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nayziiz · 4 days

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Dressing Room | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (you/her/she)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

She had been stressing about the outfit from the moment she laid eyes on it in the store. It wasn't just any outfit; it was her armour, her first line of defence in the battlefield of first impressions. Today was no ordinary day; it was the day of her most crucial job interview yet. As she stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room, scrutinising every detail, her mind raced with thoughts of the looming consequences of failure.

The stakes were high. Failure meant more than just a missed opportunity; it meant facing the grim reality of having to pack her bags and move back home. The mere thought sent shivers down her spine. Moving back home would feel like admitting defeat, like surrendering to the expectations and doubts of her parents.

Her parents never understood her passion for art, always questioning why she didn't pursue a more "practical" career path like medicine or law. But she couldn't deny her calling, couldn't ignore the fire that burned within her to create, to express herself through her art. Yet, with each rejection letter and failed interview, their voices grew louder, their doubts echoing in her mind.

Her heart raced as she realised the gravity of the situation. It was a last-minute interview, sprung upon her with little warning or time to prepare. As she frantically rummaged through her closet, her hands grazed over worn-out shirts and faded jeans, none of which felt suitable for the occasion.

Her friend, Carla, ever the optimist, had tried to reassure her, insisting that she had plenty of great options. But to her, it felt like every garment she owned had suddenly lost its appeal, leaving her feeling utterly unprepared and vulnerable.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of all the hours she had poured into preparing for this moment, the countless nights spent honing her skills and perfecting her portfolio. She couldn't let it all go to waste now.

As she stepped out of the dressing room, her heart pounded with nervous anticipation. She had meticulously chosen her outfit—a black skirt that reached below her knees, paired with a dark green cropped blouse that accentuated her slender frame. Yet, as she emerged into the bustling store, her eyes scanned the crowd in search of her friend, only to find empty space where her reassuring presence should have been.

A pang of anxiety surged through her as she realised she was on her own, left to navigate this pivotal moment without the comfort of her friend's guidance. She hesitated for a moment, feeling exposed and vulnerable under the gaze of strangers.

As Charles walked by, his attention was suddenly arrested by her presence. There she stood, amidst the sea of shoppers, a striking figure that seemed to transcend the ordinary. His gaze lingered on her, drawn irresistibly to the effortless elegance with which she carried herself.

In that moment, she seemed almost ethereal, like a muse summoned from the depths of his imagination. Her allure was undeniable, a magnetic pull that left him momentarily breathless.

As he glanced at her, a flicker of recognition ignited within him. It wasn't just her physical beauty that struck a chord; it was the familiarity of her presence, a sense of déjà vu that whispered of shared moments through the lens of social media.

With a sudden surge of realisation, he recalled the countless hours he had spent scrolling through her Instagram art profile, marvelling at the brilliance of her creations. Each painting had captured his imagination, drawing him into a world of colour and emotion that he had never experienced before.

Her talent had left an indelible mark on him, sparking a sense of awe and admiration that transcended the digital divide. And now, here she was, standing before him in the flesh, her artistry radiating from every pore.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he contemplated the serendipity of their encounter. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would come face to face with the artist whose work had captivated his heart.

“The green looks lovely on you,” he commented, his voice carrying a gentle sincerity as he casually approached the dressing room area, feigning interest in trying on something himself.

His words were offered with a genuine warmth, a subtle acknowledgment of her choice in attire and an admiration for how it complemented her complexion. Though it was a simple remark, it carried a weight of appreciation, a recognition of her beauty that went beyond the surface.

As he glanced in her direction, he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with gratitude, a soft blush dusting her cheeks at the unexpected compliment. It was a fleeting moment, yet one that seemed to linger in the air, charged with a quiet intensity.

“Thank you. I'm actually struggling to find something to wear,” she sighed, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration as she confided in him.

Her words carried a vulnerability that resonated with him, prompting him to pause and offer her a sympathetic smile. He could sense the weight of her uncertainty, the pressure of wanting to make a good impression weighing heavily on her shoulders.

“I know the feeling,” he replied with a reassuring nod, his tone gentle and understanding. “Sometimes, it's like nothing in the store quite matches what we have in mind, right?”

He offered her a moment of solidarity, a shared understanding born from his own experiences of sifting through racks of clothes in search of the perfect ensemble. In that moment, they were united by a common struggle, bonded by the shared quest for sartorial satisfaction.

But beneath the surface, there was also a flicker of admiration for her honesty, for her willingness to let down her guard and share her concerns with a stranger. It was a small gesture, yet one that spoke volumes about her character—a testament to her authenticity and openness.

“Special occasion?” He wondered aloud, his curiosity piqued by her choice of attire.

“A job interview at a local art museum,” she answered, a slight blush gracing her cheeks as she revealed the reason behind her carefully selected outfit.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for her as she spoke. The notion of interviewing for a position at an art museum seemed to perfectly align with her elegant demeanour and artistic sensibility.

“Wow, that sounds like a fantastic opportunity,” he remarked, genuine enthusiasm colouring his tone.

As she smiled in response to his encouragement, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride, knowing that he had played a small part in bolstering her confidence for the interview ahead.

“If only I could dress the part, it would help,” she chuckled half-heartedly, a hint of resignation underlying her words. Charles nodded in understanding, his mind already racing with ideas.

“I could help? I don't know much about fashion, but I have an interest in art. No reason why the two shouldn't mesh,” he suggested, a glimmer of excitement dancing in his eyes.

“I've never thought of it like that. Please, I would appreciate it,” she agreed, a grateful smile lighting up her features.

“Wonderful. I'm Charles, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending his hand in a gesture of friendship.

“I'm y/n,” she responded, returning the handshake with a warm smile.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Let me grab some stuff and then you can change into what you like,” Charles suggested, his eagerness evident as he disappeared into the store once again.

As she nodded in agreement, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within her. Here was someone who not only understood her passion for art but was also willing to lend a helping hand in a realm where she felt less confident.

After a few minutes, Charles returned, his arms laden with an assortment of clothing—dresses in vibrant hues, colourful blouses, bright pants, jackets adorned with eye-catching patterns, and more. Each piece seemed to radiate with its own unique personality, a reflection of Charles's eclectic taste and artistic sensibility.

“Here we go,” Charles exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he laid out the garments before her. “Feel free to try on anything that catches your eye. And don't worry about being adventurous—sometimes, the boldest choices can make the strongest statements.”

Grateful for his encouragement, she surveyed the array of options before her, her heart fluttering with anticipation. With Charles's guidance and support, she felt emboldened to explore new avenues of style and self-expression, eager to see where this collaboration would take her.

As she disappeared behind the velvet curtain to try on the flowy blouse and loose-fit black pants, Charles settled into a nearby chair, pulling out his phone to occupy himself while he waited.

“What museum did you say it was?” He asked, his curiosity piqued as he glanced up from his phone.

“Villa Polomo,” came her response from behind the curtain, her voice slightly muffled but still audible.

Charles nodded thoughtfully, his mind racing with thoughts of the renowned museum. Villa Polomo was not just any museum—it was a bastion of culture and creativity, a place where artists and art enthusiasts alike came together to celebrate the beauty of human expression.

And now, here she was, on the brink of potentially joining the ranks of those who had left their mark on Villa Polomo's storied halls. The thought filled Charles with a sense of pride, knowing that he had played a small part in helping her prepare for this momentous occasion.

With a sense of determination, Charles quickly composed a message to the head curator of Villa Polomo, a longtime acquaintance with whom he had forged a strong rapport over the years.

“Hey, it's Charles. Hope you're doing well. I wanted to tell you about a talented artist named y/n who's interviewing for a position at the museum. Her work is truly exceptional, and I thought she'd be a fantastic addition to your team. Keep an eye out for her application—you won't be disappointed.”

As he hit send, Charles couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. He knew that y/n had the talent and the drive to succeed on her own merit, but he also wanted to do everything in his power to ensure that her art found its rightful place within the hallowed halls of Villa Polomo.

And as he waited for a response from the head curator, Charles couldn't shake the feeling that he was on the cusp of witnessing something truly special—an artist's journey from humble beginnings to the pinnacle of success, with Villa Polomo serving as the ultimate canvas for her boundless creativity.

As Carla returned to the dressing room area, her steps faltered slightly upon seeing Charles seated nearby. However, any hesitation melted away as y/n's voice floated from behind the curtain.

“I quite like this blouse, Charles,” y/n exclaimed, her tone filled with enthusiasm. “Maybe I need to get a different colour pants to match the blouse.”

Carla's lips curved into a smile as she listened to their exchange, her presence adding a touch of camaraderie to the moment. A few seconds later, y/n emerged from behind the curtain, and the sight before them was nothing short of breathtaking. The flowy blouse draped elegantly over her frame, its vibrant hue perfectly complementing her complexion. Paired with the loose-fit black pants, she looked like a vision of effortless beauty—a dream brought to life.

Carla's eyes widened in admiration as she took in y/n's transformed appearance.

“Wow, you look amazing,” she exclaimed, genuine awe colouring her voice.Charles couldn't help but nod in agreement, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Absolutely stunning,” he chimed in, his words infused with genuine admiration.

“Where were you?” y/n inquired as Carla returned to their midst.

“I had to take a call, but it seems you were in capable hands. I'm Carla,” she explained, her tone warm and friendly. Charles nodded in acknowledgment, extending his hand to shake Carla's.

“Charles, and it's only been a pleasure helping out,” he replied with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the genuine enjoyment he had found in assisting y/n with her outfit selection.

Carla returned the smile, a sense of gratitude evident in her expression.

As Charles excused himself and disappeared into the store floor, Carla's observant gaze lingered on y/n, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“He was cute!” Carla observed with a knowing grin. “Did you get his number?”

Y/n's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she shook her head adamantly.

“No!” She argued, though a part of her couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that Charles's presence had stirred within her.

Unbeknownst to her, Charles was already plotting his next move, determined to see her again, especially at Villa Polomo in Monaco. With a sense of purpose driving him forward, he set his plan into motion, knowing that their paths were destined to cross once more.

And as y/n and Carla continued their conversation, unaware of the role fate had yet to play in their lives, Charles remained steadfast in his resolve, eager to seize the opportunity to reconnect with y/n and perhaps, pave the way for a future filled with endless possibilities.

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idolatrybarbie · 3 months

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main masterlist | pmamc masterlist

summary: For PMAMC '24. Blackjack has the best odds of winning in any casino game. All you have to do is beat the dealer. Still, the notion doesn’t comfort Maxwell Lord. He likes to be certain. He likes to win.

rating & word count: explicit - 18+ only, minors & blank blogs get blocked! | 4.9k

content tags: takes place in the 80s, fem!OC with no physical descriptions, gambling (pls don't), alcohol and references to it, descriptions of fake gore and blood, reader smokes, references to domestic violence and abuse, smut - pegging, anal fingering, come eating, praise.

tags & notes: @amanitacowboy | I had to watch several videos on how blackjack works for this. Still don't get it.

The noise of the room bubbles up around him, the sound of slots and smell of money threatening to slosh over like a spilled drink. The colourful trill of fruit machines announcing another loser can’t penetrate Max’s focus like it was designed to. His eyes are glued to the velvet green table, watching the vested woman with a crooked smile deal out another round of cards.

Blackjack has the best odds of winning in any casino game. All you have to do is beat the dealer. Still, the notion doesn’t comfort Maxwell Lord. He likes to be certain. He likes to win.

The dealer lays out a new hand with deft fingers. A three and a queen; six and an ace; the Queen and Jack of Spades; another ace and another three. Cancel, cancel, two high cards, another cancel. He adjusts the count in his head. Minus two.

With the hand played, the woman at the end of the table with wire-framed glasses surrenders. Half of her bet returns to the pot, the other half scooped up by the dealer. The two other men at the table double down. Max bets only a few chips, swiping a hand through the front strands of his sandy brown hair.

The cards sit at minus two against the players, in favour of the dealer. As she doles out a new crop of cards, he keeps counting. A five; a ten; the Queen of Clubs; a four. The round ends at minus three.

He’s keeping track, visualizing the numbers bright and shiny at the forefront of his mind. Max counts the hits and stands as the new deck is laid out, the running count increasing to twelve over the next couple games. He bets five hundred dollars in the next game, immediately receiving an ace and the King of Spades. At this three-to-two table, he’s just won 750 dollars.

The dealer is asking if he wants to continue playing, carrying his winnings over into the next round. Max’s focus has left the table and the small mountain of chips he can call his own. His eyes are drawn to the stage at the back of the long casino hall, smoke polluting the air around the draped black curtains before they pull away.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a proud voice booms over the sound system. “Please put your hands together for…the amazing Killian Loftus!”

A platform parts within the floor of the stage, a man slowly rising from beneath on a silver plate of metal. He sports a finely pressed suit, the tails swaying as he walks a few steps away from his spot, accepting the applause he’s given. As he’s smiling at the crowd gathered near the stage, a woman struts across the shiny floor to stand next to him.

Her tights are sheer black, covering the smooth landscape of her legs and thighs up to her crotch. From there, they disappear under a silky black bunny suit that cuts high at her hips, a fanciful bow tie collar around her neck. In place of rabbit ears sits a small top hat. She waves at the audience, waggling each finger. As this woman scans over the sectioned sea of people, Maxwell swears they make eye contact from across the room.

The dealer at the blackjack table asks him if he’d like to rejoin once more. He glances back only for a moment, shaking his head with a brisk no in her direction. Max haphazardly shuffles his chips into his clear plastic rack, making sure to count every one. When he’s organized himself, he leaves the cushioned leather seat at the gambling table to join the crowd close to the stage. A seat in the back suits him just fine, the parting of heads in front of him leaving a perfect view to the magician and his beautiful assistant.

The great Killian Loftus’ first bout of magic involves slight of hand tricks performed on a murky glass orb. He shuffles it in his palm as onlookers ooh and ahh. When he seemingly extracts another, smaller glass ball from the original one and regards the audience with a look of feigned surprise, Max can’t help himself as he rolls his eyes. Observing the stage, he can see that Loftus’ assistant feels a bit of the same. She sits perched on a black stool staring at her fingernails, forgotten in the act.

It’s another ten minutes of card tricks and optical illusions before Killian announces, “And now…for my greatest trick! I will make my dazzling Bunny here disappear.”

Bunny. Can’t be her real name, but Max likes the sound of it for now. He imagines, for a brief moment, gritting out that name as she bounces on his cock. The thought has him stiffening in his slacks already.

Bunny stands from her stool, walking behind the shadowy black curtain. When she reappears, she’s wheeling a long purple coffin onto the stage. On top of the box is a saw. Bunny hands it to Loftus, who holds it up for the audience to see. At first, Max can’t tell if it’s real or fake. When Killian drags his pointer finger along one of its rigid teeth, he winces, finger coming away bloody. Definitely real.

He sucks at his finger, the blood disappearing as Bunny gets into the gaudy casket. She looks at the people in the crowd once more, the stage lights highlighting a kilowatt smile. Laying back in the box, Bunny disappears as Loftus secures a sparkling lid over top of her. Max knows that by now, his assistant will have slipped through the fake bottom of the box, crouched at the bottom of the curtained cart that the coffin traveled in on.

Loftus asks, “Now, you’re in there for certain Bunny?”

The audience can only hear muffled speech from inside the box.

“How ‘bout you just knock for us, sweetheart?” the magician asks. The pure condescension in his tone makes Max’s blood boil in the slightest. Even if it’s an act, where does a guy like that get off on acting so…lordly.

It’s not his job to save her, Max knows this. He is simply here to watch. And watch he does.

A knock is heard from inside the box, confirming to the audience that Bunny is still with us. That’s when Killian takes the saw, setting it right in the middle of the coffin. He begins to cut into the wood, sweat beading at his retreating hairline between the exertion and the stage lights.

“Folks, you are about to watch me tear this sweet girl apart,” he says. Max doesn’t miss the innuendo, huffing under his breath. “And then! I will put her right back together.”

The saw moves further and further through the coffin, eventually reaching whereabouts Bunny’s body would lay. As Loftus continues to saw, a tearing sound accompanies the grating noise of splitting wood. Killian’s brow pinches in confusion, his hand slowing but not stopping. As he cuts deeper, red liquid trickles down the front side of the cedar box. That trickle grows to a stream, crimson pouring from the coffin as the rip of something softer grows louder.

Members of the crowd begin to stand, cries and shouts for Loftus to stop erupting from their seats.

“If you’ll all just give me a moment here…” he says with a grunt. Finally, he cuts through the last inch of the coffin. When he lays the saw down on the floor of the stage, it smeared in what can only be blood. It slides out of the box easily, pooling by the magician’s spiffy dress shoes. “Everyone calm down,” Killian says. “There’s nothing to worry about. See?”

As he asks the question, he pulls apart the two halves of the coffin. Inside, what looks to be the corpse of Bunny has been split into two parts. Her guts are spilled between the two halves like webbing, slopping onto the floor as Killian Loftus pulls her large intestine taut. A woman in the crowd screams, the rest of them tittering nervously. A man in the front row hurls onto the wine-stained carpet. Max’s own stomach roils at the sight. He covers his mouth and looks away.

That’s when he spots her. The assistant—Bunny, or whatever her real name is. Distinctly not sawed in half, waltzing away in her towering heels; she slips between poker tables, dodging players left and right. Wherever she’s going, she is in a hurry. Max can’t help himself, standing to follow. He gets one last look at the stage. Two security guards have a hold on each of Loftus’ arms, holding him still as a third whips out metal cuffs from his utility belt. For all they know, he’s just committed live murder.

The air outside the casino is cool against Maxwell’s skin. He catches his breath, taking in lungfuls at a time as he glances around the sidewalk bathed in neon lights. The hustle and bustle of foot traffic nudges him back closer to the doors, chips still safe against his ribs. The smell of tobacco invades his nose. Max looks to his left, and there she is. Still in her bunny suit, the mysterious woman pulls a cigarette from her lips to look at him. She flashes him her smile again, blindingly beautiful.

“Out here by yourself, handsome?” she asks, taking another drag.

“I was looking for you,” Max admits.

“Weren’t too amused by my little stunt, huh?”

“I thought it was brilliant.”

“Brilliant?” the woman asks, eyebrows raising with the word. She seems to take a moment to mull that over—mull him over, before she says, “Well thanks.”

“Of course,” Max returns.

Then she says, “You know, you’re pretty brilliant yourself. I saw you at the blackjack table.”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” he smiles.

“Your lips twitch every time the there’s a cancel. A draw,” the magician’s assistant says. “It’s your tell.”

Maxwell didn’t think he had one. He’s surprised it’s taken this long for anyone to notice. If she has, that means she’s been watching him a lot longer than their shared look at the start of the show.

“And what’s yours?” he asks, taking a bold step closer. By now, the cigarette has burned down to the filter. Bunny lets it fall to the cement, crushing it under the toe box of her heel.

“What if I said I don’t have one?” she asks, voice low and sultry. She smells like cigarettes and spearmint.

“Everyone has a tell,” Maxwell says.

Her lips are so close to his now. He can see the microscopic specks of glitter in her gloss as she speaks, barely a whisper.

“I guess you’ll just have to find mine.”

Right when Max moves in for a kiss, she pulls away.

“But first,” Bunny says. “I need a favour.”

“Anything,” he says instantly. A dog on a leash.

She pulls a scrap of paper from her bra, taking a hold of Max’s hand and folding it into his palm. He relishes in its warmth, cock stirring once again as he thinks about what this paper has touched. He wants to hold her, caress every part of her beautiful body.

“You need to get into this room. It’s reserved for Loftus. Under the bed, there’s a briefcase. Bring it to me.”

“Where can I find you?” he asks.

She simply says, “You’ll find me, baby.”

The magician’s assistant walks away with a sway in her hips. Max is mesmerized by her ass in that outfit, watching ‘til she disappears around the corner. He almost goes after her, stopping himself. He schools his desperation into determination. Retrieve a briefcase? Max can surely manage that. He looks at the address scribbled down on the paper. Just south of here, a little ways up Las Vegas Boulevard.

First, he returns to the casino to cash out his chips. 750 dollars richer, he exits the building once again to join the people on the street. Walking down the long strip, he keeps an eye out for the place he’s looking for. The hotels and casinos tower over him and everyone else, overwhelming in their grand stature. Lights of all colours bathe different sections of his vision; everything highlighted, all of it begging for his attention and the opening of his wallet.

Max reaches the address on the piece of paper, staring up at the MGM Grand. Across the street from replica Lady Liberty, this has to be the largest building in mass size that he’s ever seen. The glass structure seems to glow, alternating black and wizard green stripes lining its entirety. He doesn’t take too long to gawk, ducking his head and moving toward the entrance.

Through the abstract front doors, marble flooring slides beneath his feet. The lobby is dotted with hundreds of pot lights. In the middle of everything is a branded flower garden. From this distance, Max can’t tell if the plants are real or fake. All he can focus on is the life-sized golden lion statue sitting among them on a pedestal. A spotlight filters down on the creature from the divoted, sparkling ceiling.

It is purely overwhelming. All of it makes his eyes hurt. Maxwell simultaneously wants it all, and wishes everything would disappear.

The slip of paper has details for the penthouse on the thirtieth floor. Maxwell beelines for the elevator, getting on alone. The doors creep closed in front of him as he scans over the buttons panel. Twenty-nine glowing circles wait for him. Number thirty has a hole next to it, the light behind it dead. Running a thumb over it, he can tell that it’s fit for a key. The elevator doesn’t move, the doors opening again moments later. Max walks back into the lobby, eyes darting around as he forms a plan.

He’s a smart man. Quick-thinking; had to be growing up, having only mere moments to make decisions before his father burst into one of his unpredictable rages. His heart would pound, lungs floating without air in his chest as he got to work with his rational brain. The part of him that pointed out the best hiding spots under the bed or in his mom’s closet, or when was a good time to ditch the house for a few hours entirely.

That same part of his mind starts working again now, taking in his surroundings instead of fighting them, positing the best solution. Max takes a deep breath, reorganizing himself. He can do this. He starts walking to the lobby desk, leaning into a bit of Mick Jagger swagger. When he reaches the counter, he spreads his hands over the edge of it, the ring on his finger catching the light.

“Sweetheart,” Max begins, imitating Killian Loftus’ grating persona. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I can’t seem to find my key.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Can I have your name and room number?” the woman behind the desk asks. Her hair is tightly crimped, blonde ends singed with heat damage. Max gives her a smirk, informing her of the booking under Loftus’ name for the uppermost suite.

“Alright sir,” she says, looking through pages in a guest book. “I’ll just need to see some identification and we will be right on our way.”

Shit. These goddamn hotels are moving towards hokey technology, getting rid of guestbooks and good old metal keys. Maxwell weathered the thin skin of his lip, pivoting his strategy. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he pulled out a few bills from his gambling winnings.

“How much to overlook that little requirement?” Max asks.

“Four hundred dollars,” the woman says immediately.

Max blinks at her, turning away for only a moment. All of this for one woman? One woman whom he barely knows, who’s really promised him nothing. But her beautiful face, that tantalizing smile… Fuck.

He turns back to the hotel attendant, skimming through the crisp cotton bills with his thumb to count out four hundred dollars. Max hands it to her over the counter. She discreetly tucks it into the breast pocket of her blazer, padded shoulders straightening up with pride. The attendant then hands Max a key, the metal ring dangling off her finger. He takes it from her, walking away as he unruffles his feathers.

Max returns to the elevator. The doors are about to close when a pale hand jams itself between them. They slip open again, a blonde couple glommed onto each other at the mouth joining him. Maxwell moves over in the compartment, giving them as much space as possible. The ride up feels impossibly long, the sounds of their lips pressing together making it entirely agonizing. They finally get off at the twenty-fifth floor, tumbling down the left side of the hallway to their room.

When he puts the key into the hole next to the thirtieth floor, the button lights up for him. Max presses it, loosening his tie a little as he ascends to the penthouse. The doors open with a slight ding! Setting foot into the luxury suite, he takes his time to look around. The latest and greatest model appliances deck out the kitchenette, the couch as plush as chinchilla fur. He takes his shoes and socks off, digging his toes into the soft shag carpet. Max could get used to this.

He remembers what he truly came here for like a jolt of electricity, scrambling to slide his Farragamo loafers back on, socks in hand. The briefcase. Right. Under the bed, she’d said.

Max quits milling about, looking for the bedroom among so many parlors and rooms. He finally finds it at the very back of the penthouse. He only has a moment to graze a palm over the fine linen sheets before he drops to his knees. Underneath the bed frame lies exactly what he’s looking for: the aforementioned briefcase.

Sliding it out from under the bed, Max stays kneeling on the carpet as he stares at it. He could open it, take a peek inside. Just to look, he tells himself. Anything could be in there. Money, diamonds, jewels…the thought gets him hard again. So does the promise of seeing her. He could give in to greed…or give in to her.

Really, it’s an easy choice to make.

You wait for the mystery man alone at the casino’s bar. If he has any sense, he’ll find you here. Or, you figure, he could take off with the briefcase. He’s probably opened it by now, already seen its tempting contents. You’d say that you are pissed, but you can’t really blame him.

