief tryin to recruit us again-”

“Nah, Aubrey and I finally got through to him.” Mama tosses out from the corner where she’s busily whittling a wooden duck.

The screen flickers blue, and then Duck feels the opposing pulls of revulsion and longing as Indrid’s face appears. His glasses are off, but he’s otherwise in his full villain get-up.

“Hello Duck, and, ah, I assume the rest of the Pine Guard. It is fine with me if you all listen in, but this message is ultimately for him.”

Barclay reaches over Ned to hit pause, “Duck?”

“Y’all can stay.”

The video resumes.

“I have two messages. The first is an apology; not necessarily for the things I have stolen, but for any genuine harm I caused other people, yourselves included. And I apologize once again, and as many more times as you require, Duck, for not telling you the truth sooner. In my defense, there is no easy way to admit to the man you love that you are a supervillain. All the same, I ought to have been brave enough to try, for your sake.”

Indrid sits up and Duck leans forward.

“My second message is that I am retiring from supervillainy. I could say something about a change of view on the world in general, but the truth is that villainy is less interesting without an equal to rival and banter with me. And, well, I am sure I can find other ways to fill my days. Especially if the man I care for is by my side. I should be clear that my retirement is not contingent on you reaching out to me again, Duck. Merely that it is something you may wish to know. Ah, I suppose that is all. This is the Moth, signing off for the last time. I’m sorry again, Duck. I love you.”

“Think it’s a bluff?” Aubrey asks as the screen goes dark.

“No, as one who has mastered the art of insincerity, I do not believe so.” Ned responds, switching on the lights.

Duck, for his part, says nothing.

---------------------------------------------------

Indrid rolls off the bed at the knock, rubbing his eyes as he trudges to the door, too tired to look at the futures.

“How can I…”

The sight of Duck Newton on his doorstep elicits so many emotions that he short circuits.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“So, retiring huh?”

“Yes.” He fights the urge to chew his nails.

“Guess that means you’re free to talk right now?”

“Indeed.” He steps back, allowing Duck to step in and shut the door.

“Great, Because we got a lot to talk about. But, uh, first.”

He cups Indrids cheeks, kissing him so lovingly that the former villain melts against him, gripping the front of his ranger jacket the way a falling man grasps at a cliff.

“I missed you so much.” He whispers, and before he has time to hate the crack in his voice, Duck is kissing him again, guiding him slowly and surely to the couch, murmuring in between kisses.

“Missed you too, so much, goddamn, couldn’t stop thinkin about you, love you so much ‘Drid, wanna make things right, we’re gonna make ‘em right, I promise.”

Indrid glances at the futures, sees that in all of them they do, in fact, end up having a long, serious conversation, one that ends in even softer kisses and Duck curled around him in his bed.

But there’s still a few more minutes for him to savor being here, safe and secure, in the arms of his hero.

#prompt fills #superhero au #indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #duck x indrid

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