It’s been almost an hour; a lot longer than you’d expect for a simple smash and grab. There wasn’t even the instruction to smash. No need for breaking added to this entering. No, the beautiful card counter with the light brown hair is long gone. Go figure.

“Bartender,” you signal him over, two fingers in the air. When the man shuffles to you with a towel over his shoulder, you say, “I’ll take another martini. Extra dirty this time.”

“You know, they say that dogs look like their owners,” you hear someone speak behind you. Turning slightly, you see the man from earlier—with the luscious locks and fleeting eyes, this time carrying a briefcase. The briefcase. He’s come back to you after all.

“So?” you ask. “Are you calling me a dog?”

“No, no, no,” he rushes out, immediately sitting down beside you. You like that. He’s quick to worry, easy to rile up. He seems to want you happy; to keep you pleased. “I was going to ask if the lady is like her drink.” He waits until the bartender sets the skinny glass in front of you. “Extra dirty.”

“Well, you’ve brought me what I asked for,” you say. “So that all depends on what you want…” You’re only now realizing that you don’t know this man’s name.

“Maxwell,” he offers you a hand. “Maxwell Lord.” You shake it carefully. His palms are a little sweaty. He sets the briefcase down on the bar with his other hand, eyes never leaving you.

“That’s a nice name. Maxwell Lord,” you say, testing it out on your tongue. He smiles as you say it.

“I assume your true name isn’t Bunny,” he says.

“You’ll be lucky enough to find out.” You take a sip of your drink, watching him watch you. “Y’know, I thought that you would stiff me.”

“You? Never,” Maxwell says. “I know it would haunt me for all of my days.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re too beautiful.”

That’s it. You need to see this man naked as soon as possible.

“You’re sweet,” you coo. Downing the rest of your drink in one go, you plop a few bills down on the sticky bar to cover your tab. Taking the briefcase by the handle, you offer him your other hand. “Shall we?”

“Absolutely, yes,” Maxwell nods.

You drag him through the casino, this time to a separate lobby attaching two buildings. Of course there’s a casino, bar, and hotel. One stop shopping for the tax break-wealthy drunkard with too much cash to blow. “Trickle down” your ass.

Your room on the fifth floor isn’t nearly as fancy as Killian’s at the Grand, but it’s cozy with a nice bed. That’s all the two of you need. Max doesn’t even try to take control—another thing you like. He’s a puppet and you’ve gathered his strings, pushing him back so he falls to the springy mattress.

“Okay, honey,” you say, kicking your heels off. You climb into his lap on the bed, settling over a distinct bulge in his pants. “You’re going to tell me what you want. I’ll make sure you feel real good. Okay?”

“Mhm,” Max nods. Your lips slide along his neck, leaving lipstick marks in your wake. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers.

You pause, drawing yourself back to look in his eyes. He’s dead serious, face lax as he gazes upon you like you’re holding up the world. “You want me to fuck you?” you repeat.

“Please.” The word comes out all breathy, almost a whine drawn from Maxwell’s throat. How can you refuse him?

“Alright, baby.”

You pinch his cheek teasingly, getting off of him in search of your luggage. In the meantime, you tell him to strip. Behind you, Max starts to unbutton his shirt, discarding his baby blue suit jacket. You listen to him get undressed as you pull your suitcase up from underneath the hotel bed.

Unzipping the bag, you dig past your satiny outfits to the hidden compartment beneath your underwear. Finding what you need, you place the toy, harness, and small bottle of lubricant on the bed’s comforter. You can hear Maxwell pause as he shimmies out of his pants. When you see him again, his eyes are transfixed on the spread you have laid out.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask.

He returns to shedding his pants, then his calf-high cotton socks.

When he says, “Nothing. Nothing at all,” you cock your head, blinking at him.

“You can tell me,” you say, getting closer. Your hands brush over his bare shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Looks like a lot,” he says, eyeing the toy again.

“You can take it,” you say. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

He’s right; it is a lot. Eight solid inches of bendy silicone, all for him. You direct him onto the bed again, laying with his spine against the mattress. Max watches as you attach the thick toy to the leather harness with a metal O-ring. Then, you slip it on like a pair of panties, adjusting the buckles at your sides. Once you settle over him, you take his cock in your hand. Slow beginning strokes have Maxwell sighing against you as you kiss him.

“You were so good, Maxwell. Did a great job,” you say, sitting up.

“Y-you think so?” he asks, voice uneven.

“I know so.”

Spit runs past your lips down to where you hold him. It slides over the swollen tip of his length, down between the skin of your fingers. You ease him into slightly faster strokes, watching the way his eyes flutter with every movement. You wish you’d packed a camera for this outing to capture it permanently.

When you pull your hand away, Maxwell groans. Laid flat on the bed, you get a hold on one of his thighs, lifting it to his chest.

“Hand me that bottle, baby.”

Fumbling with the linens for a moment, Max gets a grip on the lube and hands it to you. The cap opens easily, a quick snap that brings Maxwell’s focus to your still-wet hand. He watches as a dollop of the clear gel falls to the middle of your palm. You fold your hand, spreading lubricant across the pads of your middle and pointer fingers.

You lean down towards him, tongue flat as you lick across his lips. Max moves his arms around you, hugging your body close to capture you in a sweet kiss. Tongue moving against yours, you guide your hand to his bottom half.

“You ready, honey?” you ask him.

He nods, kissing you again. You meet his tight rim with light touches, feeling Maxwell contract at the contact. As you ease a finger in slowly, he breaks away from your lips. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck, he practically purrs against your skin. Pushing deeper, his breath catches.

“That’s it, Maxwell. Feels good, doesn’t it?” you ask.

“Yes, it’s—oh god.”

“My clever boy… So good at doing what I tell you to, huh?”

“I want you to be—be happy. Content. So beautiful, I can’t…” Max rambles on.

You shush him gently, stroking the side of his face with your free hand. “Don’t worry honey. I know.”

Adding a second finger earns you a deep moan from the man beneath you. He’s being pulled in all directions, pleasure tearing him apart. His broad shoulders relax further into the bed, golden skin glowing with natural light. He is a truly alluring man. That’s why he caught your eye in the first place: someone so radiant amid the dim atmosphere of a Vegas casino.

Killian was a terrible business partner, cutting you only thirty percent of the money from any given con job you worked together. He was another seedy character in a town chock full of them. Eyeing Maxwell at that blackjack table, you saw an opportunity for something new. Someone new. Spiffy and sparkling, your very own Ken doll fresh from the packaging.

“You think you’re ready, gorgeous?” you ask, tone sweet as sugar.

“Always ready,” Maxwell answers.

His chest heaves with each pull of air into his lungs, anticipation keeping you both on edge. He watches you slather the dildo in a thick coating of lube, sliding it against Max’s balls. Then you notch the toy at the crux of his ass, head pressed against his hole. Inching slowly forward, you can’t choose between focusing on his pretty face or his ass swallowing the length of you.

“How does that feel?”

“Fantastic,” Maxwell sighs.

He takes half at first, speared open on the dildo as he measures his breathing. Max is flushed from his forehead to his cock, perspiration littering his body as precum drips from his swollen tip. You take him in hand again, stroking at soft skin in tandem with your thrusts. Small, stuttering gasps and groans fill the air as Maxwell holds you close, feeling almost every inch.

“You like my cock, honey?” you ask. “You’re so special. So, so special. A sweet boy that that takes my cock all nice…takes what I give him.”

You slow your movements to more languid pulses, barely leaving him as you rock forward.

“Fuck,” Max moans. “Please.”

“Oh, he likes that, huh?” You watch as Max’s hole swallows the rest of your lubed cock easily, hips flush with the backs of his thighs. “Greedy little boy. All eager to get fucked by me. I think you’d do anything for it.”

“Anything,” he agrees.

“Maybe next time, I’ll get you to beg.” Max moans again, holding your hips to press you deeper. “You want to kneel for me, honey? Get down on your knees all pretty for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Maxwell whispers in a chant.

“Think my pretty boy could get off just like that? On his knees, rubbing against the edge of my heel?”

“Please,” he begs you.

Your lips quirk into a smile as you watch him writhe beneath you. One word turns to a string of pleading, though you aren’t quite sure that Maxwell knows what he’s asking for. You speed up your thrusts and your hand. His eyes slip closed as he focuses on every sensation you’re giving him, hedging closer to that high just out of reach.

Leaning down over him, you catch him in a messy kiss. “Come on, baby. You can do it. Come for me.”

Maxwell heeds your words, tensing before his whole body relaxes at once. He paints the insides of his thighs and your belly with a groan, twitching with each aftershock. Dragging a finger through the mess on your skin, you collect some of his spend and push it past his lips, feeding it to him. Max suckles at your finger, tasting himself. He smiles when you take your hand back, dragging at his bottom lip.

You pull out of him slowly, discarding the harness and strap to lay down with him. Maxwell turns to face you, nose pressed to your collarbone. Idly petting his hair has him kissing your skin. Basking in the moment, you let something like bliss wash over you.

“So what do you say?” you ask eventually. “Partners?”

“Partners,” Maxwell agrees.

And that’s that.

#maxwell lord #ww84 #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #max lord x reader #wonder woman 1984 #pmamc 2024 #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #fic: stiff #except for queue

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gay-cryptidz · 3 months

Text

The Comfort Between Your Scars

Chapter 4

Joel heroically saves his new friend

TW: implied/referenced sexual harassment, bit of violence

It only took until Thursday for Joel to find himself walking through the front doors of his new favourite bar again. He had planned to visit again on Saturday but he was itching to get out of the house so he might as well.

It was surprisingly full for a weekday but a lot more quiet than previously. The only bartender behind the counter was a woman with spiky, short hair, chatting with a group of girls. He thought he recognised her from last time, but he wasn't sure. When she noticed him approaching, she gave him a quick nod.

"What can I get ya?"

"I'll have a beer, thanks"

His eyes scanned all the faces in the bar again. No sign of him.

He nodded his thanks when the bartender handed him his glass.

"Uh, do you know if Desmond's working today?"

"Should be around here somewhere, yeah. Probably gonna suddenly appear out of nowhere any minute now"

"Aight"

She went back to cleaning up, absentmindedly looking around the room. After waiting another minute or two, Joel got up, deciding to use the opportunity to explore the bar a little bit. The building was quite old with a lot of small subsections and corners that formed odd little areas, which really worked in it's favour, providing some sense of privacy to some of the sitting areas and making the place visually interesting.

As he was on his way back to the counter, realising he had completely abandoned his drink there, he vaguely noted two voices sounding from the direction of the restrooms. He couldn't make out what they were saying but it sounded like they were arguing. They quickly died back down but he thought he could make out a loud thump and a clattering sound and figured maybe he should go wash his hands. Just to make sure everything was okay. Before he reached the door, the shouting returned. Only one voice this time.

He managed to dodge the door just in time as a man a little taller than him burst through it, barely paying Joel any mind as he almost ran into him, muttering curses under his breath and covering his bloodied nose with a shaky hand. Before Joel's brain even caught on, the man disappeared behind a corner. What the fuck?

He hurriedly stepped through the door, scanning for whomever the other voice belonged to, and was greeted by a familiar face.

"Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here!", Desmond said casually with a lopsided grin as he was stepping out of one of the stalls.

"Are you okay? What happened?! Should I go get someone?"

Desmond stumbled a little, leaning on the thin wooden frame of the stalls for a moment, before regaining his balance.

"Just had to kick out a rude customer, 's all", he shrugged. "I'm fine"

His voice sounded a little sore.

Joel could only stand there and watch with a deadpan stare as Desmond walked over to the mirrors.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! I JUST got this shirt!"

He examined a blood splatter on his white button-up angrily. Joel panicked briefly before realising it probably wasn't his.

"Hey, my shirt's dirty, can I have yours?", Desmond grinned at him, undoing some of the top buttons to pull the shirt over his head, revealing the turtleneck he wore underneath. Joel realised now that it was sleeveless and cropped. He tried not to get distracted by the way it perfectly hugged his ribcage, defining his figure. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the tattoos scattered across his surprisingly defined arms while Desmond held his no doubt bruised knuckles under the cold water and examined his face.

From where he was standing, he could make out a few different animals and plants, some seemingly random shapes and, the biggest one he could see, what looked to be an animal skull with various flowers and other plants growing from within it on Desmond's left forearm. They all consisted of neat, crisp, black lines, no different colours and only the occasional grey shading. All except for one, a small green dinosaur that looked like a young child's drawing. That one was Joel's favourite.

Desmond had the bruised part of his face turned away from him but he could see it in the mirror. It wasn't too bad but his cheek was puffy and red and there was a small cut on his lip.

"You should probably cool that"

Desmond hummed affirmatively.

"Not ideal considering looking pretty is half my job"

He frowned into the mirror for a second before putting on his faux-lighthearted grin again and turning back towards Joel.

"Well I don't know about you but I could use a drink", he said while walking past him and out the door, the bloodied shirt now draped over his shoulder. Joel followed silently.

The moment she noticed Desmond returning, the other bartender seemed to scan both of them intensely.

"Jesus fucking Christ, I lose track of you for one second and next thing you know there's a guy with a broken nose stomping out, threatening to sue! What happened, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Alex"

Desmond rolled his eyes but smiled at her fondly. Joel, unsure of what to do and not wanting to intrude on their conversation, sat down at the far end of the counter wordlessly. Desmond managed to squeeze past Alex, who was giving him a meaningful glare, assessing the back of the counter, before raising a half-empty bottle of Havana Club as a silent offer to Joel and setting down two glasses between them. A small pout flashed over his face when Alex took the bottle from him.

He tried to fight her off as she grabbed his chin, turning his face to assess the damage. After looking him up and down one more time, she glanced at Joel before gently grabbing Desmond's arm to pull him out of hearing range. Desmond stopped in place after only a step or two and pulled his arm out of her hand.

"You should go home"

Desmond snorted sarcastically.

"Fine, at least sit down in the break room for a while. I'll cover for you, it's not that busy anyway"

"Jesus, Alex, I'm not a child! I said I'm fine!"

Alex gave him a look that Joel wasn't sure how to interpret and pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. Desmond crossed his arms and averted his gaze.

"N- Desmond. Just tell me what happened so I know what to say if someone goes around telling everybody that the bartender attacked him for no reason?"

Desmond shrugged, still not looking at her.

"Just a drunk customer getting a little handsy. Met him last week, guess he was pissed I didn't have time for him today. Backed me into a corner, I gave him one warning and then beat the shit out of him. I've dealt with worse, you know that"

"See, normal people would call that sexual harassment"

"I'd call it a Thursday", he mumbled and turned around with a raise of his eyebrows, going back to preparing drinks for him and Joel. It seemed like she just gave up until she pretended to reach for something next to him from behind.

It happened so fast that Joel wasn't entirely sure what happened but for the first time, he saw a flash of fear on Desmond's face before he rapidly whipped around and grabbed her wrist. They looked at each other wordlessly for a few seconds until he loosened his grip, steadying his breath.

"You really need to stop doing that just to prove a point"

"I will as soon as you stop being too stubborn for your own good"

Desmond mumbled something, grabbing a bottle and walking towards the door with a sign that said 'STAFF ONLY'.

"Desmond"

He put the bottle back behind the bar with an annoyed grumble before opening the door and, making sure he was out of Alex's sight, looking back to Joel, signalling for him to follow. Wouldn't he get in trouble for that? Joel looked at Alex, who had already started putting away glasses and cleaning up.

"Go, I'm not telling anyone", she sighed and waved him toward the still open door. Desmond smiled when he got up and walked over to him.

<< Beginning | < Previous | Next >

#tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller #cryptidz fic #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller fanfiction #slow burn

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alrtjeon · 2 years

Text

Assistance: Part 1

Genre: unkown in this one

Word Count: 1,066

Song playing: Stignma (V)

It had been a week since you won the contest on Weverse, you’d gotten invited to hang out with 1 group at HYBE and you’d chosen to hang out with the worldwide sensation group BTS you were highly nervous constantly taking things out of your bag and putting things back in because “it doesn’t look amazing in your head” you were about to cancel the trip when your sister ran into your room “DUDE IT’S ALL OVER WEVERSE HOW PRETTY AND LUCKY YOU ARE!”

you got up from you sunken position on the side of your bed with your opened suitcase right in front of you “what?!?!, how do they have pictures of me??” you questioned in a panic, although you…yourself were an army you knew how protective you all were over the boys and the last thing you wanted was for Army to deem you unworthy of meeting your idols, before you could get any more thoughts to discourage you from going on your trip your sister intruded “I may or may not have uploaded some pictures to prove to everyone that i was your sister” she said with a gleeful smile she then continued “and you can’t get mad at me either because i just wanted them to see how beautiful you were” she said in a pitiful whine. “Ok ok I guess, I mean it’s not like im going there to do anything more than finally hang out with my favs,” you say finally perking up with excitement.

TUESDAY 2:15 pm, Seoul, South Korea

“I can’t believe im here,” you say to your sister on the other side of the facetime call which seems to not even be paying attention to you in distress, I mean it was in less than half an hour from now you’d be meeting the boys! You’d decided to wear a pair of sage green slacks, a white cropped wife-beater top (the one Emma chamberlain wears all the time lol), black platform converse paired with a black Prada bucket hat your hair had been in a 90’s blowout look to accentuate the frame of your face and to finish off you wore your favorite perfume Daisy love to give you that sweet clean fresh scent you loved.

“Okay, you look good, and instead of making TikToks capitalize on what’s happening, you are on the phone with me!?!” your sister questions

“Not everything goes on the internet nit wit” you snark back

“Well, what did you want me to say???” she asks in an almost mocking tone you couldn’t tell because you'd turn your attention to the clock on the bedside of your hotel bed

“Yeah yeah, whatever I’ve got to go they’ll be here to pick me up any minute now!” you say in a rush grabbing your plain beige tote bag and black leather jacket in case it got chilly

3:37 pm, HYBE ENTERTAINMENT

“Okay miss you’re just going to walk straight down this hall, get your bags checked and fingerprint scanned, and then walk through those gold doors!” the secretary said as she smiled and pointed you in the direction

“Thank you” you bowed out of respect and headed on your way, the hall seemed the be getting longer as you walked down, to your left was the bag check area and to the right, just a little down was the fingerprint and badge scan, after completing those two tasks you were left there standing in front of the door waiting to be buzzed in, your heart felt like it was pumping a thousand times faster than when you were in the hotel, your feet felt like they had swollen out of pure shock and your ears were hearing colors you’d never known just as you were about to take the deepest breath of your life the buzzer buzzed and the doors opened, you could have sworn your say lights and smoke as the door opened to 7 large men standing in line to greet you!

4:00 pm

“Hello we are BTS” all 7 greeted in their traditional band greeting, you couldn't even speak nor did you think about it, it wasn’t until the oldest handed you a bouquet of red roses to welcome you into their world “Please accept these and our friendship, we’d also like to thank you for being an army” Jin spoke and he put the flowers in your jelly state of an arm

“Uhhh yeah Ummm sure, yeah, of course why wou-” you cut yourself off overhearing Jimin and Taehyung woo and gush over your nervousness with Jimin even commenting on how cute you looked with your rose cheeks

“Come on to our practice room we’d love to show/ teach you some dances” j-hope spoke up

“And teach you how to make a beat” Suga joked to which you of course giggled along.

8:49 pm, HYBE CAFE

After the initial greeting and anxious nerves you’d gotten quite comfortable with the members after having dinner with them after your what seemed like training to become the 8th member, you’d even gotten comfortable enough to joke with the members

“You’re actually really funny” Jungkook commented with his hand on your head in a pat

“There’s a lot to me Mr. Jung” you said in a playful tone encrypted with sexual tension that only he could decode. Instead of acting upon it, he played it safe by asking for your phone so he could “see how many fan accounts you followed” to which you agreed but instead he added his number to your KakaoTalk under his secret account.

“So did you have fun,” Namjoon asks looking at you with a brow raised in curiosity

“FUN! I had the best time of my life!” you exaggerated of course with a playful tone, Jin, Suga, and J-hope all laughed at your fun demeanor and tone.

“We should keep her around,” Jin said in between a breath from his laugh that continued after Suga said a joke in continue of yours

“I agree,” Jungkook said looking at you and you only

“I think we should ask PD-nim,” Taehyung says in a serious voice to which all others agree with a nod of the head all you could do was laugh along with them as you thought it was just a meer joke but soon will you find out they were far from joking with you.

(A/N: I did not want this to be too long so let me know if you guys want a part two where things get smutty >:))

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amaraeshepard · 1 year

Text

Normandy Launch Party - Part two

Earth, Canada, Vancouver Alliance Military Command2183 AD

Kaidan POV

Just another hour. Need to hold out for another hour. Then I can go and fight off this headache.

That was what Kaidan was telling himself. The headache was sitting just behind his eyes threatening to bloom across the entirety of his frontal lobe. There was just too much here. People. People drinking. People talking. People watching him. People dancing. People talking to him.

“Come on lieutenant, you have to admit it.”

Kaidan turned his head towards the Normandy’s pilot. His name was Jeff, but he had insisted on being called Joker. It was a quirk, but not one that gave him any real feelings on the subject. At least it wasn’t a name that carried any hint of something he wouldn’t say in front of a superior officer. This post was an opportunity that he didn’t want to risk.

The Normandy was the most advanced ship in the fleet, and he had been handpicked to serve on her crew. It was an honor. He worked his ass off, and he knew he was a good marine. However, as a biotic he had to fight twice as hard and work even harder to get some officers to notice that he was more than the freak moniker he had heard whispered by some.

“Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” Kaidan smiled sheepishly and shrugged, “Sorry, Joker. Just had some things on my mind.”

“Things? Like why are we here? Well that’s simple. We are the new poster boys of the Alliance. The cream of the crop. Also… the food and drinks.” Joker smiled, having several of those drinks already poured into his system. “You should have another one or three. Lighten up a little.”

“Tomorrow we are set to leave and commence the shakedown run at 0800 hours. Careful how much you lighten up.”

Joker sighed, exasperated at how much of a party pooper his companion was.

Kaidan stopped the smile he normally would have revealed. He wasn’t as boring as he let on, he just had a strong sense of himself. He had seen and learned from his mistakes and those of others. The easy way was never the right way and always leave yourself a way out. That was the wisdom he had earned so far, and those lessons were paid for.

“You need to relax, Alenko.”

A small smirk slipped free, softening his features and encouraging Joker to order another drink for each of them.

“To the Normandy!” They both toasted, classes tinking before they drank.

“Alenko, Joker.” Anderson nodded as he passed by them and ordered a drink.

Kaidan watched the Captain for a moment, noting that he was tense. Something had happened. A quick scan of the crowd did not reveal any reason for it, but it did reveal something else. A very familiar face walked through the crowd arm in arm with a woman that-

Mar?

Surely not. She was Alliance now, sure, but why would she be here?

Both women moved through the crowd effortlessly, parting the crowd with ease. Chairwoman Kali Singh always had the ability to control a room. It was something that Kaidan had felt was a magic power even more mysterious than biotics. She could hold a room hostage with a look alone.

However, it wasn’t her that the eyes of the room were following this time. With her, Amara walked with a confidence that he had never seen fully at work and she was where the room's attention was focused. Her dress, if you could call it that fit her as tight as any body armor would but as a dress it felt different. Each curve and muscle was revealed yet hidden by the thin cream fabric. He could feel his mouth grow dry as his gaze shifted to what skin the dress revealed, a rich dark tan that proudly displayed Amara’s heritage. What he assumed was still long waist length hair, as he had never seen Amara with short hair, was pulled up in an elegant bun, though small tendrils had been left free or escaped to frame her face. Her personal taste of simple makeup was still there, she would accent her eyes but usually kept it minimum everywhere else.

She had told him once the eyes were the windows of the soul.

He believed her.

“Lt? Alenko? Kaidan?”

Jokers voice drew his attention back to the pilot and away from the girl he had known. He still had no idea why she was there, but for now, his attention was on his crewmate. Well, most of his attention.

Behind him he heard Anderson at the bar greeting someone with a warmer tone than he had ever heard come from him.

“Ah there you are. I was wondering when you would join us. Have some catching up to do.”

A soft chuckle replied to the older soldier, sending a rush through Kaidan’s blood. He knew that sound. He had heard it so many times growing up he could never, would never forget it. There was no doubt, it was her.

“Don’t tell me you were waiting for me, Sir.” Amara replied, a playful growl in her voice. She always had a velvet-like growl to her voice's texture, something he was sure she had inherited from her grandmother, but he had never noticed it till now. Not like this.

“Sir?”

“Anderson…then. Now what are we drinking?”

Joker had stopped talking to him and was watching the Captain and Amara with a strange curiosity. She was speaking so casually with him. How did they know each other? Perhaps through her grandmother? Either way, Kaidan stayed quiet and downed the latest drink that Joker had bought for him.

“Shots Commander. You owe me.” Anderson chuckled.

“How many do I owe you?” Amara mused as she picked up her first shot.

“More than one.”

With Anderson’s words, he and Amara drank to the Normandy.

Links : Part 1 Part 3

#amara shepard #kaidan alenko #f!shenko #kaimara #mass effect canon divergent #mass effect #mass effect oc #I kinda went on and on #love these dorks #Joker #Anderson

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sopxhiea · 4 years

Text

Moirai

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Y/N happens to be the niece of a powerful man and Alfie can’t help but want to see more of the young girl kept hidden behind doors.

Warnings: Age gap.

“Are you flirting with me?” ‘You finally noticed?’

The room is quiet.

One half of it is occupied by men wearing traditional hats while the others don’t wear one at all. Words have been said and now, it’s time for the last stroke. The guns wait quietly at the palms of the nervous men, it’s deal or death.

Then the chatter breaks out.

The men shake hands, fake smiles plastered on their grumpy faces as they get on with it. The room is lively now, opposite to the previously grim state it possessed. The windows are open as they pat each other on the back, relief washing over most.

There’s a middle aged guy in the middle, the one who seems to be the boss. He’s wearing no hat, just a simple suit and a tie to go with it. His rings tell who he is as some of his jewels glisten under the afternoon light.

All along, Alfie watches.

There’s flour on his shoe soles, it leaves the impression of dust on the floor here and there. His jewels are heavy, gold under the burning sun that manages to make its way through the open blinds. He smiles at the guy, the boss, as a sign of respect.

The deal is done.

The other men silently start to leave the room now that the deed is closed, the guns are hidden and the celebration calls. The bosses get to informal chatter while the room gets emptied, the men who were so close to killing one another are now headed to the closest pub.

The secretary whispers something to the boss’ ear.

He nods, saying something to the lady Alfie can’t quite catch in a foreign language. The secretary nods back and smiles, she soon disappears as some of the men start hovering around. The room is not entirely empty yet.

Then, you come in.

You’re holding a stack of papers in your left hand, the rings decorating your small fingers are similar to the ones on the boss’ hands. The sun rays illuminate your face in a gentle manner, your hair resembles the colour of fire while the light kisses the strands framing your face.

A couple words leave your mouth as Alfie watches.

You tell something to the boss, your small frame looks even smaller next to the men around but they all seem to get on with their business, it seems as though they recognise you.

And they recognise that you’re not to be fucked with.

The boss nods, a childish smile on his lips at the sight of you and you mirror back his expression. The boss’ eyes catch Alfie’s eyes on you, he hurries you back inside but you catch the jew’s eyes and the way they glisten in a room full of gangsters.

The boss makes his way towards Alfie, much like how they were standing a minute ago.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Solomons.” he says, his voice is low but loud enough for Alfie to hear. He nods.

“You as well, mate.”

They shake hands for the last time and Alfie is out.

------

An envelope arrives at the messy desk.

It stands out, from how clean and crisp it looks due the peculiar light blue color. Alfie doesn’t remember fucking about with the kids around so he gathers it’s a joke.

From who, he doesn’t know.

He proceeds to open the envelope, a white invitation greets him as his eyes scan the paper. It’s the man from last week, the gangster he made a deal with. He knows him to be stubborn but popular and the envelope inviting him to the party he’s throwing next week proves Alfie right.

He’s ready to dismiss the idea.

Then, he remembers.

He recalls the things he’s heard about a secret jewel of sorts this particular man has. It’s much more precious than a bag of balkan sapphires.

It’s you.

He’s sure of the things he’s heard. He knows you’re the niece, even though you look nothing like your uncle. You’re his secret, someone your uncle vowed to protect from the ill this city of London brings.

His fingers trace the ink on the paper, it’s handwritten. He’s too old to chase dreams, he thinks, his spontaneous nature is left back in his younger days. It would be interesting, he gathers but much too unlike him.

He then calls for Ollie to cancel any appointments for next Friday.

------

The tall halls are decorated with silk curtains that extend to the living room where the booze is kept. The corridors are full, not only with people but their chatter and the tiny glasses of alcohol in their hands. All he hears for a while is useless talk until he spots the boss.

He gathers joining the party will give him some recognition with the bourgeoisie, not that he needs it.

He greets the familiar man and indulges in useless informal talk about the weather and so on. A small comment made on the modern decoration and he’s off wandering around the halls.

He doesn’t quite know what he’s looking for.

It’s not you he came here for. He’s here on business, as Ollie’s managed to convince him to attend a social party for the first time in many moons. He sees familiar faces, faces he’s come close to shooting but he manages to give them a small greeting before wandering around again.

You’d been intriguing to say the least, the last push he needed to come to this bore of a party.

An hour later, Alfie finds himself next to some other familiar faces, ones he’s not keen on shooting any time soon. He jokes around and watches them wash down drinks, one by one as time passes.

He’s too busy talking shit to one of the guest’s faces to realise that you’re going around the place to say hi to people.

You don’t want to, that’s a given but as your uncle suggested, there’s things to be done when you’re the one throwing the party. You smile at each and every word that comes out of the strangers’ mouths as your uncle takes you around the place and shows you off unlike any other time.

Your hands play with the fabric of your airy dress. It pools down around your knees while your rings caress the light green material. A laugh comes out of your painted lips at one of the jokes the guest has made, your uncle is watching you closely right next to you, making sure you behave the way he asked you to.

You didn’t want any of this, you think, but it was handed to you anyway.

Your uncle’s hand meets your arm as he gently pulls you around the next table to introduce to his guests. He’s proud, you can tell but you just seem bored at this point. Nevertheless, you paint a happy expression on your face and look up to meet the next guest.

And you meet the eyes of his.

Even though your uncle would speak to differ, you weren’t as sheltered as he thought. You did things he wouldn’t approve of and danced in a way that would bring shame on the man.

But you seemed perfectly innocent to Alfie as you smiled.

He shook your hand, his large one engulfing yours but both were decorated with rings and jewels. Your uncle began speaking about the new deal Alfie and him had made but Alfie wasn’t even listening, he was way too intrigued by the creature in front of him.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Solomons.” you spoke once the conversation your uncle was having with himself was finished.

Alfie’s eyes glistened.

You remember him from that day in the office but not because you were scared. It was simply because you were interested.

“Pleasure’s all mine, luv.” he spoke, lowly but you’d heard his words unlike your uncle who was too busy dragging you around the place to meet everyone.

And you play the part of the innocent niece all too well next to the only man you call family.

-----

French paintings, a crowd in front of a golden statue as a young man talked about some posh aristocrat, gold on the walls, quiet chatter and the sound of a hushing voice.

Alfie didn’t know when this all happened.

It’s later in the night, the booze has been consumed along with large portions of food he would not touch. He’s spent the night with Ollie on his side, much like how he usually spends most work events. You’d come by once, asked him and the other guests if they were enjoying themselves and left not too long after.

He could see the annoyance behind your eyes.

He didn’t know it to be true but he felt it. You seemed bored with all the fancy decoration and useless chatter your uncle had insisted on. The names of the guests were long forgotten for you anyway.

Except his.

He didn’t fit here but you figured, you liked that about him.

Everyone invited to the party was wearing a fancy dress they weren’t keen on using again, expensive jewels dangled from their limbs as they made talk about the paintings around or just how lovely your dress was.

You’d just smiled.

You weren’t a big fan of parties like these but your uncle had asked you a favour and he was loved enough by you to put up with the useless evening. Besides, one of the guests turned out to be interesting.

He wasn’t pretentious, he hadn’t touched the food properly and spent his time talking shit around. He was having some fun, you could tell from the way he laughed at the posh society’s faces.

Alfie stood there next to the small crowd as the young lad kept talking about a painting he once saw in Vienna. He wasn’t interested but manners were something he was still getting used to when the time and place called for it.

Then your uncle spoke about you, your interest in art and even showed the guests a couple pieces that were done by you. There were a few audible gasps of admiration rising from the crowd as they took a good look at the large canvases wrapped with gold.

That’s when he saw you.

You were walking in the corridor next to where the gallery was, heels and the hem of your dress in your right hand while you shushed the big beast next to you, the dog seemed to be following you obediently even though he was practically your size.

Alfie left the gallery and the crowd and instead followed you.

He figured it was a better waste of his time.

You didn’t let him know that you knew he was following but instead walked outside to where the house opened up to the large crops around, green all over the place while you pulled your dear dog’s leash. Your dress swished around your knees while you walked barefoot on the concrete surface until the concrete was replaced by grass.

He followed you through the trees, a little bit further from where the house’s lights where.

That’s when you abruptly turned around.

“Why are you following me?” you asked, a devilish smirk on your lips while he came to the realisation that you knew he had been following you, no matter how quiet he’d tried to be.

“A fuckin’ ‘ello would be nice, luv.” he spoke, his eyes gave his surprised state away even though he tried to act collected and calm.

“I don’t care for that.” you spoke under your breath but he caught it, you could tell from the way his lips turned into a small smile.

“Name’s Solomons.” he spoke, eyes challenging as he spoke. He wasn’t sure if you remembered his first name after all the names that had been introduced to you this evening.

“I know who you are.” you said, letting the dog’s leash go as he started running around the big yards of grass. Alfie’s eyes watched the free creature for a minute before realising you were speaking under your breath. “Alfie.”

You nodded at your own words as you said his first name. You remembered.

“I’m a bit too old for ya’ to be addressin’ me on a first name basis, lass.” he said, walking right behind your form while you started to walk the trail you did to reach where the horse farm was. It was a big piece of land, after all.

“How old do you think I am?” you spoke, out of frustration since it seems like he was not taking you seriously, you looked younger than you were.

“Barely twenty.” he spoke and watched the lights flicker in your eyes.

He was very close to the correct answer.

“How old are you?” you spoke, trying to find out more about the only interesting person at the party.

“Thirty five.” he said, in a way that made you think that he didn’t want you to know he was almost twice your age.

You looked at him from head to toe then. Not in a way that made him uncomfortable but as a way of confirming that you understood the age difference between him and you.

“Your uncle, yeah, he’s in there ravin’ about your paintings and all.” he spoke, trying to get words out of you when he realised you weren’t very talkative. You spoke when the occasion called for it.

“Oh, is he? you spoke, staring right into the stranger’s blue orbs.

“Yeah, fuckin’ prasin’ you and some European school you went to.” he said, watching the way your eyes turned to him with a more suspicious glare.

“French.” you spoke, trying to find out what he was getting to. He knew you were foreign since your uncle liked to speak his mother tongue in meetings every now and then but a conversation was a conversation.

“You’re not from around here then?” he spoke, knowing you weren’t from England let alone London. He could tell from the way you spoke.

“I thought you already knew that.” you spoke, eyes gleaming with interest as you spoke. He was not the usual gentlemen who’d come over to the forest to seduce you, he had questions and he actually listened.

“I did, yeah.” his voice was clearer in the woods, it sounded more like what you imagined it would if he were to wake up next to you in the morning, although that was just a distant thought in your mind.

“Ya’ don’t look like you’re from around here either.” he said, sparking interest in you since he was talking about your looks. No one had said anything about you not looking like a local before.

“How’s that, Mr. Solomons?” you said, amusement dancing in your eyes whilst he drank your young form, you were much too pretty to be from around here. There was a spark to you that the ladies of London were envious of.

“You’re far too fuckin’ gorgeous to be from this shit hole.” he said, not really measuring his words since you didn’t seem to be doing that either. You chuckled out of surprise but then realised, he was telling the truth.

“Are you flirting with me?”

You asked, bewildered. Due to how powerful your uncle was, most men were intimidated and not only that, but they came to realise your quick wit and clever mouth were also something that came with the arrangement. They liked the idea of the forbidden fruit which was why there had been many that had asked for your hand before but you were far too independent for that/

‘You finally noticed?’

He said, he wasn’t scared of your uncle. He wasn’t scared of many things for that.

“I’m not much good when it comes to that.” you spoke, you didn’t have a lot of experience in flirting and all that. You would usually let the guy know you were interested, have a quick fuck or a fling and be over with it. No one stayed long around you anyway.

“Well, that seems fuckin’ perfect, eh?”

he spoke, making you turn back to face him while the mansion’s lights were still visible. You had been walking back the whole time and the path from which you left the mansion was clear now. You could see the concrete steps.

“What do you mean?” you spoke, eyes glossing over his.

“’m not much good either.” he said, watching the way your eyes lit up for a split second. He was amusing to say the least.

You chuckled then, your dog was long gone and running around the corps. He’d be back when he was hungry but you realised that it had been over an hour of you walking around the garden with this stranger. It didn’t feel like he was a stranger to be begin with but you managed to convince yourself to ignore the way his eyes would roam all over you every now and then.

Your bare feet met the concrete and you saw your uncle, talking to the guests about you again. A low sigh left your lips, one that Alfie recognised to be from frustration but you had to do what you had to do. You turned to Alfie then, knowing that this was nice while it lasted but your uncle was probably angry at you for leaving the party for so long.

It was time to say farewell.

“I’ll see you....when I see you.” you said, smiling at the end of the sentence since you knew you wouldn’t be seeing much of the charming man any time soon.

“I’ll be around, lass.” he said, not missing the way you looked at him from head to toe one last time. A gentle smile found your lips and you walked back to the mansion.

Alfie left not too long after that, finding the party boring without your presence.

It wasn’t until two days later, when your uncle was out on business, that one maid left a note on your drawer. It was in a light blue shade, similar to the one you’d chosen for the invite of the party.

You walked towards the drawer, seeing the hand written note inside the envelope but before you had the time to process, you read the words your kind stranger had left you.

It was an address in Camden, you figured it was for you to come around and have a chat. He seemed keen on doing that.

But where the address would lead you, you didn’t know.

-------

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog

a/n: Let me know what you thought of the chapter/if you want to be tagged!! <3 Since school started, i’m less active on here so please forgive the absence but i do have works lined up!! <3

558 notes · View notes

lovely-ateez · 3 years

Text

Favorite Place~

ꕥPosted: 3/8/21

ꕥGenre: College!au, Angst, Fluff

ꕥPairing: FemReader! x Emo!Hongjoong

ꕥWord Count: ~4.8k

ꕥWarnings: General angst (happy ending), Unknown man being creepy to reader, Characters insulting reader behind her back, Alcohol intake, Driving with a few sips of alcohol (please don’t drink and drive), Implied violence, Language, Oral (f recieving), Unprotected sex, Corruption kink, Language

ꕥA/N: Reader is a girly-girl bc we need more rep that isn’t hella negative and to actually be portrayed as smart and hardworking for once 😤 You👏can👏be👏both👏 ANyWay—thank you for bearing with me while I wrote this

I ran my hands along the open science textbook laying upon my desk, eyes scanning rapidly over the information. The pages were thin and flimsy, clearly showing the book’s age. If I wasn’t careful, the pages would rip with ease. Not that I had time to actually think about that.

In less than five minutes I, along with the twenty five other poor souls who took this class of their own volition, would be handed our last final for the class. A hundred and ten questions in an hour and thirty minutes.

The class was basically academic suicide and had I been told that, I would have stayed far, far away from the class. But no. No one bothered to run that by me.

A whiff of familiar cologne filled my nose and against my better judgement I looked up to find the class genius, Hongjoong Kim. It was bad enough that he was smart as a whip and never needed to study, but on top of it all he was a dangerous, handsome, irresistible bad boy.

He gave me a wink, a sly smile resting on his lips. I gave him the same reaction I always did: a blank face. There had been multiple times he had tried to rile me up, whether that be say something flirty or wink, or “accidentally” touch my shoulder, and I refused to give him the satisfaction of any reaction. I would keep a blank face, hoping that he would leave me alone.

I wasn’t immune to his charms. I felt butterflies in my stomach every time he looked at me just like any other girl he tried it on, but I didn’t want him to know that. The biggest reaction I had given him was an eyebrow quirk at most.

I could tell it bothered him. I knew he was frustrated that he couldn’t get me to blush or stutter my words, and that may have been part of why he kept up his antics. Probably the entire reason, knowing him. Had he not been a fuckboy, I might have fallen for him. Might have.

I returned my eyes to my book and heard his footsteps walk past me, headed to the very back of class. His usual spot.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen,” A loud clap could be heard from the front of the room, our professor signalling the start of class, “It is time for your final. I hope you all are well prepared. I ask that you remove anything from your desk aside from a pencil and I will begin to hand out the tests. You may leave as you finish, just make sure to hand me your tests before you leave. Good luck.”

Book already off my desk, I gripped my pencil, hoping six hours of studying was enough.

“Thank you.” I muttered to my professor as he placed the stack of papers on my desk.

Here goes nothing, I suppose.

I handed in my test with a smile, hoping that I’d pass. Taking a deep breath I stepped out of the classroom, seeing a familiar face. At the noise of my footsteps Hongjoong looked up from his phone with a devilish smile, eyes staring me down. I must’ve not noticed he turned in his test before mine, not that I was surprised. He always finished his test the quickest out of all of us.

“How’s it going, pretty-in-pink?”

Pink was my favorite color and and I wore pink clothes often, unfortunately it had earned me several unwanted nicknames, all coming from Hongjoong.

I barely bothered him a glace, “I have a name.”

“But your nicknames are so unique to you. Don’t you love them?”

“Can’t say I do.” I walked away, not interested in entertaining him any longer than I already had.

“Farewell, princess.” He fleeted me with a honey-like voice.

Suppressing an eye roll, I gripped the straps of my backpack, ecstatic to get away from him. The more time I spent away from him the better. The less time I was with him meant there was less of a chance for me to get attached to him. I refused to let that happen.

After I left the building I grabbed a coffee and walked to the library, bracing the cold weather. I only had one final left and I needed to make sure I studied enough. Just one last push before I was done for the semester. Taking the elevator up to the third floor, I saw a familiar face who smiled at me and I sat down at his table.

“Hey! How do you think you did on the final?” Lia asked me as I took my laptop out.

“Honestly I don’t know. I don’t want to say I passed because knowing my luck, if I do I’ll fail it. I knew the majority of the answers though, so there’s that.”

“That’s a positive.” She cocked her head, observing the way my eyes were glued to my laptop, “So what are you studying for now?”

“Criminal Psychology. I don’t take it until late tomorrow but I wanna get some studying in.”

“You’ve been studying for hours, you’ll be fine. Let’s just go shopping instead.”

My ears perked and I slowly raised my head, “Damn you. You know I’m not gonna turn you down.”

A wide smile formed on her face as she placed her hands behind her head, “What are friends for?”

“Oh don’t look so cocky.”

“Why not? I’m pretty sure I’ve won here. Now let’s get going.”

Lia stood up and slid on her backpack, a smile still plastered on her face. Just as I was placing my laptop in my own backpack I heard a string of male voices and a mention of my name.

I gave Lia a look and, curiosity taking over, I snuck closer to the direction of the voices to see a group of men at a table hid behind a large stack of bookshelves. There were four of them, not a one of them sitting properly in a chair. Two were sitting on top of the table, another with his legs propped on the table, the other sitting upon a backpack which itself was on a chair. I could only see two of their faces and didn’t recognize either.

“We’ve gotta invite the token good girl, right?” A tall man with dark hair smiled, leaning back on the table.

A man with distinct dimples, clad in all black scoffed, “Y/n? Like she’d go to a party anyway.”

“She might.” Hongjoong tiled his head, allowing me to see him, black earrings swaying as he looked at the man with dimples.

Oh. He’s there, too.

“She dresses like she still believes in the tooth fairy.” A man with a blonde ponytail scoffed, “You think she’s gonna come to a party with people like us?”

I grabbed Lia’s arm to prevent her from storming over. She was upset, I was too, but I wanted to keep listening. Still, I couldn’t deny the pang of hurt I felt as I looked down at my pink skirt and cropped top. Was it a crime to like the color pink?

And I thought I looked cute today...

“You should be the last person to judge someone over the way the dress, Yeosang. You never wear anything but black. If she likes it, then she likes it. Fuck you.” Hongjoong bit back.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t know why he defended me, maybe he was just defending fashion for fashion’s sake and it had nothing to do with me, but it was still nice of him.

Yeosang smiled, “Damn someone’s aggressive, huh? Someone might almost think you’ve got feelings for the girl.”

Hongjoong remained silent.

“Ooh is she still not reacting to your desperate attempts to woo her?”

Hongjoong quickly became defensive, “Listen, I’m not-”

“Okay we’re not getting into this. Just invite her, you never know what she’ll say.” The dark-haired man said to Hongjoong, “And invite her friend, too. She wouldn’t go alone.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point. I’ll talk to them next time I see them.”

I turned to face Lia, whispering in her ear, “Let’s go. Please.”

Her face told me that she would much rather confront them, but changed as my eyes began to water once more. She nodded and put an arm around me, leading me out of the library.

A tear fell down my cheek as we walked. I raised my hand to wipe my face when Lia did it for me. She pulled me into a tight hug, running her hands through my hair.

“Don’t you think for a second that you’re any less of amazing. Fuck them for not seeing it.”

As she spoke more tears began to fall and my breath hitched, “But-t they-”

“No. There’s no excuse for being shitty to you, especially when you haven’t done anything to wrong them.”

I nodded, trying my best to believe her and steady my breathing.

“What can I do for you? What can I do to help?”

Releasing Lia from my tight grip I stepped back and looked in her eyes, “Nothing. Let’s just go shopping.”

My friend nodded and slipped her hand into my own, something she would always do when I needed comfort. I squeezed her warm hand, following her footsteps as she led me to her car.

“So...you’re not gonna go to the party are you?”

“Yeah I don’t think so.”

She let out a hum in approval and nodded, opening the car door for me.

As much as I wanted to take my mind off of the boys’ words, I couldn’t. No amount of retail therapy seemed to help that. I knew Lia was doing her best to make me feel better and I felt a bit guilty for bringing down the mood. She scoffed when I told her, making eye contact and emphasizing that she simply wanted to make me feel better.

Sooner than I liked, we had to part. Lia had a class in thirty minutes and I had to help out in an on-campus activity. She gave me a tight hug and a small smile, bidding me adue.

I was the Vice President of our Activities Planning Board and as such was in charge of setting up an Academic Bowl for the competing students. Unfortunately, I was having trouble setting up the large tables and my small frame just made it harder. I was confident anyone around could see that I was struggling and I huffed, hoping no one would look my way. It didn’t help that I was outside in the middle of campus, where anyone just walking by could see me.

“Do you need any help?”

I turned to find Hongjoong with his dark backpack slung over his shoulder, a concerned look on his face. Had I not desperately needed help, I would have refused.

“Yeah I do. Hold this, will you?” I nodded at the opposite side of the table I was struggling to hold.

He appeared shocked that I accepted his offer, but I didn’t dwell on it and instead lifted the table. We worked in silence aside from a few words of instruction I gave him, and I was thankful for the lack of distraction. When we set up the last table I placed my hands on my hips, looking at the tables.

Hongjoong crossed his arms, “Why were you doing this alone?”

“No one else signed up to help for the Academic Bowl, so I did it myself.” He gave a confused look so I clarified my position.

“Of course you’re the Vice President.” Hongjoong muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I faced him, feeling slightly offended.

He shrugged, “I know you’re just involved in a lot. I’m not surprised.”

Ignoring his comment, I took the conversation another direction. “Why did you help me?”

“You needed help, princess.” He answered simply.

I nodded, ignoring the nickname. “Well...thanks.”

A moment of silence followed until Hongjoong broke it, “Hey listen, there’s a party this weekend I want you to go.”

“Why?” I cocked my head.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know anyone that will be there.”

“You know me.”

“That’s not exactly an incentive.”

He scoffed in mock offense, “Okay first of all, ouch. Second, what if I sweeten the deal?”

My eyebrows raised, lips forming a smile, “Oh yeah? What could that possibly be?”

He faltered for a moment, his voice lowering seemingly without intent, “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile. You’re beautiful.”

I turned from him, trying to will any semblance of a flustered expression off my face. “You were saying before?”

Hongjoong chuckled, “I’ll drive. You can even invite your friend if you want.”

“Lia?”

“Yeah. If it makes you more comfortable.”

At first, I wanted to say no. At first, I wanted to continue my streak of refusing any advance he made on me. But looking at his kind eyes, completely devoid of any malintent, I felt my heart flutter. When my mind thought back to how he had defended me in the library I felt a warmth bubbling in my chest. I pretended to ponder for a moment, even though I already knew my answer.

“Okay but I don’t...I don’t think I should tell Lia.”

“Why’s that?”

“She kinda hates you.”

He looked taken aback, “Might I ask why?”

I sighed, crossing my arms, “Don’t worry about it. So where is this party?”

He filled me in on the details and I did my best to keep up my neutral façade. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was ecstatic to see him outside of campus, my will of staying away from him faltering by the minute.

I stood in front of my closet for what seemed like hours, desperately trying to find something that would match the occasion. I laughed a bit to myself as I looked at the section of black clothes I had. I went through a bit of an emo phase in middle school and I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of them. I debated avoiding black clothes all together, but the words of Yeosang rang in my head and I bit the inside of my cheek.

Fine. I’ll change it up. But I’ll be damned if I give up on pink.

Taking a deep breath I slipped into a light pink leather skirt reaching mid-thigh with black fishnets. I put on a black leather jacket over my black see through shirt exposing my lacy bra underneath, my pink shoes on last.

I took several deep breaths and observed myself in the mirror. It was a change, definitely. I didn’t mind black, but I wouldn’t wear just black alone. I wanted it to be more feminine.

I heard a car horn outside my apartment much sooner than I expected. Bracing for Hongjoong’s reaction, I stepped outside. I was greeted with a smug smile, the man adorning it seeming as confident as a god until he observed my clothes, his eyebrows raising.

Hongjoong’s eyes scanned over me, taking in my abrupt fashion change, “I still wasn’t entirely certain you’d go. Much less looking like this.”

My lips quirked into half-smile, “Well I can’t show up looking like I normally do.”

“Why not?”

My heart swelled at the genuine confusion evident on his face. “Some people don’t care for the way I dress.” I took a breath and continued, “I heard you and your friends in the library.”

I forced myself to look him in the eyes. I could see the gears turning in his head as he put the pieces together, a scowl forming on his face. “You don’t have to change a goddamn thing. You look great, don’t get me wrong, but you look great in pink, too. And I’m sorry if he made you feel otherwise.”

I shook my head. “It’s alright, I actually kinda like it.”

“You definitely make it work.” He swallowed, voice lowering.

“Then maybe I should wear a bit of black more often.”

The man gave a thousand dollar smile, quirking a brow that left my panties feeling slightly damp. He motioned to the car door, “Hop in, cutie.”

A friendly string of conversation followed us as Hongjoong drove. I felt my nerves starting to dissipate, his smile I once despised now bringing me comfort. And really, he was much funnier than I had believed. I found myself laughing with him more than I had in a long time. I knew my walls were falling, but I wasn’t trying to fight it anymore.

Why the hell not? He’s kind enough, and he isn’t even close to being hard on the eyes.

The car drive was much quicker than I expected, although how quickly I was unfamiliar with my surroundings through me for a loop. The trees around us became more sporadic and the sun set quicker than what seemed normal. I fidgeted slightly, prompting Hongjoong to look over at me. He intertwined my fingers with his own and I smiled, secretly welcoming his touch.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m right here with you, okay?”

I nodded, grasping onto his hand tightly. Before I knew it, my eyes locked with the building in front of us. I took in the abandoned building in front of me, eyes widening slightly as I observed its poor condition. Large windows were shattered, vines were growing around pillars, grass peaking through what once was concrete.

“This is the most sketchy place I’ve ever seen in my life.” I spoke, feeling slightly alarmed by the building but comforted by Hongjoong’s presence.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“I literally just saw a rat run out a broken window.”

Hongjoong suppressed a smile and let go of my hand, opening his car door and telling me to stay in place as he walked around and opened the door on my side. I hesitated as I exited the car, a bit afraid of what could possibly be inside the building.

“We can leave at anytime. If you don’t want to go in we can leave right now. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

As sweet as he was being, I felt the need to prove to him that I was brave enough to enter, even if it did look like he was leading me to my death.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. We can go in.”

He smiled, leading me to an out-of-the-way entrance which seemed to lead to a different building entirely. I gave an involuntary “woah” as we entered the building. As horrific as it looked on the outside, it was gorgeous on the inside. Perfectly up kept brick walls hugged the sides of the building, lights were strung from the ceiling, arcade machines and dart boards were huddled in a corner, and of course, there was a bar with a seemingly unlimited amount of liquor. People were scattered all throughout, socializing and being generally loud. Everyone wore about the same color clothes as Hongjoong, dark as they could possibly get.

“How did you even find this place?”

“My friend Yeosang and I were just driving around and we found it one day. Decided to make it our hangout spot.”

I looked at him confused, still amazed at my surroundings. Hongjoong led me over to his familiar group of friends, assuring me that they wouldn’t bite, and introduced me to the seven men, four of which I hadn’t seen prior. I saw the color drain from a few of their faces as they saw me, likely from their words in the library, but I didn’t comment on it. Overall, they were much friendlier than I expected them to be.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Hongjoong nudged me, “You want anything?”

“No that’s okay. I think I’m gonna check out the pinball machines. They look kinda cool.”

“You sure you don’t wanna stay by my side? I won’t take long.”

I shook my head, “I’ll be okay.”

He chucked, “Alright. I’ll grab a drink and I’ll head right over, princess.”

I bit my lip at the nickname and wandered over to the machines, surprisingly feeling comfortable in the environment, despite everything being so unfamiliar. All of the games were being used, some people clearly playing better than others.

I got lost in the artwork on the side of a particular pinball machine when a gruff voice caught my attention. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?”

I turned to meet a tall man with grey hair. He was young, likely in his mid-twenties, and reeked of cigarettes and a foul smell I couldn’t place.

A flash of fear ran through me and I tried to make my voice as confident as possible, “I was invited.”

“Well...that’s certainly a shame now, isn’t it? I wasn’t invited, but I decided to show up for a bit of fun anyway.”

He came closer to me, our height difference incredibly prominent as he leaned over me, “How about you give me a kiss, little thing?” I ran away as soon as the words left his mouth, hoping that he wouldn’t follow me but assuming he would. I dashed around quickly and sporadically around people, hoping I would lose him.

I looked around desperately for Hongjoong, sighing when I found him surrounded by his friends, laughing at something one of them said. I ran up to him and grabbed his arm, gaining his attention.

I hope this fucking works.

“I need you to kiss me.”

A look of confusion flashed in his eyes, “What?”

“Please kiss me.” I begged, eyes wide, disregarding the stares of his friends around us, hoping that if the man saw I was taken he’d leave me alone.

Without hesitation he wrapped his free hand around my waist—a cup of alcohol still in the other—and pulled me close, pressing his lips to my own. He kissed me hard, biting my bottom lip slightly and letting out a growl only I could hear. He wasn’t my first kiss, far from it, but no one had ever kissed me like he did. Just a kiss had never left me feeling weak at the knees. Just a kiss had ever made me feel so submissive, making me want to beg him to take me right on the spot, regardless of the fear in my veins. Even with the taste of alcohol still on his lips, his scent overtook me.

He pulled back, eyes darker than before, and raised a brow, “Care to tell me what that was about?”

Just then I realized my hands had been gripping his leather coat, pulling him just as close as he was pulling me. I looked over in the direction of where the man was before, not seeing him.

“A man was following me and he was trying to get me to kiss him a-and I didn’t know him...I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

His eyes narrowed at my words, a rage I hadn’t seen before taking over them, “What did he look like?”

“I-I don’t know he was tall and had grey hair and-”

He cursed under his breath. Keeping me just as close he turned to the men around him, their eyes narrowed as well.

“You heard that?” He asked his friends.

“Loud and clear.” San said, cracking his knuckles, a scowl on his face that scared me, even though I knew I wasn’t the one it was directed at.

“I thought we told him to never come back here.” Jongho snarled.

“We did.” Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa looked at me, nodding to Hongjoong, “Keep her safe and take her out of here. If he’s here I’m sure he’s brought friends. Yeosang, lead everyone out. We’ll take care of him.”

Hongjoong looked conflicted, obviously wanting to stay and fight, but gave into the older man’s command. “Be fucking safe,” he barked, but I could see the fear in his eyes as he looked at me, “Come on, we’re going.”

Seonghwa mumbled something to Hongjoong and he nodded in response, tossing his alcohol to the ground. I didn’t have time to ask questions as he led me out a back door, the darkness of the night equally horrifying and comforting, and quickly pushed me into his car, apologizing the entire time. He entered the key into the ignition and the car sprung to life.

“Uhh...maybe it’s not a good idea for you to drive. You’ve been drinking, right?”

“I had maybe two sips. I’ll drive safe, promise.”He gave me a small comforting smile, “Put your seatbelt on. Hold on tight, sweetheart.” His voice was calm but firm as he spoke. I nodded and did as he said, bracing as his car sped off, my heart beating in overtime.

The ride was a blur, the only things I could remember being Hongjoong’s calming voice, periodically reassuring me that things would be okay. We arrived at a foreign building which Hongjoong called his house, and only then did I let myself fall apart. I felt tears streaming down my face as my hands quivered, my head beginning to pound.

“Hey, hey look at me. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.” My teary eyes met his and I felt my heart break at the way he was looking at me, as if he had made me cry himself.

“Here, come on. Let’s get you inside, okay?”

My tears slowed as he carefully led me inside his house, sitting me down on his bed. He crouched down in front of me, wiping the tears from my face.

“I’m so sorry, princess. I didn’t realize he was going to be there. I never should’ve made you come along I’m so-”

“Who was that?”

Hongjoong sighed, “He used to be a friend of mine. We had a falling out and he became violent. One time he showed up at one of our parties with some friends of his to start a fight. We won and told him to never come back. Looks like he did.” He looked off into nowhere, regret clear on his face.

“You didn’t know,” I sniffled, “You couldn’t have known.”

I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten, his agitation still visible. I brought a hand out to reach his own, trying to comfort him. The loud ding of Hongjoong’s phone made me jump and he apologized profusely. As he took out his phone from his pants pocket I looked around his room for the first time. It looked exactly as I had expected, solid black furniture and so many band posters decorating the wall I could hardly tell what color his bedroom walls were.

Hongjoong spoke up, “I just got a text from Seonghwa. There were two other people there with him. My friends took care of them don’t worry, you’re safe.”

I nodded, pulling him into a hug and burying my face into his chest. “If you’re comfortable with it,” He started, “I’d like you to stay here. I want to know you’re safe.”

My eyes met his as he moved a hair out of my face, “I’m not pressuring you. If you don’t want to I understand.”

A hand of his ran up and down my back, tracing little patterns here and there, and I realized just how much I wanted to be with him.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay.”

He laughed, “What do you mean ‘if it’s alright with you’ I asked.”

I bit my bottom lip and looked down, a bit embarrassed.

Hongjoong laughed, “Hey, look at me.” He said in a commanding yet sweet tone that made my thighs press together. I glanced back up at him, his handsome features making me feel dizzy.

He chuckled, “What’s that look for? You got something to say to me?”

I hesitated, “Actually, I do have a question.”

“Which is?”

“Why did you chase after me?”

Hongjoong smiled, “You never gave a reaction to anything I tried. It confused me and piqued my curiosity. So I began to watch you and how you interacted with people. You’re gentle and sweet. You’re innocent and haven’t let the world tear you down. I admire that.”

He leaned closer to me, his lips brushing my ear, “And it turned me on beyond belief. I wondered how I could ruin you, thought about how I could turn you into a quivering mess as you beg for me.”

I shivered and pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. His beautiful, dark eyes. Hongjoong let out a dark chuckle as he sat on his bed, lifting me on his lap. He gave an eyebrow raise and a crooked smile as my breath hitched while looking at him, taking him in.

How did I never notice how his dark hair falls to one side when he cocks his head and how he looks so endearing when it happens? How did I never pay attention to his soft pink lips that give way to his gorgeous smile and how much I’ve been dying to kiss them all this time? How did I not see the way his eyes form crescents when he smiles, making my heart grow ten times over?

Why did I never think to take note of how his deep voice makes my stomach do somersaults? Why was I so unaware of his tongue piercing that was leaving me wonder how it would feel on my skin? Why didn’t I observe the black painted nails of his that were currently dancing along my thighs, giving me goosebumps?

How and why did I never notice him?

“You’re such a good girl.”

And for the first time around him, I flushed.

He chuckled, “Oh? You like that?”

I nodded quickly and he said it again, smiling as my face heated up once more.

“It’s so good to see you react to what I say. I wonder...” Hongjoong leaned closer to me, “How will you react when you’re underneath me? Squirming and begging for me to touch you?”

I gave him a look of desperation and balled his shirt into my fist, trying to move him closer, “Please.”

Hongjoong lifted me off of him, quickly discarding my clothes followed by his own shirt. My eyes were guided down by his abs and I ran a hand across them without thinking, whimpering quietly.

“Is my baby girl getting needy?” He cooed.

I closed my eyes, once again nodding in embarrassment.

“How about we take care of that?”

He laid me down on the soft sheets of his bed, leaving me in anticipation as he pinned my hands above my head with a hand of his own. My eyes widened and he chuckled, running a single finger along my folds.

“You’re so unbelievably fucking wet...do I turn you on that much?”

I let out a small “yes” and he hummed in response. Placing a few kisses upon my lips, Hongjoong slowly entered two fingers into me and my back arched. His fingers curled, hitting a spot inside of me that’d I’d never been able to reach. I spread my legs as far as they could go, pleading for more, feeling tears prick my eyes.

Hongjoong spoke, his voice already dropping several octaves, “Keep your hands here, understand? I don’t want you moving them.”

I nodded, willing my hands to stay in place as his own moved to my hips, leaving kisses along my inner thighs.

“Hongjoong please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“Please touch me.”

“Oh, I think I can do better than that, don’t you?”

His lips attached to my core, tongue running through my folds and nose hitting my clit as I moaned pathetically. His hands held my hips down as I tried to buck them up, barely able to keep my hands above my head. After what felt like years, his mouth finally reached my clit and I cried out as his lips attached to it, sucking hard and leaving kitten licks. My high built up quickly and I came hard, my hands leaving their spot and pulling slightly on his hair.

“Thought I told you to keep your hands above your head, no?”

I mumbled an apology and he leaned over to kiss me, “You’re forgiven, darling.”

He seemed just as impatient as I was and without much begging the rest of his clothes were off, his dick teasing my entrance.

“God Hongjoong please I need you so bad.”

“I need you too, y/n.”

He fully entered me, cursing as he did so. I was so caught up in the feeling of him inside of me that I didn’t even register him asking me a question until he laughed at me.

“Feeling good, baby? Can’t even speak?”

I whimpered, nodding seeming to be the only thing I could manage to do. I felt his member twitch inside of me and I pleaded for him to fuck me, to give me anything. Hongjoong growled and jerked his hips up into me over and over, leaving me a moaning mess.

“Taking me so well, aren’t you? Such a good girl for me.”

The amount of praise he gave me caused a few tears to fall from my eyes, not realizing how bad I needed it until that moment. My walls clenched around him every time, causing him to groan and snap his hips into me even harder. Hongjoong’s eyes grew hazy, his dark hair sticking to his forehead.

“I’m close, darling. Be my good girl and cum for me”

His hand trailed down to my clit, rubbing tiny circles. My back arched as I came in time with him, our breaths synchronizing as we gasped for air.

He slowly pulled out of me and ran to the bathroom to grab a towel, cleaning me up. Hongjoong giggled and I raised a brow at him.

“I never thought you’d give me a chance. It’s almost like I’ve corrupted you.”

“You have. Aren’t you aware of the party I went to because of you? I almost died.”

Hongjoong laughed as he crawled into bed and pulled blankets over the both of us. He ran a hand through my hair, looking at me fondly, “You did not almost die.”

“Okay yeah but I could have. That’s what we should be focusing on here.”

“I think there’s something else I’d like to focus on.”

Hongjoong pulled me into a deep kiss, hand slithering down to my waist. His kisses trailed to my ear, a slight chuckle leaving his lips, “My pretty princess.”

I looked at him with doe eyes, slightly in awe of him, and wondered how I could’ve pushed him away for so long. I knew for certain that I had no intention of doing so ever again.

When I told him he smiled, “Good. You’ve had a grip on my heart since day one. I’d be a fool to let you get away from me.”

I blushed slightly, much to his entertainment. We snuggled up to each other in silence, listening to the sound of our synchronized breathing as I lulled to sleep, our warm fingers intertwined. My dreams filled of him.

“Sleep well, my princess. I’ll be right here when you wake.”

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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A Distant Dream III // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to then confess his feelings. Only the soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, grief, magic wardrobe, talk of death, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.2k

A/N: I’m loving this series omg.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

“It should be somewhere in here,” Julie spoke with the flashlight scanning the basement the Molina’s didn’t use. She was hunting for the spare cord her mother had always carried with the amp for the few times she played with her old band for fun.

Most of the stuff had found its way in the basement, collecting dust and leaving sadness in its wake. Reggie’s had snapped early this morning to his great disappointment and with no spare in sight.

As Julie’s hand brushed her old childhood dollhouse, a soft golden light gleamed from further back. Her brown eyes finding the corner when the golden glow was framing a square in the distance. Rocking back on the heels of her feet, Julie stared at the sight.

Faint music came from the surrounding area of the golden glow. The Puerto Rican is enthralled by the bewitching music coming from the back of the basement. Her sneakered feet walking closer to the wardrobe as the creak of a door came from it.

Julie halted as the sheet slipped off, revealing the old wood to her brown eyes and the golden glow brightening the room further. The telltale sound of noise behind her concealed by the music that grew louder and louder. The door unlatched itself with a form slamming the basement floor with a slam.

Julie stumbled back. A deep groan pulled from the stranger’s lips before Julie’s scream ripped through the once empty room. The cry of a male behind her joining the screams as Julie turned on her heel halting at the pure unadulterated fear on Alex’s face.

“What the hell?” Alex hissed, staring at the prone form of a girl with long hair intricately pinned in places. The formal hairstyle at war with the outfit Alex could just barely make out as a plaid skirt reaching mid-thigh over sheer black tights. The colour of the skirt concealed by the dim lighting.

“Peter.” The name slipped from your lips filled with anguish as you frantically crawled to the wardrobe to search it.

The scream of grief falling from your lips as your hand made contact with the wooden back of the wardrobe. Your arms wrapped around your middle as you collapsed into yourself as it cemented in your brain. Your life in Narnia ended in seconds.

“Excuse me? How the heck did you do that?” Julie’s terrified voice questioned as she fought her impulse to run. Just as she had from the boys when they first appeared in the studio.

The truth of the matter settling you swiftly turned to the voice surprised you had left yourself vulnerable to attack. Your wild eyes scanning the room for a sword, or even your bow that was always strapped to you. You found only a basement with old furniture instead and two teens staring shocked at you.

“Where-“

“Y/N?” The blonde boy gasped stumbling forward taken aback by the sudden appearance of his little sister. Your eyes meeting his blue confused before memories of him snapped in your brain previously hidden behind a wall.

“Alex?” You questioned, throwing yourself into his arms to wrap your arms around him as you dissolved into sobs. Alex melting into your body sobbing just as hard.

“I’m two seconds away from storming Dr. Turner’s office, I swear. First, three ghosts appear in my studio and now a girl out of a wardrobe also from the ’90s.” Julie muttered scrubbing her hand over her face. Your eyes wandering to her form in confusion at what she had said.

“’ also from the ’90s’?” You asked, stepping one step away from Alex who refused to let you go as if you would disappear once more, “What year is it?”

“How about we talk about this in the studio. Reggie and Luke are in the studio, I came to get Julie. You’ve been down here for a while.” Alex suggested with a look that Julie caught quickly. Alex didn’t want to prolong the reunion with the rest of the guys.

Alex walked up from the basement with Julie straight to the door with dozens of questions in his brain. This was a change he welcomed with open arms and a happy heart. The house was empty as Ray had taken Carlos to an all-day out of town baseball tournament.

Luke and Reggie’s voices drifted out from the studio blocked by the white barn doors only partially open. The two arguing about the band playing one of Reggie’s country songs on stage. Their attention not on the three people walking into the room as Luke stretched out on his back on his sofa. Reggie curled in one of the armchairs beside the couch.

“It’s not our sound!” Luke spoke, staring his bassist down with a heated glare that wasn’t as harsh as if it was someone else.

“Pop wasn’t either but look where we are now?” Reggie retorted with his arms crossed and a pout painted on his flushed face. Alex could sigh at the same debate that happened at least twice a week.

“Sunset Curve is pop now?” Your soft voice still tortured with loss bringing both the boys to the front of the studio. Standing uncomfortable in the clothing that revealed more skin in the fifteen years you had been in Narnia.

The gasps would have amused Alex had this sudden development not happened, especially when his long lost sister fell out of a wardrobe. Luke and Reggie stumbled to their feet in pure astonishment seeing the person they had dreamed of seeing one more time.

“Holy shit.” Luke choked blinking frantically as you sent an awkward smile to the face of the person that had haunted you for fifteen years.

“Y/N?” Reggie cried, raising both hands to cover his mouth as if it would hold in the heartbreaking sobs.

Julie took the initiative to step to the side to allow the reunion to happen without a distraction, but really it was impossible. A bomb could drop, and none of the ’90s teens would notice with their attention solely on each other.

“Are you a ghost?” Reggie questioned you with furrowed brows. Alex’s hand intertwined with yours.

At the familiar texture and comfort of your older brother’s comforting hand, your eyes clenched tight—tears building at the very different hands you had held for over a decade.

“Ghost?” You questioned, clearing your tight throat in bewilderment. Your e/c eyes changing between the three different eyes. The three boys shared a glance with each other, “Does anyone have a sweater I could borrow?”

Alex was surprised at the request, “You want a sweater? You adore midriff shirts.”

“That was before.” You simply stated, “So what has happened?”

That was the words that shattered the frozen form of Luke Patterson, who stumbled his way to hug you. His arms wrapping around, brought both relief but also guilt. This was the guy that had been the third party of your marriage without even knowing. The thoughts caused your muscles to tense, leading Luke to a different conclusion.

Luke believed you rejected his hug because you blamed him.

“You’re not a ghost?” Reggie questioned following as you sat on the sofa in such an uncharacteristic position.

Your posture entirely pin straight with an air of regality that went above the posture you had as a young Mercer. Alex’s eyebrows raised almost into his hairline at how you held yourself compared to the slight slouch you developed away from your parents. His blue eyes caught the calm mask that concealed your panic under a practised mask.

“You disappeared in 1994 after you spent supper with my family.” Luke softly started recalling the night his life first changed for the worse, “You left just before dark after time got away from us. You sent a smile before the plants hid your form and I never saw you again.”

A sad smile broke the mask you wore, “I’m sorry the fifteen years have made it difficult for memories.”

“Fifteen years?” Julie interrupted, bringing your attention to the girl in the corner with a soft voice. Her eyes couldn’t help scan you and Alex finding the similarities and differences, but she loved how relaxed Alex looked in your presence.

“Time is…different where I was.” The sentence was slow to leave your lips as your eye wandered the different version of the studio.

“Was it a black room?” Reggie inquired shifting for Julie to have space to sit down without her limbs moving through Reggie’s leg. Alex was quick to settle on your left side with Luke in the closest armchair to you.

“No?” You trailed off thinking of the years you had spent ruling a kingdom with your in-laws, “I-I think when I left Luke’s house, there was this music. Like a lullaby that drew me into this antique store and a voice out of a dream. I was entranced, and then I was in a different world.”

“You have an accent.” Luke implored finally seeing the mature difference in your demeanour, posture and personality, “Like it’s English but still sounds like you. Were you in England?”

The soft giggle came from your lips, “No. I swear on Aslan I wasn’t in England.”

Everyone was deaf to Julie’s confusion and her soft repeat of the name you whispered into the air. The word drawing a sense of having had heard it before it comes her way.

“Who’s Aslan?” Alex asked unclipping his infamous fanny pack to remove the pink sweater. He couldn’t help but see the way you tugged the plaid skirt down and your black crop top down.

Your hand grasped the soft material of the pink sweater, the first pink garment Alex had owned. His pride and joy of a sweater was slipped over your outfit landed past the hem of your skirt.

“He’s…” Your words broke off, trying to find a way how to tell them that Aslan ruled the entirety of Narnia. He created it, but he was a lion that could talk.

“I’d like to know how you’ve been in that wardrobe for so long!” Julie gushed unable to hold back her curiosity, “My parents got that as a wedding gift when they were moving into the house. It was shifted downstairs because my mom couldn’t let it go for the sentimental value.”

“I’m sorry but wardrobe? She came- you came out of a wardrobe?” Alex wondered, shaking his head before he said his infamous word, “Okay.”

“I was trying to find a spare cord for Reggie, but out of absolutely nowhere, this music came from the back area. This pretty golden hue lit up the room, and then she just fell out of the wardrobe.”

“I’m so confused,” Reggie whispered to himself, staring off into the distance at two things he had learnt.

You had gone missing before they died yet for you, only fifteen years had gone by.

You had been in a wardrobe. A wardrobe!

“So are you dead or not?” Julie asked next leaning forward to face you in anticipation for the new piece of information. Her inquisitive brown eyes glittering in the light of the studio as you tried to find the correct words.

“I’m alive.” You decided to go the simple route, “I’m guessing that you three are dead?”

Alex, Reggie and Luke all nodded with each other, “Street dogs. How aren’t you fazed?”

“Uh, I walked into a wardrobe. Joined a war, won the war, got crowned for the kingdom by Aslan, and grew up.” You tapped a finger for each piece of your fifteen years, much easier to just use your perspective, “Fifteen years ruling with Peter and his siblings.”

“Peter?” Alex inquired with one dark blonde eyebrow raised high with caution written clearly on his youthful face.

“My husband.” The words choked everyone in the damn room, and Luke felt like he could puke. The girl he was still very much in love with was now taken by someone else just weeks after he grieved the almost-relationship he could have had with you.

Adjusting to the new world, the third time in your, life wasn’t as difficult as you would have expected. Well, adapting to the technological advances and the new band Sunset Curve had evolved into. The relationship with Luke was at simplicity quite awkward, something Luke never anticipated when he envisioned finding you.

It was painful for everyone in the room with you two. You were trying to deal with the guilt of abandoning your kingdom, of your Narnian friends, of not being with the Pevensies. You had a strong suspicion they had returned back to England, and the time was the hardest to deal with.

Instead of 1994, the current year was 2020 for you—twenty-six years in this world but fifteen in Narnia. You didn’t look a day over your age in 1994. Looking in mirrors was startling every time to see your teen youth instead of the thirty-one-year-old.

Happily, the bond with Alex hadn’t diminished if anything it had gotten stronger. He was assimilating to the new fashion you liked. You had a more mature style and preferred modest outfits; the Narnian fashion was still very much part of you.

Reggie adored hearing the adventures you had done in Narnia, he grew a crush on the version of Lucy you told. He was definitely awed at how you had had a stable of horses that could talk, some weren’t vocal.

All three boys were jealous of the fact that despite being born in the late ’70s, you were alive in 2020. You could touch and interact with everyone while they only had each other, and now you. Flynn had been sceptical but grew to be friends with you.

For you, you would be found staring out the window in the attic of the Molina house where you had settled in. A rather long-winded explanation of being from overseas and your housing having fallen through. Ray and welcomed you into the home with open arms.

“Hey! We’re gonna go explore. Do you wanna come with us?” Alex asked from his spot near the door he had poked his head through. His smile turning upside down at the lost look in your eyes and fingers that played with the only evidence of your Narnian life.

The ring you had worn since Peter had proposed ten years ago with a specially designed ring by the best of the business. Cair Paravel’s military General, formerly of Aslan’s Army, Oreius’ sister Odette had personally pushed the contract to the front.

The ring was absolutely breathtaking of a moonstone set in a rose gold floral metal setting with tiny diamonds in a flora design. It was definitely made with the rarest rose gold, and the moonstone was personally found on a quest Peter had gone on. You were thrilled it had survived the return to the human world.

“Y/N?” Alex spoke once more, gaining your attention from the overcast sky with a bittersweet smile.

“Hey, Alex.” You replied, walking closer for the hug he had quickly made into a requirement every time he saw you.

“Reggie, Luke and I are going to explore if you want to join us.”

The offer was tempting even if you had to submit to being in an awkward environment with Luke Patterson. Seeing him each time brought that love that had overshadowed Peter’s love and that in itself brought tremendous guilt.

“I think I’ll hang here. Thank you for inviting me, Alex.” You softly replied as you retreated to the bed in the large renovated attic. Ray and Rose had renovated it into living space when Julie was still in elementary school.

Ray had spent a few months staying in the attic room after Rose passed away because he couldn’t even touch the doorknob. His sister in law Victoria had to help move things to the attic as Ray mourned his wife.

“I’ll be right back,” Alex told you before he poofed, something you still couldn’t wrap your mind around.

Instead of Alex returning it was Luke with that sheepish smile he adorned in the last week you had returned. Your e/c eyes widened in surprise when they met the hazel of his own.

“Luke.” You breathed astounded as he hesitantly walked closer, “Aren’t you going with Reggie and Alex?”

Luke’s hand gestured to the bed, “May I sit?”

“Yeah!” You nodded shifted to create distance between you and the guitarist that had once held your heart in his hands.

Things were different. The ring on your left hand said so. The wedding ceremony in Narnia said so. Yet your heart didn’t understand further than the yearning and love it throbbed with.

“Alex kinda hit some sense into me. This has been…a rather confusing time since that night in 1995.” Luke didn’t talk about his experience dying with anyone because he was still working through it. To avoid the pain and trauma, he focused on the band instead.

“I can attest to that. A week ago, I was with my family hunting for the White Stag content with my life. Next thing I knew I’m racing after Lucy into a wardrobe in which blasted me with memories.” You sighed thinking back to the banter with Edmund and Susan before Lucy uttered ‘Spare Oom’ of a distant time, “I feel terrible that I had no conscious recollection of my life before Narnia. I’d see a tall blonde in the crowd and have this sudden emotion of loss. I forgot about my own brother.”

“I can’t blame you for anything. You had a responsibility to an entire kingdom.”

“Part of me must have remembered because when I was gifted my horse, it asked me to name her. I chose Mercer without thinking about why. It’s always interested me in the reason behind the choice.” You played with the bedspread to avoid his face and the guilt of abandoning him unintentionally or not.

“How was the music in Narnia?” Luke inquired, bringing a neutral topic to once best friends in the process of recovering the friendship, “Any rock?”

The laugh lightened the heaviness in Luke’s chest and brought a smile to both the teens’ faces. Music was always one of the topics you could talk for hours with the band given the classical background you had.

“None that we had the honour of hearing.” The grin brought a smile to Luke’s face as well, and then some of the pieces of your friendship found their place in the frame.

“So, tell me more about this place.”

And so, you did as the sun set and then rose hours later while you were content to retell the tale of your time. The war with the White Witch and watching Edmund take his last breath and his first one after a drop from Lucy’s Cordial.

As you retold your tale of adventures to Luke, a quartet of siblings scoured a wardrobe decades before the conversation commenced.

A little girl sobbing for her lost sister and greatest friend while her oldest brother closed himself off. A seventeen-year-old closed himself off, finding it difficult adjusting to being a teen once more. As if he hadn’t lived fifteen years with his wife beside him. As if he never had a wife.

Above is the Narnia engagement ring reader wears from Peter

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Sound Proof

okay so this fic was from Wattpad and I found it in my google docs so I’m just gonna upload it here for ya’ll lol. I didn’t tag, I wrote this a while ago let me know what ya’ll think!!!

Warnings: Smut.

With dancing, came immense concentration and a lot of cardio.

That was all okay for Damara. She wore her silk pressed hair back into a pony, simple Polo Ralph Lauren hat on to keep her edges slicked back, high waist thin grey leggings, all white cropped tank, and matching white Vans. Damara held onto the aluminum double bar Ballet barre, studying her glistening reflection within the wall mirrors that covered every single area from floor to ceiling.

Her chest rose and fell, right hand coming up to rub sweat off the tip of her nose. She had thirty minutes down, only twenty more to go. Being a pro dancer was fun when you posted tutorials on Instagram and YouTube, but when it came down to touring internationally and getting a chance to perform at Coachella, dance became a full time job.

Damara stares down at her version three iWatch, allowing herself to become consumed with the breathing app. She watched it expand with every breath, then declined whenever she exhaled. After her breathing returned to normal, Damara pulled up her iTunes playlist again, choosing to go sensual with a little bit of flash dance routine.

The instrumental to Kendrick Lamar- Love.

This song was always a warm up for her because it got her ‘in the mood’. She could feel the want and need behind the beat and his words. Damara snakes her hands up her frame, sliding slowly from the cuff of her ass, to her lower back, and lightly up and over her shoulders, forearms pressing into her large D cup breasts.

One thing is for sure, Damara could move her torso like Shakira, body rolling and ticking to the beat with perfect harmony. Doing a sudden spin on her tiptoes, Damara Lowers herself to the polished flooring, arching her back off of the surface with her legs spread into a V, before lifting her lower half off the ground to do a series of air kicks like she was back in an 80s workout video or like she was in Kanye West’s video for Fade instead of Teyana Taylor.

She turned over onto her hands, hitting a side to side split perfectly before lifting from the ground to walk seductive and tantalizing towards the middle of the dance studio.

That’s where it began, the sweatiest most bewitching dance yet. Her hands cascade everywhere, eyes closed to take in the beat with heightened hearing. Her hands rubbed along the outline of her pussy in a teasing manner. Damara was so shameless when it came to dancing provocatively. She twirled and made an S with her body like a snake, body in sync to the beat. The sultry look in her eyes could trap you like Medusa. You would think she danced to one of Prince's songs from the outside looking in.

The song came to an end, Damara lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it in the corner, picking up her gallon water bottle to take a huge sip. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the burn in her curvy waistline from all the crunching and belly rolling that came with dancing. Her gluteal muscles were on fire as well, causing Damara to admire her ass in the mirror, sweat staining the crack of her ass over the fabric.

—

Finishing up, Damara grabs all her things before leaving the dance studio at the gym she finally snagged a membership for. The gym had two sections: one for premium guests who had VIP access to the soundproof workout rooms or standard. Sadly, Damara was standard. She always wanted to workout in the soundproof tinted glass rooms like all the extremely fit individuals did, but one look through those glasses at the equipment housed within would make you withdraw with fear. Her personal trainer had stressed for her to go VIP, bribing her with access to the ice bath room and luxury pool where you can watch the LA skyline like you’re in a hotel.

She made a left at the end of the hall, walking with her shirt and towel over her shoulder to the main gymnasium area full of musky people and terrible workout music. Even though Damara did a one hour session of dancing, she couldn’t help but to gravitate towards the stair master for a good fifteen minute burn. Once there, Damara climbs the stairs, beginning her workout on nine speed, instantly feeling the ache. Her eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a group of women huddled around one of the sound proof workout rooms for VIP gold card members.

She let out a tired chuckle, shaking her ponytail clad head before pausing to drink some water. Of COURSE they would all salivate over some random ass man instead of working out, because that’s what gyms are for these days. On queue every day Damara comes to the gym, once the clock strikes 8 pm, a hoard of women suffocate the glass, fogging it with their heavy breathing and wetting it with saliva from their wiggling tongues. Damara would have been one of them if she listened to her group of girlfriends who didn’t come in tonight. Supposedly, there is this fine ass man that comes to the gym every day, around 8 pm. Damara never seems to catch him, and even if she did, no man was that fine to act like a hyena over. He couldn’t be that sexy.

“Ooo, girl, let me get off this got damn treadmill he back again!” Damara turned to find a short, slim, mocha skinned girl with a track runners body ogling the group of women, her friend who looked like she could be her sister, biting her lip.

“I wonder if he’s doing the pull ups right now, fuckk. You know his dick stay hard when he working out.”

The other girl laughs, “I just want to suck it. Just give me one good time!”

Both women laughed while Damara tries her best to work out and ignore them. But to her surprise, she couldn’t focus. Not because of the talking, but because she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe after this she could rub it in her friends faces that whoever this guy was, wasn’t about the hype after all.

Defeated, Damara stopped her workout, quickly lowering herself off the machine and towards some spray and paper towels to wipe away her sweat. Tossing everything, Damara makes her way towards the sound proof workout room straight across from the men’s locker room.

Here she was, and yet just a few minutes ago she was laughing to herself at how ridiculous it was to come to a gym and stare at a man for two hours. Wasn’t no man fine enough for that.

The glass window straight ahead had about seven ladies standing in front of it, whispering and admiring at what looked like absolutely nothing to Damara. It was so dark she couldn’t see a thing. As she got closer, at first, all she could see through that glass was the usual workout machines of all types and weight racks. Just before she could walk away, he started lifting those weights. Suddenly, as if pulled by some type of force field, Damara turned into a fan girl with glossy eyes and a watery mouth. He had to be the one her friends were talking up. There is no way he couldn’t be the one with how fine he is.

“This must be your first time noticing Erik.”

Damara turned to the lady who looked to be twice her age standing next to her.

Damara didn’t respond, she simply looked back at him through that tinted glass. He was so fucking sexy that her jaw dropped; literally. Erik was definitely the one her friends were juiced up over. Not the juice you drink, but the drip from that pussy when she hungry for a nigga as damn fine as he is.

Erik had been bench pressing weights and she couldn’t get a good enough look at him until he lowered the weights. Yeah, when he was laid out on his back, sweaty muscles moving as he lifted 280 pounds over his head he looked good, but GOD once he stood up was she slapped with his looks.

Erik was wearing sweat shorts that dropped low around his waist, a damp sweat top and a pair of Nike Air Max Trainer 1s on his feet.

His braided back dreads were damp from the perspiration; it really set off his caramel complexion.

Erik returned his weights to their respective places and stood facing that mirror with a bottle of gatorade. Damara could really see how perfect he was. Fine wasn’t even the word, it was so much she could say about him. The look in his eyes, the way his muscles moved in conjunction with him, the smoothness of his skin, the hairstyle that compliments him very well, and let’s not forget those lips. She figured he got many compliments on his lips, as beautiful and suckable as they were. That thick erection he was sporting was an added bonus. All she could see was herself lowering onto it and rocking like crazy, like she was riding a horse. When she returned to reality from her lustful daze, she noticed her hands were flat against the glass, jaw STILL dropped, and her nipples tender and hard practically clawing at him. They were so hard that they were hurting, and the feeling of his lips pulling and sucking and licking on them would have been exactly what she needed, just pull her shirt down and suck em.

All of that talk and fantasizing in her head, ironically made his eyes meet hers. Damara swore she thought those big, dark eyes could see her and only her. The lady she ignored next to her smiled, like she knew what Damara was going through. She did, that’s why her and the others were still there.

——

Feeling a little foolish and embarrassed by her behavior, Damara asked the lady next to her if Erik could see them or was it one of those half way windows.

“Girl, he can see us alright. That’s why his dick is so big and hard poking through those shorts. He sees something he likes.”

Damara looked back at him, and right then like a spark had been ignited, he smiled a little at her with dimples, then winked before downing the rest of his gatorade. Damara could feel her knees buckle, body so nervous. She decided it was most definitely time to bounce. That night, Damara never told her girls about seeing the living legend, but she did go back the following day, a Wednesday, to stare him down at that window again. She purposely went there alone to have him to herself. It was crazy how obsessed he became.

——

After about a week or so of admiring Erik through that glass, Damara decided to take it up a notch and use the adjoining women’s workroom; yeah, like she could actually bench press any of the equipment in there. Getting into that women’s workroom meant that she had to become a gold member. The upgrade was about 20 dollars more, which landed her to about 80 dollars a month; great.

She felt like she’d been walking the yellow brick road to the emerald city. Opening those double glass doors to her new sanctuary, she could smell musk no longer, only fresh air and a cool breeze. The music was even better in there, sicko mode playing low through the speakers. It was approximately 7:50 pm, so she knew Erik would be arriving soon.

At about 8:15, a little later than usual, Erik pulled open the doors and walked into the men’s workroom. He had his dreads crinkled and messy, a pair of Beats solo 3 in black with gold trim over his ears, black Nike pro training top that clung to his body like it was two sizes too small, matching black shorts that hung low on his hips with the waistband of his compression pants peeking through. He hadn’t immediately seen Damara on the other side since she was in the corner tugging on the pull ropes that she couldn’t make budge. She didn’t really know what to do. If she popped out of nowhere near that window, she could scare him to death, and he’d be mad. He looked like the no nonsense type too.

Damara decided that hiding wouldn’t fix anything so she came out into the open to do some yin yoga poses that helped stretch her body. Sitting Indian style, she started with the butterfly, bending forward while gripping her shoes. The stretch made her moan, all the tension in her back disappearing. Next, she decided on the dragon, bringing one foot forward in a low lunge, stretching out her glutes and back again. Admiring herself, she liked the way her ass looked in the tinted mirror, and apparently so did Erik. Her heart dropped to her stomach like she’d been on the tallest roller coaster, her eyes reverting towards the ground. Damara could feel his eyes on her still as she lifted from the ground, rolling her neck. With one hand on the back of her neck to stretch the muscles, her eyes met his again. That same slight smile graced his face again, almost innocent, but those eyes were dark and sultry, like hot coal.

The heat turned down just a little, Erik walking away leaving Damara a flustered mess.

——

He started out with a little cross training. Damara watched from her workout mat in between doing crunches. Next, he pumped a little iron. She noticed how he enjoyed admiring himself when he lifted weights. The veins in his arms would bulge so much it looked like they wanted to break the surface of his skin. She could see his mouth slightly opened, concentration set in his features, and she just knew he was making those grunting, straining noises that guys make when they workout. Watching those muscles flex and bulge like that made her weak in the knees again. She liked the feeling. When he lay on his back to do the leg lifts, that’s when she lost it in a major way. The weight Damara had in her hand to do Russian twists fell down on her shoulder. She screamed out without even knowing it. All she could feel was pain beginning to throb in her left shoulder, and she laid back on the floor massaging it with a whimper. Unfortunately, at that time Erik was the last thing on her mind. When Damara got enough nerve to look at the window, Erik was pressed against it looking at her. He mouthed to her since it was sound proof, “You aight, Lil Mama?”

After Damara figured out his words, she nodded and gave him the okay symbol with a tired smile. Erik stares at her for a few seconds, scanning her frame in that PUMA workout suit she decided to wear, then moved on to the leg machine again. Damara liked the way he scouted her, and that made the pain in her shoulder go unnoticed.

——

Throughout their workouts, they would peep each other, and he liked the attention she was showering him with. There he was again with those pull-ups, directly facing her with intimidation in his eyes. Somehow, he had lost his shirt along the way, sweat pouring off his body like he’d been doing push-ups in the rain.

Damara’s workout suit was almost see-through and hugging all her curves, and he definitely paid attention because his erection was good and hard, tenting the front of those black workout shorts like wild. Damara wanted to think it was solely her making those pants tent like that, but working the hell out of those machines may have played a role in it. She’s good, but not that good.

The more she looked at Erik, the more she wanted to taste him, feel him pressing into her throat.

Damara looked down at her iWatch and realized it was minutes to closing time, but she couldn’t leave that room, let alone that window. She hated to leave because he was worth staying and getting caught with. Knowing the kind of man Erik was, he probably got a kick out of the chicks staring his fine ass down, then going home to his equally fine ass girl. That was the kind of luck Damara had: finding the juiciest man on the planet, but not able to land him because he was taken.

Damara suddenly had a lightbulb moment. Erik was a gold member, with a passkey to leave the gym if he ever got locked in. Damara could lie and say she lost her passkey, having to go to him to get out...or to get off! Shit, lord knows she needs that, it’s been way too long. Suddenly, Erik made a move she hadn’t been prepared for. He stepped away from the weight trainer and approached the window again. Damara couldn’t move, couldn’t muster a speech, all she could do was watch him approach her with that sweaty, perfect body. Maybe not so perfect to some because it was littered with tiny raised scars, but to her it was absolutely perfect. Man, the closer he got to her, the hotter she got. In all her orgasmic nonsense with a pussy so wet and probably creaming her panties, it soon dawned on her that he probably approached her to ask her why she’s still there; that maybe he was tired of being stared at as if he were a zoo animal. Damara got scared and backed up.

Erik backed up a bit, confusion on his face before chuckling, giving her a head to toe view of him, then he got busy. His eyes stared into hers as he massaged that massive erection up and down through his pants. Damara could feel her nectar elevating within her core. Then it hit her, he was about to give her a private sex show. Was she about to bounce? Fuck no, she stayed and watched everything that pretty nigga did.

When his erection got hard and thick within his pants, he let out a fucking dazzling smile that could make her cum right there. No man had ever smiled so wickedly at her that her panties got wet; then again, she’d never met Erik. His pecs were mouthwatering to the point of drool, contours and ripples were everywhere. All her nasty little tongue wanted to do was lick, lick from his collarbone to his abs and continue south. Her hands shook as they clutched her chest, feeling her nipples brush against her fingers. All the while, her eyes never left his.

——-

Bending to remove his shoes and socks was a chore because that delicious dick was in the way, but he managed. His fingers beckoned Damara to get closer. Damara knew he was going to slide his pants down next, the nigga was clever with his seduction. She moved back to that window, and watched him slide his shorts to his hips. His dick bounced out, sprang to life, and she dropped to her knees, wondering how all that would feel stroking her insides. He was real heavy, the type of dick where the tip and about two inches could only fit in the pussy. The type of dick where you would push him away while he blew your back out from getting too deep. The type of dick where you had to use two hands to jerk while you sucked; you really gotta be a pro to suck a dick like that with no hands, not to mention ride a dick like that.

Erik bit at his plump bottom lip, massaging it with his tongue while his hand massaged that long pole; that damn snake. The more he stroked, the bigger and bigger it became within his hand. He strokes that beautiful dick until he was about ready to nut. He mouthed at her through that sound proof glass,

“I want that throat.”

His muscles tensed, he squeezed it harder, and playfully rubbed it against the glass directly where her mouth was. She swore she could taste him, feel him sliding it between her lips and forcing his inches into her. Erik stroked it so hard that she could see the moisture forming on his tip. Damara couldn’t help herself, she had to reach between her thighs and stroke her pussy to match his tempo. Damara pulled her suit down, revealing her drenched sports bra and panties to him. She didn’t want to waste any time the way her fingers made its way to her panties, pulling the fabric to the side to reveal her wet sticky treat. The more he stroked himself, the deeper her fingers slide into her valley; all three of them. When Erik dropped to the floor, she scrambled to see what he was going to do next. It was fucking outrageous! That pretty ass nigga got on his back and moved his hips up and down like a bitch was on top of him. Damara screamed in ecstasy over the sight of it. Her fingers went deeper and deeper like she was trying to scoop her cum out the pussy. She turned around and arched her back, rubbing at her clit with one hand while fingering herself with the other. He pumped hard and long, perspiration dripping from him, muscles tensing. Damara just knew he was going to explode on the floor instead of her which was a damn shame. No. No fucking way. He turned over on his stomach, and did push-ups, pumping those hips and dick into oblivion. He still hadn’t cum for her yet. His arm shook when he did his one-handed push-ups, dick throbbing in his other hand. She felt her orgasm building deep in her belly, her legs shaking from muscle strain and intense pleasure. That was the grand finale, watching him cream into his own hands while staring her down.

Damara screamed out, Cumming on her fingers with a shake of her body.

——

He returned to his back and pressed out so much cum that she almost fainted from the orgasm he gave her. When her breathing returned to normal, Damara looked into her hand, now covered with so much of her own thick moisture that her fingers were sticking together. Then she glanced up at him watching her with a sweet smile on those wonderful lips—his erection was still in his hand and still harder than boulders.

The windows were nice and steamed by the time he and Damara finished. She watched him grab the rest of his belongings and headed for the showers. Damara took off as well, figuring that was all she’d get from him.

Damara made her way to the showers herself, letting her plan go. At least she got a good show from him so she was thankful.

While in the shower, Damara couldn’t help but smile as she wet her body under the steamy water. She struggled to fight the urge that this was it and probably her last sex show a man would ever give her and he didn’t even touch her. Damara allowed the warm water to trickle down her aching joints and relaxed. Her body mitt delicately encircled her breasts, pretending the sultry touch was Erik’s fingers, sucking on them gently before making a tongue track down to her core. She shuddered in waves of heat. Her body trembled, spasms, taking her mind off the pain from her injured shoulder. She completely gave in to pleasure and let the most tremendous orgasm hit her like no other one had ever before...well, until Erik happened on the scene.

Then.

“Damn, girl.”

The words came from nowhere. Damara assumed they had been in her mind. Nonetheless, her eyes opened and she twirled around to see if anyone had come in. There Erik was, standing directly in front of her. Damara tried reaching for her towel but Erik snatched it from the railing before she could get it.

His cool, seductive voice melted into her horny spirit.

“Imagine how big this dick would be if I would have been standing right above that ass, watching you finger that pussy from the front. All I could see was that phat ass shaking and quivering to some sexual fantasy. Was it about me?”

Damara couldn’t speak. All she could do was look down at the towel around his midsection, sporting a killer of an erection. Her mouth opened, her voice cracked.

“I...I, uh…”

“It’s okay, babygirl. I already know that ass was thinking about me. How could you not after the show I gave you.”

Erik moves toward her, one step away from entering the stall with her.

“You liked that show I already know that shit. I already know I got you”— he slapped her pussy, then reached around to palm her ass roughly, smacking each ass cheek causing it to sting—“hot enough to want more, right? You should anyway since I gave you a little taste of what the fuck I got,” he pulled his towel off and entered the stall.

It was different from having that window in between them both, Damara covering her nakedness with her arms. Erik pulled them down.

“Don’t you dare cover up a fucking thing.”

The grip on her wrists were so tight her hands shook.

“So, you just walk in women’s locker rooms? What if I wasn’t the only one here?”

He chuckles, letting her wrists go, “And? I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s okay for me to do whatever I fucking please in here.” He kisses her cheek. “I’m Erik—“

“I know who you are, Erik. Every woman within a five-city radius knows who you are.”

“Yeah? And who might you be?”

“Damara; nothing exotic, nothing romantic, just regular old Damara.”

“Not from where I’m standing, girl. You are so fucking sexy. I bet you taste good too, I know that pussy enjoyed me pleasing you.”

“It did, I can still feel it.” She lets out a moan.

“Well then that pussy won’t mind if I please you again?”

Damara relaxed, his hands covering her breasts, much the same way they did in her daydream. He stroked the tight tips with his thumbs, then replaced them with his lips. She was right, that mouth was made to suck on some titties. Erik sucked them ferociously, licking them like they were candy. Her head reared back as he sucked like he was trying to milk her. Her back arched off that wall, his arm circling her waist and pulling her close.

“So, you want everything, huh?”

“Every single drop.”

Erik’s muscles tightened around Damara; their bodies pressed against the wall. As the water continues to drench them, he lifted her into his arms; her legs hugged his hips. She felt the tip of that delicious dick play with her opening, tease it, rub up and down on it. She faces him, staring into those delicious brown eyes of his.

“It’s almost closing time, I couldn’t leave yet without a little taste.”

It definitely wouldn’t be a little with how big he was. Damara prepares herself for the surprise, her pussy clenching and quivering on its own. Erik takes his fingers to caress her clit, taking a single finger to tease it with a flickering motion. Damara kept a firm grip on his neck, pressed against the shower wall.

“I’m playing wit that clit good, huh?”

She responds with a bite to his shoulder, her pussy jerking in his hand. Erik brings his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, then brings them back to her clit. He was very generous with his spit, making her pussy extra sloppy. Clearly with him still going at it on her clit he aimed to make her cum this time with his own fingers.

“Ok, you working my clit,” she felt him take his dick to finish it off, rubbing her clit in circles. The smoothness of the tip of his dick hit every sensitive spot on her clit.

“Make that pussy cum,” she edged him on.

His hand came down to grip her ass while he worked, her body shuddering, legs securing around him even harder, moans echoing off of the shower walls.

“Shit, fuck, damn…”

She could feel the sensitivity in her pussy too.

“Open up for me.”

Damara opened wider, Erik bringing his dick to her pussy. He pushed his way in slow, only by a few inches before she clamped up. Her guess was correct, he was too much to take. Damara was scared now, she didn’t know if she could go through with it.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” her eyes grew wide.

“Ha, You knew that already when you saw me jerking it.”

“I’m too tight.”

“So?” He moves his hips, teasing her walls to let him in further. Her body crunched, hand to his chest. Was she fucking a monster dick or what? His shit was too damn much.

“Chill,” her eyelids fluttered. She wouldn’t be able to stand.

“You’ve been eyeing me all fucking week, teasing me and shit and now you wanna cry about how big my dick is?”

He kissed at her neck, causing her to moan and rub her wet face against his. She brought her hands to his biceps, squeezing them tightly.

“Be gentle, okay? It’s too damn big.”

Erik takes that invitation, gripping her hips firm before pressing himself in inch by inch, pausing in between. Each time he entered her it felt like he was ripping her a new hole, but it felt so full in a good way. Along with the pain came a shock of pleasure. The vein on the underside of his shaft rubbed smoothly at the floor of her pussy, a new sensation she had never felt. It curves at the tip to hit her g spot, swiping it each time he moves his hips.

“I don’t think I ever had a dick this good,” she hissed the moment he fully entered her.

“I already know you didn’t with all that crying you was doing.” He pulled out to the tip, purposely, to make her feel every inch again. Erik pushes back in, watching the way her face went through a series of confused and unprepared emotions. It was time to pick up the pace now. Erik started off slow, his strokes growing and her moans. Damara held onto the rails along the walls of the shower, watching with astonishment how Erik’s dick fucked her.

“Oh, oh, omg,” she shook tremendously, a single hand clawing at Erik’s chest. He simply fucks her with deeper strokes, reminding her what came with every inch. Clearly he had a fetish for making women cry from how big he was. That rock hard body came with a huge package.

“Are you fucking kidding me!!!!!” She felt a rush of pressure forming in her lower belly, so big it pushes Erik’s dick out, a fountain of liquid pouring. The more she clenched, the more it flowed. Damara couldn’t control it and it shocked her. No way, this nigga made her squirt and for the first time ever. She’d always tried to make that happen for herself but it never worked so she would give up.

That seemed to fuel Erik even more, he brought one of her legs up into a split, entering her body again. This time, he flexed his abs, bringing his dick into even more of a curve, really hitting her spot. Erik knew what he was doing, he wanted to see the reaction again.

“Come on, take this big dick,” he held her leg up even if it shook.

“Ah, fuck yes, shit it’s happening again!!” Before she could relax, here she was, squirting again but Erik stayed in. He smiled, slamming her so hard with his dick that she could feel it in her stomach. At this point, Damara might as well lose count of how many orgasms she’ll have.

———

It was true.

Damara has missed two days of the gym for a reason.

She couldn’t get out of the damn bed the morning after her and Erik had sex. Her pussy was sore and sensitive, inner thighs shaking when she stood from the bed. Damara didn’t bother exchanging numbers with him, unsure if she would even be able to take him up on a second chance. Deciding to be a big girl, Damara went to the gym for a dance session.

She stood in the mirrored dance studio wearing a leotard colored bronze, a pair of sweats on and her hair in a messy bun with her vans. She skimmed through her playlist on iTunes, adjusting her AirPods to her liking.

Damara had to squat ballerina style to stretch her thigh muscles, bringing her leg up to extend the muscles of her inner thigh. Rolling her neck, she turns from the mirror, deciding to dance to a Nicki song. Once she got in the groove with the tempo, she started her routine. Her body moved like magic. The mirror wasn’t her own audience anymore, Erik was standing at the door watching her closely. He didn’t make a move, his eyes following her skillful moves along with her dangerous body, I mean, Damara was thick. Even through her loose fitted sweats he could tell. Now that Erik got a good look at her, he recognized her from Instagram.

DeetheeDancer.

She was pretty popular on social media for her dancing. Erik watched a few of her videos from time to time, loving the way she moved. She had this way of letting you know she was sexy from the look she gave in the camera when it followed her body. It was as if she was daring you to touch her, let her throw it back on you and see if you can catch it.

——-

Damara finished off to her first song, bending over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She paused her music, picking up her water to take a long sip. After recapping it, Damara’s eyes sweep the area, landing on the door and seeing a familiar face waving at her.

It was him, the big dick nigga that had her on a two day hiatus. He looked to be arriving at the gym because he didn’t look worn out just fresh with a bomber jacket over top of his workout gear, beats over his ears and shades on.

“Mind if I come in?” He mouthed.

Damara caught her breath before smiling, motioning for him to enter. He finally stepped through, dropping the duffel bag that was on his shoulder.

“Why ain’t you tell me you were a dancer? You ain’t so average.”

“It’s kind of hard to do that when you were balls deep in me.” She mouthed tiredly.

“You talk hella bold but when I’m in there I have you running though.” He removed his shades, blessing her with his brown eyes.

“Mind if I watch? I got all day.” Erik removed his jacket.

“Fine with me,” Damara was okay with it, she had eyes on her with dancing almost all the time.

“She plugged her phone into the wall Bluetooth, settling on dancing to some pussy popping music from her freaky playlist. Yes, this was absolutely purposeful.

Right off the back, Megan Thee Stallion Freak Nasty began playing. She started off with a routine she already had to this song. She poses, hands rubbing down her frame before squatting down with a grip on her knees while swaying her hips. She did a turn, one hand in her hair with the other on her ass. Once the beat dropped, she got into the groove with a sexy hip hop routine that involved a lot of footwork and ass shaking. Her ass shook alright, like a goddamn tidal wave straight from the sea. She bounced in a circle, spreading her legs wide before landing into a perfect split that deserved tens across the board like she was a gymnast.

Erik was impressed, and so was the huge dick that jumped happily in his compression briefs. She was clearly giving it her all, impressing him. He could fuck her ass royally with his dick, congratulate her for the little talent show. She was on the floor again, doing a perfect side split, her eyes moving from the mirror and zeroing in on his erection. She must have known that he was turned on because her eyes didn’t move from his crotch the entire time she grind, bent her body over, and twerked her ass.

“You think that pussy can handle this dick today?”

She stops moving, hyperventilating before pausing her music.

“Nah, keep that playlist rolling, I want you to dance on this dick.”

She looked at him. He looked at her. She whispered, “okay, I admit it. You’ve got too much dick for me.”

“Girl,” He wasn’t trying to hear that.

“I’m serious, I need to be able to move not walk like a cripple.”

“It’s a gift,” he smiles wide.

Damara walks over to the mirrored wall, holding onto the bar before stretching her leg all the way up to her head.

“See, you preparing yourself already.”

Erik began to approach her, Damara bent over with her head between her legs, looking from behind. She could see Erik making his way to her, the feeling in her stomach making her nervous. Damara lifts back up, grabbing a towel to wipe her neck off. Here he was now, fully enveloped in her personal space with his hands on either side of the bar, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I mean, you really got that shit up there, huh?” He was referring to her leg.

She chuckles, “Chill out, monster.”

“Monster? Hm,” Erik turns Damara around, his eyes scanning her heaving chest, “Well, it is October.”

She smiles, licking her lips before looking at his, “You plan on scaring me again?”

Erik takes his thumb to stroke her chin, “I thought you were afraid of big, bad things?”

Damara swallows spit, eyes fluttering. She grabbed the bar on either side to brace herself.

“You ain’t know? This is my favorite time of the year.”

Damara places her hands on the back of Erik’s head, pulling him down to meet her lips. They kissed, Erik’s hand on her hips now, pulling her off and against him. The next song that played was dvsn- With me.

“C’ mon,” Erik kisses her again, their full lips in French kiss mode, “dance on me.”

Damara takes her time to work her hips into the slow beat, Erik easily matching her movements. She was impressed, turning now, dipping forward with her ass against his crotch, twirling her hips in a hypnotizing circle. Erik places one arm across her chest, his face buried in her hair, Damara turning to face him slightly while she moved her hips tantalizingly slow against him.

“Mm,” Erik looked her frame up and down.

Damara turns, on her knees, arching back before rolling her body forward, grabbing Erik’s legs as she began to rise while her hips moved from side to side. She went to her tip toes then, one leg cleanly rising to rest on his shoulder before she arched her back, jumping up for Erik to catch her. He does, twirling her around before slowing down as the song slowed, their eyes meeting.

“Wow,” she spoke breathlessly.

Before she could stop herself, Damara places her lips against his, Erik bringing her to the floor. Between frantic kisses, Erik undressed her, her naked sweaty body warm against his. She moans, arms around his neck. Erik takes his fingers, slipping inside to get a feel and taste.

“You taste just right,” He sucks slowly on his fingers before taking those same fingers to rub her nipples.

“Fuck,” Damara pushes Erik down to the floor, her hands moving quickly to undress him. She needed him no matter how big he was. The sight of him again almost knocked her out. Damara grabs his dick, licking her lips before sinking her mouth over him. Erik instantly palmed the back of her head, biting his lip and saying how much of a good girl she was.

Damara sucked like her life was at stake, spit covering her hands and chest. She couldn’t fit him all in her mouth but she did her absolute best. Erik pulls her mouth off, watching the string of spit connect with her lower lip.

“Climb up, Baby girl.” Erik motions for Damara to come to him, Her legs straddling him on either side before her arms grabbed his shoulders tightly. She tried to prepare herself but the moment Erik slipped inside again she squeezed his biceps with her nails. Erik hisses, taking his hands to grab at her waist to keep her still. He started fucking up into her at an even pace, the pressure within her too much. She could feel the shit in her spine. Damara looked back at it, eyes closing in sweet pleasure before looking down at Erik’s smiling face.

“God, please keep fucking me.”

Erik grabs her ass, anchoring his hips before picking up the pace. The scream from her was so loud it bounced off the walls.

“These walls ain’t sound proof, Baby girl.”

She couldn’t move or control her cries. Erik was deep within her guts. Damara begged for Erik to keep going over and over, a series of please and I need more escaping her mouth.

“You gonna squirt on me like that again?” He bit his lip, raising his brows in a rude manner to initiate a response from her, “I said is that what you’re gonna do?!”

“Yes!!!!!”

Damara snapped, squirting like he asked. Erik slaps both her ass cheeks for that.

“Good girl, I know you got more for me.”

“Yes, Erik.”

She froze, mouth suspended open before cumming again. Within seconds?

“FUCKkkkkk.”

“Mhm,” he fucked up into her at the same killer pace, “mhm...mhm.”

“STOP!” She cries out, the urge to cum right there.

“Stop it, I’m gonna cum again!”

“Girl, shut up and cum.”

Erik was close himself.

“Shut that crying up and cum on this dick.”

She went silent, body trembling before cumming for a third time.

“Oh my God,” she cries.

“You gonna let me cum in that mouth, Baby girl?”

Erik bounced Damara a few more times before slipping her off, standing to his feet quickly while she stayed on her knees. Damara opened wide, waiting for his treat. He jerked his big dick, grunts deep and eyes low and dangerous. After three pumps the cream spilled, Damara’s tongue ready. He tasted so damn good.

“All of it, I’m not playing with you.”

She grabs his dick, licking and sucking all of it off.

“Good girl,” he puckered his lips down at her, mouthing a kiss. She almost fainted.

“You gonna have them thirsty bitches mad”

Damara didn’t care.

#killmonger smut #killmonger #black panther killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit writes #killmonger x oc

355 notes · View notes

teaplease1717 · 3 years

Text

Story: Ashes of Love and War

Chapter: 17 / ?

Couple: Todoroki Shouto / Yaoyorozu Momo (TodoMomo)

Rating: M (for language and violence)

Betas: @flourchildwrites (Link) & C’s Melody (Link)

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638800/chapters/83711191

Thank you everyone who follows and supports!

XXXXXX

Momo opened her eyes to the roar of a raging inferno. Suffocating heat surrounded her, stinging her nose and throat.

Coughing, she covered her mouth and stepped back. Smoke filled the air. Ash and cinders swirled around her like scarlet fireflies, flickering brightly.

Momo squinted through the fumes. The houses lining the street were ablaze. Crackling, bright red flames licked off of their wooden roofs, painting the moonless night sky a deep crimson.

Despite the searing heat, Momo felt a cold shiver pass through her.

Where was she?

She straightened and looked around, but the street was deserted. There were no signs of any of the inhabitants.

She was alone.

Her chest tightened. Momo swallowed thickly and wracked her mind, but she couldn’t recall what had happened or how she had come to be there. It was as though she had drunk from the river Lethe and lost all her memories.

Behind her, there was a sudden groan. It began as a creek caught in the wind which crescendoed into a roaring cavalcade of wooden embers as the roof of the nearest building collapsed.

Momo shrunk back as searing heat and sparks sprayed out, stinging her skin. Her heart stuttered. She couldn’t stay there. It wasn’t safe. She needed to get away.

Turning, Momo fled down the street, hoping the path she followed would lead her to safety.

The thick cloud of smoke grew denser as fumes billowed out of the doors and windows of the houses she passed. Her chest rattled as smoke tainted her lungs and stung her eyes.

There was something about the burning city that felt horribly familiar. Momo felt she should know why — but she couldn’t remember that either. Every time she reached for the memory, it was as if haze shrouded her mind.

Unease curled in Momo’s chest. She pushed herself harder, willing her legs to move faster in search of shelter from the suffocating heat. She needed to find a safe place to rest, collect her thoughts, and figure out what was happening.

Momo continued down the empty streets and back alleys. The city was eerily quiet; aside from the crackle of burning wood and flames, there were no voices of panic. No sounds of frightened animals or crying children. It was as if Momo was the last person in the city.

“Hello...Is anyone there?” Momo called out, her voice rough from the smoke.

There was no answer.

Anxiety crawled through Momo as though tiny spiders were scurrying across her skin. It was as though the citizens had simply vanished, whisked away by the gods, leaving Momo behind.

Alone.

Her heartbeat quickened. Why had she been left behind? Had she done something wrong?

She didn’t want to be alone.

Momo stopped in the middle of the street. Biting her lip, she swallowed back a choked whimper and dropped her head. Covering her face, Momo squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the dark thoughts of worry seeping through her consciousness.

She needed to get control of herself. Now wasn’t the time to be panicking.

Momo took a steadying breath. The sting of the smoke burned her lungs, lessening the anxiety coursing through her, somewhat.

If she calmed down and thought about the situation logically, nothing made sense. No god — even Zeus — was powerful enough to whisk an entire population away. Which meant that there must be a reasonable explanation as to why no one was around. And, even if everyone had decided to leave of their own will, she wouldn't have been left behind. Tokoyami wouldn't have left her behind...

Tokoyami!

Momo jerked her head up, throat tightening. Where was Tokoyami? What if he'd been hurt and needed –

Her thoughts broke off.

She was no longer standing in the middle of a deserted street.

The world had morphed.

A grand plaza lay before her. At the other end, a large limestone temple burned brightly. Even as flames danced off of the roof, the structure was impressive. Its scorched pillars, once white, stood as tall as eight grown men standing on top of one another’s shoulders. At the top pediment, gods and heroes had been sculpted into great scenes of battle.

The hair on the back of Momo’s neck stood on end as it dawned on her where she was. This was the temple of Apollo.

She was back in Troy.

Momo curled her hands into fists at her side. She must be going insane. How was it that she was back here? The city had been destroyed by the Greeks. Momo had seen it burned and plundered herself, so what was she doing back?

Her breath caught in her throat. Momo clamped a hand over her mouth as suddenly the memories spilled back through her mind like a ferocious wave.

Overhaul.

Phobias.

The God of Nightmares.

Momo swayed on her feet as realization struck her. This must be a dream. The God of Nightmares had cast some sort of magic to trap her and keep her docile so that she couldn’t cause trouble as he lured Todoroki into battle.

Todoroki...

Momo swallowed thickly and dropped her hand to curl over her chest at the last memory she had of the Spartan. His startling heterochromatic gray and blue eyes had been wide and terrified, promising he’d come for her.

‘This is all your fault.’ A sickly sweet voice hissed.

Momo whipped around, raising her hand to strike.

But no one was behind her.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Momo dropped her hand and stepped back, scanning her surroundings.

The voice had been horribly familiar, like one of her sister priestesses who had subjected Momo to abuse back in Troy. But that couldn’t be possible; everyone was either dead or captured. There was no way any of the priestesses could be here, in this dream.

Momo licked her lips, and she forced herself to straighten. The voice must be a side effect of Overhaul’s power, something to distract and control her from interfering with his objective.

She drew in a steadying breath. In truth, even though Todoroki had promised to come for her, Momo knew it would be difficult for him. The large stymphalian who had attacked earlier were the Teppodama Hassaishu, the alphas of the stymphalian. And with the orphanage under attack and in need of assistance, they didn’t have time to wait.

It was up to her to find a way out by herself.

‘Conceited girl. What can someone like you do against a god?’ A rough voice sneered behind her.

Momo’s eyes widened, and she spun around.

But once again, there was no one there.

‘It’s because of you that everyone is in danger now. If you hadn’t let your guard down...’

Her body trembled. Momo grit her teeth to stop herself from quivering. She couldn't let these voices affect her. They weren't real. What she needed to focus on was breaking Overhaul's spell.

All magic, even the kind that was cast by a god, had certain conditions. If she could figure out the God of Nightmare’s weakness, she could escape.

Something moved near the entrance of the temple, drawing Momo’s attention from her thoughts and back across the square. She squinted through the smoke. And her insides chilled.

In front of the building, four darkened figures had appeared from the smoke. It was too dark to see their faces, but Momo knew them: her mother and father’s tall, delicate frames, Tokoyami’s raven head, and Kyouka Jirou’s cropped hair.

A sickening horror wrapped around her heart, squeezing until Momo could barely breathe. She knew what this illusion was now. This was her dream, the nightmare that had been haunting her since their arrival on the island.

Momo’s heartbeat raced loudly in her ears as she stared dizzily across the plaza at all the people she had considered important in her life. She had known Overhaul’s powers could draw from her memories, but this was too much.

Momo clenched her hands into fists until she could feel her nails sinking into the skin as Momo tried to control herself. This wasn’t real. Her parents were dead, and Jirou had been taken away. This was only a nightmare. She needed to ignore this scene and figure out how to break Overhaul’s spell. But she couldn’t tear her gaze from the dark shadows.

As Momo starred transfixed, the figures moved. Momo’s parents stepped forward towards the burning temple.

“No! Don’t go!” Momo shouted. Unconsciously she moved forward, and her foot caught on something. She fell, her knees scraping against the stone road.

Momo looked down at what she had tripped over, and her eyes widened in panic. A disjointed hand lay underneath her sandal.

Momo drew in a sharp breath. She jerked back. But the hand was alive. It reached out, and its bony fingers caught Momo’s chiton.

She screamed and kicked out.

The arm let go and dissolved back into the ground.

Momo scrambled to her feet. But there was nowhere to go; the plaza was suddenly filled with the dead. They had risen out of the shadows and lay sprawled in distorted poses; their faces were frozen in horror and pain as if they were victims of Medusa’s curse.

For a moment, the corpses lay where they had appeared. Then their bodies twitched, and they lunged across the ground towards her.

Momo gasped in terror. She stumbled back. A decomposing corpse reached for her, and she kicked it away.

"I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming!"

Momo pushed another dead body away. Her heart was beating so hard; it felt as though it were being bruised inside her chest. This was all a distraction. She needed to wake up. There had to be a way to break Overhaul's spell.

Around her, the temperature dropped rapidly. Momo's body grew heavy as she fought to keep the dead from pulling at her, but it got harder and harder. There were too many. She couldn’t keep going on like this; she needed help.

Momo’s gaze darted up. Tokoyami and Jirou were standing in front of the temple, watching her struggle.

"Help! Please!"

She knew they weren’t real, but still a part of her desperately hoped they would respond. But Tokoyami and Jirou didn't answer, only continued to watch dispassionately as the dead closed in on her.

Fright beat in Momo’s chest. She was trapped. All alone.

‘No one is going to come for you.’ A voice like grinding stones hissed.

Momo looked down, and she choked. Her heart stalling as she met the lifeless eyes of the head priestess of Apollo’s temple.

Unbidden, Momo's mind was suddenly filled with memories of her life in Troy — beatings, loneliness, and cruelty. This woman had allowed that, even encouraged it.

The priestess smiled menacingly. Its lifeless face twisted in glee as if it knew what Momo was remembering. ‘Thinking yourself special? That you're better than everyone?’ the corpse asked, condescension heavy in its sickly tone.

Its hand shot out. Momo tried to move away. But the shock of seeing the head priestess made her slow. The priestess laced its fingers around Momo’s wrist.

Momo gasped. Its touch was ice cold. The priestess’ fingers tightened around Momo’s skin and pulled her forward. The world tipped, and suddenly a sharp pain ran up Momo’s arm.

For a moment, the dead disappeared, and Momo could breathe. She was on a hard, cold surface. She shivered, blinking dizzily. Bright light broke through the darkness clinging to Momo’s consciousness.

Through blurry vision, Momo could make out an endless white before she was swallowed back in intense blackness; hands of the dead clawed at her.

‘Where are you going?’ The stagnant breath of the head priestess brushed against her ear.

Momo’s stomach dropped, and she choked as the cold breath ghosted against her ear. She twisted and shoved the dead away, stumbling backwards. Water splashed around her sandals. Momo's eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze shot down, and her insides twisted.

The plaza was filling up with dark murky liquid. It seemed to be seeping up from the ground at a rapid pace. If it filled up any more, Momo would find it difficult to keep fighting. She drew short, rapid breaths as she tried to keep the panic from overwhelming her.

This couldn’t be the end. She had to keep fighting. Todoroki. Tokoyami. Someone would come for her! Right?

‘Who'd come for a failed priestess like you? No one wants you. That's why you have no family or friends.’

Icy fingers slid through Momo's hair and yanked her backwards. Momo fell.

As she hit the lake, a wave of intense sorrow engulfed her, flooding into every corner of her mind. It reminded Momo of every painful action, every hurtful word from her past. She fought to stand, but the water and the dead were heavy. They weighed on her, pulling her down. The darkness urged her to give up, to cease resisting.

“No!” Momo broke free of the hands and scrambled to her feet. The dead clawed at her, trying to pull her back down.

The water had risen up to Momo's knees. In a few moments, it would be at her waist. She had to get out before then.

‘What are you even trying to do? All you do is cause others problems. Even now, all you are doing is weighing Todoroki down and preventing him from defending the orphanage.’

“That’s not true. It’s not my fault,” Momo denied, slapping a pair of withering hands away.

‘How arrogant. Why do you think Asui sent you away?’ — Momo’s breath caught — ‘She realized how useless you are. You couldn’t even save those pirates from drinking the poison.’

Guilt struck Momo, twisting sharply in her stomach.

The voices laughed.

Momo’s heart pounded. Her throat was tight as she forced out her next words. “It was an accident! Overhaul had the stymphalian poison the wine.”

‘Blaming others again?’ the voice crooned with sing-song intonation. ‘You’re so conceited. Always denying that it's your fault. That’s why no one likes you. That's why they all leave.’

“That’s not true…” Momo gasped.

She tried to ignore the bodiless voices, tried to focus on how to break the spell, but she couldn't. Their words tore at her. And no matter how many times Momo told herself not to listen — that this wasn't real — part of her couldn't help but acknowledge that they were right.

She was a failure. She was arrogant to think anyone would ever want to stay with her. Everyone eventually left her. Her parents had abandoned her at the temple. Kyouka had promised to always be with her but had vanished.

‘You should have run when I told you to,’ Momo’s breath froze in her lungs at the deep, familiar voice. ‘You never listen, Yaoyorozu. You always think you’re in the right. That’s why I can’t stand you. That’s why I wanted to get rid of you. Now that I have Asui and Aizawa, I don’t need you anymore.’

It felt like a knife had pierced Momo’s chest. A strangled sob tore from her throat, and her knees buckled underneath her.

‘Do you really think anyone cares about you enough to come for you? What about that Spartan you kept clinging to against my advice? Do you think he cares enough about his slave to save her?’ Tokoyami asked angrily.

Momo gasped as Tokoyami’s words echoed painfully in her chest. He was right. Oh, why hadn’t she listened? No one wanted her. In the end, whether it was Tokoyami or Todoroki, everyone was the same. She was just a burden. Why was she even trying to resist?

She couldn’t remember. She was so, so very tired.

‘See - ‘ The voices whispered around her, ‘You know it yourself. No one is coming for you. You’re a bitch that has no friends.’

A chorus of women’s voices started up, laughing and giggling in the darkness. ‘Bitch has no friends. Bitch has no friends. Bitch has no friends.’

Momo felt her face grow wet as the voices grew louder. That's right. No one needed her. Momo would always be alone. Why even wish for a different life? She’d only be disappointed.

She closed her eyes. Momo’s body grew heavy. Her chest felt hollow. All she wanted was to let go and sink into the darkness.

Momo lost her footing and fell onto her knees. The darkness lapped at her waist. The fingers of the dead turned to tender caresses as she stopped fighting, welcoming her into the inky depths of the lake.

No guilt or fear of failure could touch her now. There was only frigid numbness that beckoned, wanting to silence the struggle within her. She was so cold. So very cold.

Momo wrapped her arms around her stomach and -

A sharp pain pulsed across her hand; the world shifted.

The black lake Momo knelt in abruptly vanished, and she found herself laying on a frigid surface.

She gasped, shivering. And for a moment, it was as if all the horrible thoughts of despair and agony brought on by Overhaul’s magic dissolved. Momo could breathe again. Then her vision fluctuated. The light around her elongated, and darkness began to spread across her gaze again.

Momo drew in a ragged, desperate breath, fighting to stay conscious. It felt as if she were struggling in an intense rip current. The waves of Overhaul’s spell tugged at her, trying to pull her back into the deep depths of despair.

Momo choked back a sob. She couldn't give in. Not now. Not again. Momo didn't know if she'd be able to break the magic a second time.

She tightened her hands around her stomach, and the stinging pain from earlier cut back through the spell.

Momo inhaled a sharp breath as her head cleared. That was it. Whatever it was in her hand was the trigger to defeating the spell.

Gritting her teeth, Momo slowly angled her head. The boat had tipped over, and she was lying on ice. Around her, the ocean had become a frozen tundra, stretching out and disappearing into dense fog that sat low on the horizon. In the back of Momo’s mind, she noted the peculiarity of ice in the middle of the ocean but didn’t have time to analyze it.

Breathing through clenched teeth, Momo looked down and found that her right hand was bleeding. Red rivulets trailed down her wrist from her palm, staining the ice and her chiton crimson.

In her hand was the medical knife she had taken from Eri’s bedside. It had lodged free from her chiton during her dream, and she had grabbed the sharp edge.

It was what had saved her.

‘Save you from what? There’s no escape.’

Momo’s vision began to dim again. A fresh wave of sorrow and despair washed over her. She clenched her jaw as emotions — suffering and sadness — caught at her, trying to drag Momo back into the murky depths of Overhaul’s spell.

No!

Momo pushed her hand harder against the edge of the blade. A burning pain scorched her palm. Momo inhaled sharply through her nose.

Think. Think! There had to be a way to break Overhaul’s spell without harming herself.

In front of her, there was a flickering of red and white ghosting in and out of the luminescent tundra, and Momo thought she heard the sound of swords clashing. She angled her head and gazed into the mist.

For a moment, she couldn’t see anything. Then there was movement through the steam, and Momo could make out a black bird mask before it disappeared back into the fog.

Overhaul.

Momo trembled. He was fighting against someone, but it was too much for her mind to focus on who it was. All she knew was that she was running out of time. If she wanted to break his spell and not be a burden anymore, then defeating Overhaul was the surest way.

‘What do you think someone like you can even do?' A voice whispered in her mind. 'A pathetic creature like you can't hope to defeat a god.'

Momo swallowed and clenched her eyes shut. She had to ignore the doubt and trust herself. It was Overhaul's power making her feel weak and pathetic. She was stronger than this.

Slowly, Momo opened her eyes and pulled herself onto her hands and knees, keeping the dagger in hand. Her left shoulder twinged painfully at the movement. She hissed through clenched teeth but forced herself to stand. The motion caused Momo’s stomach to roil, and her vision turned splotchy.

‘Yaoyorozu, do you really think you'll get away with attacking a god?’ Tokoyami’s voice warned dangerously low and urgent. ‘There are always consequences. You'll be cursed to forever be alone.’

A metallic taste filled her mouth. The voice faded and Momo realized she had bitten the inside of her cheek as her vision came back into focus.

She swallowed slowly. She couldn’t lose focus. She couldn’t let Overhaul win. There was no point in fearing abandonment if there was no one left.

For a few breaths, Momo focused on steadying herself. When she felt in control, she looked up into the mist. Overhaul danced within the fog; his lithe, shadowed figure blurred in and out of focus as he beat back someone else. At some points, it even appeared they were clashing in the sky.

Momo breathed slowly. The mist didn’t appear to be her imagination. Neither figure had acknowledged her, which meant she may be as blurred to them as they were to her.

Her legs shook under her, but she forced herself forward. It was like swimming through mud. Every movement was exhausting. Ghosts and visions of her past flickered before her gaze, grabbing at her, trying to pull her back into darkness. At moments, Momo couldn't distinguish reality from Overhaul's magic. But Momo pushed herself forward regardless, hoping she was discreet enough for the figures fighting in the mist to not notice her.

‘If you go that way, you’ll be all alone, forever...is that what you want?’ the head priestess’ voice whispered.

Momo gulped. It felt like a stone had been lodged in her throat. Her hands trembled. Blood dripped down her palms, making the dagger slippery. She tightened her grip around the hilt and focused on the feel of the wood in her hands to tether herself to reality as a wave of suffocating loneliness washed over.

Momo stumbled. She ground her teeth, bracing herself. She had to do this. Even if she lost Tokoyami's friendship or Todoroki's favor, they needed to defeat Overhaul. She couldn't allow herself to be a burden anymore. She had to do whatever it took to win.

She breathed slow, shallow breaths trying to ignore the voices echoing around her as they persuaded her to turn back.

The figures were locked in battle in front of her. Overhaul’s back to her.

Momo steadied her hands and pushed herself forward. The world spun, and for a moment, Momo was staring not at Overhaul but at Tokoyami.

His yellow eyes were wide, and his expression was pained. It twisted with a sense of betrayal. ‘Yaoyorozu, are you really going to try and kill me?'

Momo’s lips thinned into a harsh line as she concentrated, inching closer.

‘You’ll be all alone, Yaoyorozu. You hate being alone. You won’t be able to handle it.’

Momo clenched her hands tighter around the hilt of the knife until her knuckles were white and met Tokoyami’s yellow eyes. 'I'll be the one to decide that. Not you.'

Suddenly, the care and worry faded from Tokoyami’s face, and his expression twisted in abject fury.

'Curse you, mortal.'

Momo gritted her teeth. "Then so be it. I won’t let you decide my fate.”

She raised her knife and lunged forward.

#todoroki shouto #yaoyoruzu momo #todomomo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #ashes of love and war #My writing #My Story

12 notes · View notes

applsauss · 3 years

Text

Nar Shaddaa

Description: Eager to leave this moment behind, for Rex’s sake, you knock your fist against his pauldron, then make your way out of the alley before he might start to think he owes you any explanation.

Fandom: Star Wars

 Pairing: CT-7567 (Rex)/Reader

Word Count: 4.3k+

Warning(s): Violence.

Worlds like Nar Shaddaa are hollowed out husks of planets, built of nothing but levels upon levels of durasteel and deprivation. Each floor is more crowded than the last and--the neon, the stench, the never-ending noise of civilization--it all presses against your temples to the point of a steady, blurry ache. What’s worse, however, is the uncomfortable emptiness that festers in the air, collects in the deadened streets, like Nar Shadda’s dead core hallows the miles of empty space beneath the maze of scaffolding and walkways.

The quarry ahead of you splashes through a deep puddle, the water violently disturbed by the chase, and you’re eager to follow her through the filth. The Corellian Sector, a den of criminal activity and a smuggler’s haven, blurs into nothing as you train your eyes on your quarry’s back, your thoughts overwhelmed with the need to sink your teeth into prey.

You grimace as the water splashes up your greaves--distantly you loathe the time you know it will take to clean Nar Shaddaa off your beskar once you’re back aboard the Beholder--but you keep pushing yourself full tilt, boots hitting the ferrocrete hard, Rex on your heels, his breath down your neck.

You round another sharp bend, your boots skidding out and your knuckles brushing against the ground as you catch your weight. The skies open up, fat droplets of rainwater begin hitting the ground by your feet, and the heavy sound barely registers over your ragged breath inside your helmet.

The skyscrapers rise up around you, Nar Shaddaa is a veritable concrete jungle you observe only through your peripherals, and it rains and rains and rains something awful--something greasy. The rainwater slicks the walkways and pours down your helmet like a brothy soup.

It is twilight, and yet the planet of Nal Hutta still glows a pale yellow-green above your head, claiming half the sky for its own. You catch sight of it in the black puddles at your feet until the chase leads you through them, and then the planet disappears in a series of violent ripples.

Ahead of you, a crowd gathered at the entrance of a nightclub begins to shove each other forward under the awning to get away from the rain. The quarry takes advantage of that confusion by pushing right through to the middle until your visor’s digital interface loses track of her.

You huff, then sprint into the crowd without pause, slaloming your way through the gaps between the patrons while Rex barrels through them behind you, shoving people aside by their shoulders. “I lost her!” you tell Rex, voice clipped when an elbow jams under your chestplate and into your exposed ribs.

The quarry probably changed shape again. You bite back the distaste, bitter in your mouth, as you reflect on how you loathe hunting clawdites in moments like these--their shape-shifting abilities coming around to bite you in the ass at the least opportune moments.

You keep on forward, placing blind trust on the tracking fob as your visor’s digital interface continues to unsuccessfully scan the crowded street for the quarry’s unique chain code.

“With the red hat--” Rex grunts as he bursts clear from the crowd, and suddenly his arm is in your field of vision as he points towards a humanoid. The figure turns and sprints down the nearest alley, in the direction of the skyslums. Your eyes meet hers briefly, and you recognise the fearful look of a cornered animal when you see one.

You take off after the red hat as it disappears into the darkness, your heart pounding in your ears and beskar on your tongue. The exertion touches on something you do not feel except for in the heat of battle. There is a certain amount of enjoyment you find in struggle, in that reminder that you are alive, because to fight is to be alive.

You pass by a vent and it stinks of Nar Shadda’s dead core. The smell fills your helmet and your curse yourself for ever coming back to this place despite your vow to never take another job here again. Rex had even agreed at the time, groused about the sludge on his boots and told you he’d rather be marooned on Jakku without water than have to clean the greasy rain off anything for a fourth time.

And yet here the two of you are, poking around Nar Shaddaa’s filth once more--after a clawdite, no less. Why Rex would ever accept this bounty puck is beyond you. You make a mental note to give him shit for it when you get the chance.

The chase leads you deeper into the Corellian Sector. You follow the trail of the clawdite’s cloak for two more alleys, and after clipping the corner of a dumpster with your tasset, Rex overtakes you. The puddles are deeper in the alleys, where the rainwater pools on the uneven ferrocrete, and are non-existent where the solid ground below you disappears until you’re left running across slick, rackety grates spanning massive pits.

Your lungs burn with your ragged breaths, and Rex seems to be reaching the limit of his tolerance. He unclasps one of his blasters from where it was secured at his thigh, and you follow suit, pulling out your disruptor pistol and gripping it tight.

“You’re faster than me. Flank and I’ll chase her ‘round towards you,” Rex suggests. He points towards an alley off to your right, and without responding, you slide to a stop on the wet ground, boots slipping across the gritty ferrocrete, then take off down the alley Rex had gestured to, his judgement unquestioned.

Unable to help yourself, you throw one last, careless, look over your shoulder toward your partner and watch as he sprints past without pause, breath steaming from out the sides of his respirator, the glow of the neon from an errant street sign silhouetting his tall frame.

It is…something else. You blink and that vision is gone, replaced by the dark alley in front of you as you leap over the legs of something dead and kick a spice container so it skids across the ground and collides with the wall.

You can taste your heart in your mouth, your lungs are cranking air in and out like a machine, and your muscles are screaming with savage energy. You feel the power of your body all bunched up as you single-mindedly pursue your quarry-and it is only the only thought in your mind except for those of Rex.

You shake your head to rid yourself of that nagging notion when your comlink pips, the light flashing in your peripherals. Rex’s gravelly voice pours through. “Quarry’s headed your way, towards Hutta Town.”

“Roger, roger,” you whisper under your breath, a dog grin working its way onto your lips, carried away once more by the thrill of the hunt. There is something in your head that craves this, the only crop sowed, watered, and growed by Mandalorians.

You glance down at the map projected from your vambrace, then turn on your heel so you’re headed towards Hutta Town. The sudden change of direction has you slipping across the oil-slick ground and slamming into the wall of a building, your disruptor pistol clicking and scraping across the rough material. You push yourself off, then take off down the intersection, racing the quarry to Hutta Town and trusting that she and Rex are somewhere behind you, out of sight, unknowing.

When you see the beginnings of Hutta Town proper, you duck down behind the nearest dumpster, your disruptor pistol clutched to your chest, the muzzle reaching just past the edges of your visor. You ping Rex with your location.

Your helmet is illuminated with technicolor neon and the pale glow of Nal Hutta from above, the planet like the sickly yellow disk of a searchlight fixed above your head.

You can hear the comings and goings of Hutta Town from where you wait inside the alley, that den of criminal activity bustling with life at all times of the day and night and those stolen moments in between.

When you are hidden in the shadows, in that safe in between, there is almost something peaceful about it--but then you remember the Hutts and that peace falls through your fingers like the roving sands of Tatooine.

The Hutts won’t take kindly to a disturbance from an outsider, let alone someone covered head to toe in precious beskar. No...best to finish this job now. Quickly. Quietly. Without struggle or drawing attention to yourselves.

The rain continues to hit your helmet and pauldrons, that slick, sickening sludge beginning to seep through the thick material of your flightsuit. Your breath is loud in the cage of your helmet, barely fogging the bottom of your T-visor thanks to its careful anti-fog treatment, and Nar Shaddaa’s rotten-egg stench begins to work its way through your air filters.

Regardless of the discomfort, you stay crouched, ready to leap from cover, disruptor pistol in tow, to catch the quarry in your deadly sights. You don’t need a scope to be accurate, even at a distance--though it doesn’t matter much because most quarries freeze at the sight of your pistol--the threat of disintegration worse than any jail-time they might face otherwise. There is a reason the Empire banned the weapon, and there is a reason Mandalorians are known to carry them.

You feel yourself begin to relax in the lull of the wait, and so you train your breathing to be fast and shallow, forcing yourself to remain alert. The rain blurs your vision through your visor, and you reach up to drag the fabric of your tunic over the transparisteel, but it only blurs your vision farther, the greasy rain sticking and streaking across your beskar. After what feels like a lifetime, you hear distant shouting.

“It’s useless to run!” Rex’s voice bounces down the alley, rising over the quiet hum of activity in this section of Nar Shadda. He is panting heavily. “We’ve got your tracking fob. You have nowhere...to go where we...won’t find you!”

You feel adrenaline surge through you once again, your heart racing, your ears straining for any sign your helmet’s audio filters might pick up, for the right moment to leap from your hiding spot. Time slows, you swear you can see the rain falling pause midair--and then you hear uneven, panicked footsteps slapping on oil-slick ferrocrete just behind you.

Without restraint or hesitation, you leap up and spin around, disruptor pistol loaded and held out in front of you as the target continues to barrel forward without thought, gaze thrown back over her shoulder, terrified of Rex.

When the quarry finally sees you, she tries to stop herself but ends up skidding across a puddle and landing hard on her back. “Oh, kriff!” The clawdite cries out as her feet kick uselessly across the slick ground. Her disguise falls away to her original form, almost reptilian in nature, and the glow of her yellow eyes is pitiful as she opens and closes her mouth, unable to react to your sudden appearance.

You stalk forward, pistol trained on the quarry. She raises her hands up, submissive, eyes glazed over in fear. Her forked tongue peaks out to wet her lips before she seals her mouth shut and gulps.

You watch her from behind your disruptor pistol, the charged, yellow glow of the bolt in the chamber making the rain reflect the light around you. The neon from Hutta Town is at your back, casting your dark shadow over the clawdite.

“P-p-please!” she begs, and you wonder if she’s crying. You can’t tell because of the dark and the rain. Her hair is plastered to her forehead and her clothes hang off her bones, heavy and slick. Her kind was never meant for this climate.

You clench your teeth and rock back onto your heels, the comedown from an adrenaline high always difficult. Your breathing deepens as you focus on calming yourself. She’s not much of a threat anymore, cornered and caught...pathetic, even, though you suspect it’s an act. You don’t have much sympathy for a bail-jumper wanted on multiple charges of extortion, armed robbery and first-degree murder.

You hear Rex rapidly approaching, and so does the quarry, who grows more twitchy and bothered as she can’t seem to decide who she’s more terrified of, Rex’s intimidating size, or the silhouette of armor that could only belong to a Mandalorian. Her eyes dart frantically from the disruptor pistol, to your beskar face, to her peripherals as she desperately searches for an opening that does not exist.

With Rex now close enough to grab her if she decides to bolt, you reach behind your back for your magnacuffs, and the clawdite reels back at the movement, her eyes drawing to the size of dinner plates.

“I-I swear! I swear I don’t know anything about the Vigilance!” she squeaks, blinking up at you through the now-torrential downpour. The wet seeps through your flightsuit and drips down your back, tacky and cold. “I didn’t even--I sold the data and I never even looked at it!”

You pause, tilting your head to the side, and lower your disruptor pistol a millimeter to get an unimpeded look at her face. “What Vigilance?”

In your peripherals, the movement of Rex’s feet shuffling back catches your attention, and something heavy settles in your gut when you glance up only to find him staring at the clawdite as if she’s just stuck a vibroblade between his ribs. Above the edge of his respirator, his eyes are wide, the whites shining in the light with something like muddied fear.

His expression makes your stomach twist. It doesn’t look right on his face. A fierce protectiveness balls in your chest, and with it you narrow your eyes and raise your disruptor pistol again, glaring down the barrel at the quarry.

“What do you know about the Vigilance?” you demand, despite having no clue what she’s talking about.

“Nothing!”

“No,” you spit out harshly, taking a step toward the clawdite. You discreetly peek up at Rex to gage his expression, then continue when you find it chilled and unchanged. Your voice drips with a dark threat. “You’re lying.”

The clawdite looks as if she’s going to remain silent, so you raise your hackles and square your shoulders to appear bigger, your shadow falling farther across her, engulfing her. She balls her knees up and panics. “It’s a--a Venator-class Star Destroyer! A Jedi Cruiser!”

You remind her of your disruptor pistol by waving it in her face. “And?”

“I-It’s in the Taris system! That’s all I know! It crashed on one of the moons, there’s a mass grave outside it and it had a jedi on it--that’s why the Empire wants to know where it’s at so bad!”

Your act drops at the mention of the Empire, gone and replaced with true malice. “Why would the Empire be after a downed Destroyer--”

“A jedi?” Rex chokes out.

His sudden interjection has you jerking your chin up to check his expression, worry flooding your thoughts at the sound of his broken voice--smaller than you’ve ever heard it before. The distraction proves to be a mistake, however.

There is the sound of something scraping across the ferrocrete, and you look back down just as the quarry throws her leg up to kick your disruptor pistol away. You instinctively squeeze the trigger, your reaction time faster than your thoughts, but it’s too late. The yellow disruptor bolt fizzles on the wall of the building two stories above your head, and you only have half a second to thank the Maker it didn’t hit Rex.

The clawdite seizes forward, the dull hum of a vibroblade registering in your ears, and then it’s over. The quarry gasps, then crumples onto the floor at your feet, revealing Rex standing behind her, the barrel of his blaster still smoking.

With the danger past, you click your tongue and kick the vibroblade away as Rex slips his blaster back into its holster and kneels over the quarry, who is clutching at the singed edges of the hole in her side. He injects the sleep agent into the clawdite’s neck, then begins searching her pockets.

The rain continues to fall. It covers everything in a filth unlike any other, creating deposits where the gutters spill over, greasy stalagmites growing on the ferrocrete. You squint at the street at the end of the alley, but the rain blurs the lights, making them fuzzy apparitions that flicker when people pass in front.

Your thoughts turn to Rex, as they tend to do the closer and longer you work with him. You know he is a man haunted by something. It is in the way he carries himself, a man hollowed out, unsure of how he’s supposed to put one foot in front of the other. He has the same caution a womp rat does after getting kicked in the face one too many times.

But you’ve never pressed him on his past and you’re not going to start now. He doesn’t question your silence, your creed, and he’s never once given you reason to doubt him. You’ve even...for the time you’ve known him, you’ve grown to consider him a friend.

You crane your neck up to try and find the scuff mark your disruptor bolt might have made on the building, but catch a glimpse of Nall Hutta instead. You bite back your dislike for the planet, and turn back to Rex as he appears at your side, the quarry slung over his shoulder.

He holds out a stack of credit chips for you to take, probably previously belonging to the quarry, and you pocket them, then ask pointlessly, “Is she alive?”

Rex catches your eyes with his for a moment, then glances away, something like guilt swimming in his expression. “Yeah.”

Eager to leave this moment behind, for Rex’s sake, you knock your fist against his pauldron, then make your way out of the alley before he might start to think he owes you any explanation.

***

You’re both sitting on stools under an awning at some hole-in-the-wall cantina as it continues to pour on Nar Shaddaa. Your quarry is slumped at your feet in the sludge, unconscious, with her hands cuffed behind her back. Her weight against your leg is reassurance of the payment you’ll receive once you turn her over to the guild.

Someone trudging past in a poncho lifts his head, eyes squinted as he glares at Rex, but you pull out your disruptor pistol and slap it on the tabletop before he can say anything. At the threat, the togruta dips his head down and continues past without comment.

You don’t know why some people so vehemently hate Rex, and you’ve never asked him about it except for in passing, more in an attempt to lighten the mood than anything else. At the time, he’d only shrugged, but after you suggested he wear a helmet or a mask if it becomes an issue for him, he went out and bought a respirator at the next port you docked in.

His respirator is now hanging around his neck, however, and he’s nursing some type of steaming drink. You didn’t pay much attention as he ordered it from the rusty droid tending the bar, instead watching the holonews playing on one of the viewscreens inside the cantina.

There was another terrorist attack in the outer rim--but not in Mandalorian space, so it doesn’t interest you much. Terrorists, separatists, rebels--they are all one in the same, and you care little about what causes they fight for.

The Republic was the Republic, the Empire is the Empire, and what comes next will be what comes next. It makes no difference what name an inefficient government uses because it will only ever be that.

No one has ever fought for Mandalore except for Mandalorians, and so you have little qualms abandoning the galaxy that first abandoned you.

The lamp above your head is out, and so light pours out of the cantina and over your table, technicolor and without order. You blink down at the transparisteel of the table, then look away, the colors sticking to the backs of your eyelids.

Rex is sitting in the shadow of all that light, his bleached hair shimmering like starlight, the same as the whites of his eyes. It is a struggle not to look at him, and so you give into that desire, your helmet tilted toward the street as you observe him from the corner of your eye.

Your heart is alive with worry for him, the same as your thoughts. You try to think of all the possible lives he could have led to bring him to this moment, but your mind draws a blank. You’ve only ever known him now.

The quarry’s words ring in your ears, but you quash whatever questions you might have before you can think them. You draw a greasy finger across the transparisteel tabletop, then look back across the street.

It is filthy, with trash piling up along the walls and near flooded with rainwater. The alleys are thrust into the harsh shadows of the night, and only a sliver of Nal Hutta’s yellow disk is still visible in the sky.

The downpour is still heavy, trapping you and Rex under the small awning until the deluge is finished with. And so you wait on this miserable trash heap of a moon, the wet stench of decay filling your helmet, the air filters beyond useless after so many hours.

It is miserable and cold and Rex looks particularly unapproachable now that he is six feet of sopping wet, sleep-deprived bounty hunter. The shadows on his face make him look dangerous, though you know enough to understand that that’s not all he is.

Another passerby eyes your bounty, Rex, or they’re wondering how much of a hassle it would be to try and peel your beskar off you. Rex shifts on his stool, however, and that movement has them skittering along the street without so much as a second glance.

Rex is a good deterrent. Usually, the T-shaped visor and concave cheeks of your helmet is enough to dissuade anyone from approaching you, but Rex is an added lethality that lifts the weight that rests over your shoulders just a bit.

The hyper-focused fog of paranoia clears just enough for you to let your eyes close, and you can pretend you’re somewhere else--maybe back on Concordia, with the smell of metal in the air and the rustling of the sparse foliage--Mandalore, a chalk-white disc in the sky, a reminder of the lengths to which war can drag a planet, a reminder of what you fight for.

Concordia is very much the Nar Shaddaa to Mandalore’s Nal Hutta, a lawless and wild moon--though there is something beautiful in Concordia, in its torn landscape, in the grass taking root anew, and in the trees, young and sickly, growing back after so many generations of ruin. It is wild because nature is savage, something to be revered and feared and revelled in.

Nar Shaddaa is lawless because it lacks morality. Truth, honor, and vision.

The rain slows to a stop, a couple fat droplets falling on the flooded street, and Rex tips back the last of his drink. People begin to poke their heads out of windows and doorways, cautiously making their way back out into the uncomfortably silent night as the rain dissipates, and a cold fog rolls across the ground, licking up at your knees.

Eyes watch you from the alleys, blinking owlishly in the darkness, and both you and Rex stand at once.

He secures his respirator, then hefts the quarry over his shoulder, and you follow just a step behind him, your disruptor pistol held at your side, a casual threat you won’t hesitate to make good on.

As you begin to make your way back to the Beholder, you feel that emptiness reverberate in the ferrocrete beneath your boots. It nags you once more, warns you of some perceived danger, and you balance on the edge of alertness, just above the raging sea of paranoia below.

Nar Shaddaa is hollow and empty of everything worthwhile, the meeting point of all types of depravity. Coruscant is the same. You won’t be able to relax until you’re safe in the cradle of hyperspace, headed away from this place for what you truly hope will be the last time.

Rex’s figure cuts through the fog in front of you, and your boots sink into the filth as you follow close behind, your kama trailing behind you. That smell again--the dead core of this shell of a moon, floods your mouth, and this time it tastes like the metal of your own blood.

Dread floods your body, this feeling unmatched by anything else--the emptiness of this world and all worlds like it sending you reeling, and the only thing that keeps you together is the beskar you’ve wrapped yourself in.

Your eyes refocus on the profile of Rex’s face as he checks on you over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours through your visor--they seem to find yours more easily the longer he sticks around--and you release the shuddering breath that’d built up in your throat.

You tilt your helmet away, but let your eyes linger on the sharp angles of his face until he turns back to the path ahead of him.

Something tugs you toward him by the heart. You grip your chestplate, fingers slipping across that Beskar Heart emblem embedded in its center, then you pull your slimy gloves away and bury the feeling, resolving to think harder on it once you’re no longer being followed by two trandoshans who think they’ll be lucky enough to steal your bounty from you.

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#captain rex #rex #rex x reader #captain rex x reader #sw #sw x reader #tcw #tcw x reader #captain rex imagine #sw imagine #tcw imagine

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lornashore · 4 years

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Pumpkin Carving

Summary: You spend the evening carving pumpkins with Abby

A/N: Corny I know, but it’s a cute idea I came up with! As most of my fics unless otherwise stated, I tried to keep this one as gender neutral as possible.

Abby stood in our shared room, hands on her hips as she took in the sight of me carrying two large, heavy pumpkins in my arms. My breaths came in heaves from the exertion having brought them straight from the gardens, despite the several breaks I took along the way.

“What on earth are you doing?” She asked, stifling a laugh when she noticed my red, sweat soaked face.

“We had plans tonight, remember? This is what I was telling you I wanted to do!” I said, motioning to the produce on the floor.

“You wanted to do something with pumpkins?” One blonde eyebrow rose, clearly not remembering what I explained to her before. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair in slight annoyance with her. Oftentimes things would have a way of slipping her mind, but that was probably due to the stress Isaac put her under.

“I told you last week I wanted to carve these.” I told her, but still, she held that same confused expression.

“My dad told me about this thing he used to do when he was a kid, before the outbreak. The whole family would go to a pumpkin patch, pick some, and then cut shapes or faces into them and then put them out by their doors or front steps. He said it was some Halloween activity they did.” I explained again, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do? I mean, you did say your dad was a child when he did this. Don’t you think we’re a bit old?” I rolled my eyes at her, frustration growing in my chest by the second. Sometimes I forgot how serious she could be, and how regularly I would have to convince her to have a little bit of fun when Isaac wasn’t giving her what seemed like endless tasks.

“Of course. You did promise we could last week when I told you about it.” I said, hoping it would jog her memory a little bit. She remained quiet, crossing her muscular arms in front of her chest. The silence spoke enough that she didn’t need to answer, clearly this idea sounded too silly to her.

“Well, I’m going to carve these. If you don’t want to join me, that’s fine. Do whatever you want.” Without looking at here again, I squatted down to pick one of the heavy fruits up again despite still being exhausted from carrying them so far. With a grunt, I stood straight and began to stagger over to my round dining table at the far side of my room.

“Here, let me help you with that.” She said, stopping me before I got too far. Without asking, she took it from me with ease, barley straining from the weight. I smiled, watching as she moved the second one and stood at the table waiting for me.

“So, what do we do?” She asked as I sat down in a chair. Her eyes scanned them with new curiosity, though I suspected she just wanted me to be happy.

“I have some knives and a larger spoon over there in the kitchen, top drawer. We need two of those.” I told her, pointing to the tiny kitchen area. She retrieved the clean utensils and returned back to me.

“Ok, so what we need to do is cut the tops off, clean out the middle and then we can get carving!” I said, wasting no time in slicing into mine. My biceps screamed in protest once I plunged the knife into the top. Ignoring the pain, I continued to saw around the stem until a far from perfect round circle was in the very center. Abby followed suit, scrunching up her nose at the stringy mess within the fruit.

“My dad said the seeds are edible if you bake them. Want to try?” I asked, holding a flat white seed in front of my face.

“By all means, if you want to sift through this mess for some, go ahead.” She replied as she plopped a scoop of the center onto the table.

We continued this until everything was cleaned out and the air around us smelled like squash. I sat in front of mine, contemplating what I wanted to do for mine. My eyes wandered over to Abby as she thought about hers as well. I admired how her eyebrows furrowed together in thought and her crystal blue orbs scanned the blank orange surface before her. The way her bottom lip stuck out slightly when she was fully focused on something was one of the most adorable things I had seen a person do. And the way her honey locks framed her face and cascaded over her broad shoulders...I was just happy she was with me.

That’s when an idea struck me, pulling me back to the present moment. I picked up my knife and quickly began carving the shapes I had in mind. The only sound in the room being my constant sawing at the thick orange skin. Once I was finished, I sat back, proud of the face I had carved.

“What did you do for yours?” She asked, placing her chin on my shoulder, observing the masterpiece in front of me.

“It’s you!” A wide grin crossed my face as I turned to look at her. Her eyes widened, darting across the face.

“Me? But my eye isn't a triangle.” She said, pointing to the right eye. A small chuckle left her lips when the grin I wore disappeared.

“And I certainly don’t have buck teeth, or a snaggletooth!” My cheeks tinted pink at her relentless teasing.

“Oh shut up, This is the jack-o-lantern equivalent to you. Though it definitely isn’t as pretty as you.” I retaliated, mumbling the last part.

“Well I’m flattered you chose me as your subject of art.” She said in a playfully flirtations tone, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I have an idea for mine. Come over here.” She said, patting the seat beside her. I did, resting my elbow on the back of my seat.

I watched as she began to slice long curves into hers until they connected at both the top and the bottom, making the shape of a heart. She went around it again, reaching inside to poke out the pieces of flesh that were left behind, discarding them to the pile of goop. With the tip of her knife, she put two initials right next to each other before handing the blade to me. I leaned forward, putting my own initials right below hers, along with the date 2037, the year we had started dating.

“Well this is cute. I didn’t know you were this cheesy.” I said with a smirk.

“Oh please, I know you love this sort of thing.” She replied, resting her arm around my shoulders. I turned my head to face her, pressing a chaste kiss to her plump lips.

“Lets put these in the windowsill.” I said, carrying mine over to the waist height ledge. She followed with hers, placing it right beside mine.

“That was actually really fun.” Abby admitted, wrapping her arm around my waist.

“How much did the gardener make you pay for those anyways?” She asked, knowing that he was never one to just give away goods.

“Oh, just a week worth of his chores. Let me tell you, his work isn’t exactly easy. I can see why he guards his crops the way he does.” I confessed. Though it truly was a lot of work, spending a fun evening with Abby made everything worth it.

“Can we go to sleep now, or put a movie on? I’m very tired.” A yawn forced its way from my lungs as I stretched my sore limbs and back. Without waiting for an answer, I plopped down on the couch, tossing a blanket over us when she finally joined me, content with how our night went.

#abby #anderson #abby anderson #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby reader insert #Abby Anderson Reader Insert #abby fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

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Mr. Self Destruct 3

Part One Part Two

Warnings: Bucky’s a bastard, control, PTSD and other lovely mental issues, noncon (oral, toyplay, restraints, vaginal and anal sex)

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Bucky has been left by his closest friend. With no other choice, he works for Stark Industries in the name of both Stark and Rogers but before he can begin his new position, he is mandated to attend counselling. With you, the company’s resident therapist.

Note: I’m just taking a break from Tapestry for a day or two. I wanted to finish this little series first. This is just all the kink and darkness so enjoy. Love you all.

Anyway :) Please like, reply, and/or reblog if you read.

Bucky didn’t show the next day. Even as you finished up with your last patient and waited around an hour. You laughed at yourself sardonically after you’d sat back and realized what you were waiting for. You expected to find him in your bedroom again but he wasn’t there either. He was definitely in control. Not just of the sessions, but your life.

It was the day after when he came around. Your last appointment was at three and you were free by four. You didn’t think to linger. You pulled on your jacket and grabbed your bag. You left behind your leather folder. You wanted to hide for as long as you could. Just until he came to haunt you again.

He was there in the lobby. You spotted him the moment you stepped off the elevator and he saw you too. You could tell he’d been expecting you. You tried to act as if you hadn’t seen him but there was no pretending with him. He reached the front doors before you and blocked the revolving escape. You slid to a halt on your wedged boots.

“It’s shitty out,” He said. “You need a ride?”

“No,” You glanced past him. “I’ll catch a train.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like a question.” He chuckled. “We’ve got a stop to make before we hit your little hole.”

“And if I refuse? Huh? You gonna hit me in front of all these people? You gonna drag me out kicking and screaming?”

“I won’t have to do that.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “One minute, let me turn the sound off here.”

He flicked his finger across the screen before he turned it to you. You watched yourself on the screen, the uneven angle as the lens peeked out above a stretch of fabric; likely his pocket. It was you with your little silver bullet against your clit. The camera got closer and only your moans could be heard as the focus blurred between your bodies, the flash of his vibranium hand blocked it.

“Seems unprofessional to me,” He smirked. “I think Happy might agree. Maybe the licensing board too.”

You stared at him and reached to zip up your thick jacket. You nodded to him and pushed away his phone. “Just...let’s go.”

He leaned in as he tucked the phone away, “Good girl.” He slithered and your skin crawled.

He backed away and waved you after him. You sighed and followed as he led you to another door. This one led to the attached garage along the side of the tower. He didn’t wait but strolled decisively through it and down the steps to the tarmac. You held the rail as your boots threatened to catch on the stairs.

A dark blue car chirped as he neared it and he opened the door. He dropped inside and you pulled open the passenger side door as he turned the engine. You slipped your bag in front of the seat as you sat and shut the door with a click. He backed out of his spot before you even had a chance to do up your seat belt.

“Can I ask where we’re going?” You ventured.

“You can,” He kept one hand on the wheel as he leaned casually on the console. “But you won’t have your answer til we get there.”

You bit down and lowered your chin. He was drawing it out as long as he could. Whatever he had planned. Whatever new humiliation he had devised. And you had no choice but to bear it. To feed from the hand that would close around your throat and choke the life from you. And if that failed, it would wrought the destruction of the little you held dear.

You kept your eyes down as he drove. The city was pale and lifeless as winter descended upon the fluorescent giants. The street lights loomed over the sidewalks and the mailboxes formed little hills beneath the snowy blanket. You touched your forehead as your vision blurred. The grim vision of the urban sprawl made it all too real.

When he pulled into the small plaza, you were confused. The little convenience store that advertised the lotto jackpot and Marlboro's was nothing special and you doubted he was taking you to the small Vietnamese eatery for dinner. Your eyes found the darkened shop nestled in the corner; a red sign flashing above XXX. No way.

“Out,” He turned off the car as he reached for the door handle. “Stop dragging your ass. I’d like to be out of this shit before it’s past my ankle.”

You climbed out of the car but forgot your bag on the floor. You tucked your hands in your pockets as the flakes gathered in your hair. He rounded the front of the car and whistled to you like a dog as he marched to the tinted windows of the sex shop. You shook your head and trailed after him.

You caught the door behind him and let it close heavily. You looked around at the mannequins in lingerie, the silicon and rubber toys lined along the shelves, and the explicit covers of porno DVDs. A woman with bright red hair greeted you from behind the counter and Bucky returned her cheerful hello. You stayed quiet and followed him.

You weren’t a prude but the last time you’d been to place like this was with your ex-husband. Nothing special, some lube and a cockring for him. You had mulled over a leather garter with studs but left empty-handed. A pathetic attempt to revive a dead relationship.

Bucky grabbed a mesh basket from the stack next to the counter and led you to the wall, though he seemed to have forgotten about you. He tilted his head at the vibes and narrowed his eyes.

“I doubt you need anymore,” He scoffed.

He moved on and stopped sharply at the next display. He unhooked a leather crop and waved it through the air. He dropped it in the basket and you stared at its handle sticking out. He grabbed another item; a leather collar and matching leash, and added some straps to slip beneath a mattress.

“Bucky…” You said quietly as you grabbed the basket. “You don’t want to do this.”

He grinned and licked his bottom lip as he turned to you. “You don’t know what I want but I can show you.” His blue eyes bore into you. “You want me to deal with my control issues, this is how I deal, doc. And beneath all your repression, I know you want it. Your top drawer can’t hide it.”

You cringed and threw your hands up. “Call it therapy but it’s not that. This isn’t coping, this isn’t addressing the issue, this is feeding it. It won’t help.”

“You’re off the clock, doc,” He carried on along the shelf. “Give it up.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. You tried to avoid looking at the toys, instead focusing on the price tags; pretended it was a grocery store or anywhere else. You looked up as he grab a set of plugs and quickly lowered your gaze again. He stopped and turned back to you.

“You wanna pick out some lube,” He still had the plugs in his hand; a kit, smallest to largest. “You’ll thank me for it later.”

He dropped them in the basket with the rest and spun back to the merchandise. You took a deep breath and glanced around. You crossed to the pyramid display of lubes; hot and cold, flavoured, scented, sensitive skin… The red-haired woman grinned at you as you peeked over at you and you smiled shyly and turned back to the oils.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” She asked as she neared.

“No, I… I have a sensitive ecosystem,” You offered. “Don’t really know what to pick.”

“Something water-based,” She advised as she reached to the rack. “This stuff’s good. It’s flavoured but shouldn’t cause any issues.” She smirked and looked over as Bucky scratched his head before a shelf of dildos. “Does he prefer sweets?”

“I guess,” You answered softly. “I’ll just take the strawberry. Everyone likes strawberry, right?”

“He seems open to a lot,” She commented. “You get half-off this brand with the plugs anyways.”

“Oh, thanks,” You grabbed the strawberry lube and smiled.

You parted from the nosy cashier and crossed to Bucky as he moved onto the back corner. He turned and caught your hand before you could drop the bottle in the basket. He wrestled it from your grip and read the label.

“Mmm, strawberry.” He remarked as he let it fall with the rest of his haul.

You wanted to cover your face and curl into a ball. You were mortified. He stopped before the mannequin in a strappy leather number with no real coverage. Tits out and everything else; ass framed by the thick straps. He raised his brows as he admired it.

“Find your size,” He pointed to it. “I know you’re probably more a lace woman but I think this will be...fun.”

He didn’t wait for a response. You sifted through the stack of plastic wrapped lingerie and fished out your size. You caught up to him again and he took it from you without a glance. He led you to the counter and plopped the basket on it.

The red-head began to scan each item at a time and filled a big black bag with them. Bucky tapped his gloved fingers on the counter as he waited. She smiled between you. “Special occasion?”

“You could say that,” Bucky answered.

The woman giggled and hit total. Bucky reached for his wallet and swiped his card. He seemed unfazed by the exorbitant amount he’d just spent on sex toys. He took his receipt and his bag with a smile and a thanks. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close as he led you to the door.

“Now,” He said as he pulled open the door. “We’re ready.”

Bucky grabbed your keys from you as you walked up to your door. He unlocked it with one hand and ushered you inside with a point of his finger. You entered and he was close behind. You unzipped your coat as he set the bag aside and kicked off his boots. He hung his jacket over yours and you struggled to wiggle free of your own boots.

He grabbed the bag again and urged you onward. When you reached your bedroom, his patience had worn thin. He shoved you in and closed the door with his foot. He placed the bag on your dresser and stirred through the contents. He tossed the lingerie at you and looked to the bathroom door.

“Go on, I’ll get it all ready.” He said. You didn’t wait for him to tell you twice.

You hid behind the door and stripped yourself slowly. You could hear him moving around on the other side. It took you several tries to untangle the straps and when you were certain it was correct, you stared down at your body. The straps were set in triangles around your tits and crisscrossed down to your crotch; another exposed vee. Your ass was propped up by the leather and you twisted as you tried to see it.

A rap of knuckles on the door and you swallowed. You opened it and Bucky raised a brow as he nodded over his shoulder.

“Go on.” He ordered and you stepped past him.

He grabbed the bag of toys and as you stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. He went into the bathroom and the sink cranked on. The straps had been secured, the leash was laid out, and only your bottom sheet remained on the mattress. Your head spun.

“Your ass looks great in that,” Bucky said. “Turn around.”

You turned and he looked you up and down. He neared and set his handful of toys on the night table. He stepped back and slipped his fingers beneath the straps along your shoulder. He rubbed them with his thumbs.

“Look at you, doc,” He purred. “You should start wearing this for our sessions.”

Your jaw tensed and you said nothing. He seemed amused by your visible irritation. He let go and reached for the leash strewn on the bed. He unbuckled the collar and spun back to you. You braced yourself as he wrapped it around your neck and secured it there. He tugged on the leash and you winced.

“Even better.” He let the leash hang limp and backed away as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Go on and get on your knees.”

You did as he said. You almost fell over as you did and stared at the carpet as he unzipped his fly. You listened to the rustle of his clothing. When he neared, he was entirely naked and it took all your strength to look up at him. He bent and grabbed the leashed again.

“Come on,” He pulled and you fell forward onto your hands. He snickered and led you around the room. You moved stiffly; thoroughly embarrassed. A literal dog. “It was like Pavlov. I know you’ve heard of him. They had words that they conditioned me with. Like sit.” He motioned and you lowered your ass. “Good girl.”

You trembled in anger. He wrapped the leash around his hand and pulled you closer. “Up. On your knees.” He yanked until you were almost against him. His cock bobbed before you. “Go on and get your bone, doggy.”

You glared at him and he thrust so that his cock poked you in the face. You flinched and lowered your eyes. You parted your lips and poked your tongue out to drag it along his length. You swirled around his tip and he twitched. You covered the head of his cock with your lips. His other hand went to your head and pushed you further.

He hit the back of your throat and you gagged. You barely fought it back as he forced himself deeper until your lips were against his pelvis. You reached to grip his thighs as you struggled to breathe. He relented but quickly crashed back into you. You slapped at him and clawed at his thick muscles. Your loud gulps filled your ears and added to the churning of your stomach.

He moved his hips in time with your head. He fucked your mouth steadily as his groans floated from him. He was like an animal, rutting into you faster and faster. He was fed by the noises of your distress; his power over you. Your body was his to use as they had his.

He sank as deep as he could as his thrusts slowed. He spasmed and grunted. A carnal growl. He came down your throat as your head swelled from lack of air. He held himself at his limit until he was done. He tore you off of him, your leash taut as he kept you from slumping over. His cum dripped from your lips with your spit.

He yanked you up to your feet and dragged his thumb through the mess along your chin. His hand slipped down and stretched over the collar. He unhooked the leash and let it fall to the floor. He backed you up until your knees met the bed.

He shoved you and you fell onto the bed with a bounce. He climbed up after you and pulled on you until you moved. He shoved your wrist into a restraint and secured it tightly. He did the other and then your ankles. He knelt between your legs and tweaked your nipples roughly. You whimpered and he snarled in delight.

He reached to the night stand and grabbed the bottle of lube. He squirted the cool oil between your legs and shoved his fingers down to spread it along your folds. He lifted a brow as he found you wet. He chuckled.

“Oh, doc, you can’t hide it. Not from me.” He continued to rub you and you tried not to squirm. “Maybe that’s the problem, hmm? Did you hold back with the husband? That why he left?”

You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“All you wanted to do was talk but you sure are quiet now,” He taunted and dipped his fingers inside of you.

“He held back,” You snapped. “I left him, okay?” You tried to close your legs but couldn’t move against the restraints. “Cause he didn’t wanna fuck me anymore.”

“Good riddance, then.”

He pulled his hand away and leaned over to grab the dildo he’d chosen from the bunch. It was big and thicker than any you owned. He placed it against you and slowly pushed inside. You gritted your teeth as it stretched you. He stopped as it filled you entirely and you gasped.

Slowly, he began to work it in and out of you. You gripped the straps as your body tensed and your breath hitched. He sped up as he sensed your pleasure mount. As you desperately fought against it. As the moans escaped you and betrayed you to him. Soon, he was slamming the dildo into you as your voice rose without thought.

You came with a curse. You squeezed your eyes shut but could sense his satisfaction. He gloated as he continued to fuck you with the toy. The squelching filled the room and your head. He stopped and let the toy slip out on its own.

“When you did fuck,” The bed shifted as he spoke. “Was it boring? Did he even try?”

“I… Early on, he did. And then, I guess he just didn’t care so long as he came.” You said quietly.

You’d never told anyone the true troubles of your marriage. You’d fed them all the excuse of too much time apart for work and too many differences. It was all true but the lack of intimacy was the worst of it.

“And did you ever…” He paused and you opened your eyes. He held up a plug and your mouth fell open. “Try anything… new?”

“No,” You said as you eyed the toy. “No, please, I never…”

“We’re starting small,” He coaxed. “Tell me you didn’t divorce that moron to fuck yourself with that pathetic bullet every night.”

You stayed quiet as he undid your binds one at a time. He turned you over and you didn’t offer much resistance. Couldn’t. He was too strong. As he strapped you down on your stomach, you raised your head.

“Are you… recording this too?” You asked as you tried to look at him behind you.

“If I am, it’ll be for my own pleasure,” He assured you. “But I already have more than enough footage, doc.”

Your dropped your head back to the mattress and huffed. His knees pressed against you thighs and a cool trickle seeped between your cheeks. He spread it with his metal fingers and circle your tight ring. It tickled and you flinched. He pushed against your hole and slowly his finger stretched you.

He drew his finger in and out several times as you hissed. It hurt but it wasn’t an unbearable pain. Something about it was delicious and you hungered for more. He shoved another finger inside and you dug your nails into the sheet. You grunted as he played with you.

He pulled out and for a moment, silence. The cap of the lube flicked and you felt a new pressure against your ring. Harder, colder. He pushed the plug in little by little. You whined until he had it in entirely and your ring closed around the stem. You head lolled back and forth as you moaned.

“I always knew you were a tight ass, doc,” He slapped your ass with his metal hand and you yelped.

You felt the straps slacken around your ankles and he lifted your hips. He pushed his thighs under yours and his cock poked along your vee. He reached between your legs and rubbed his tip against your folds. He entered you easily. Your walls welcomed him as he sank into you completely.

“Doc, my god,” He groaned. “Shit. He missed out, didn’t he?”

He thrust and you moaned. He did it again and you moaned. Again. Each time he did it, you couldn’t hold back. You couldn’t stifle the sheer pleasure of being so full. And then he wiggled the plug as he fucked you. You’d never felt anything so intense.

The sparks began to spit from your core and seared along your flesh. With each rock of his hips, you grew louder and his hips moved faster. Your back arched as he continued to toy with the plug inside you and his other hand slid down your back. He spread his fingers across your back and held you down.

He pulled the plug out and you gasped. He was quick to fumble around and grab another. He pushed inside and you let out a series of pathetic mewls. It was bigger than the last. You slowly adjusted to it though it hurt all the same.

He grunted with each plunge. Your panting mingled with his and your bodies sang a carnal tune. You could hear it all; the friction, the wetness, the sheer animalism. You came again but couldn’t even cry out as your eyes rolled back. You drooled onto the sheet as the bed jolted below you.

He came too. And he didn’t pull out. You didn’t care as the ripples washed over you. He slowed and exhaled loudly as he leaned back on his heels. He slapped your ass again as he pulled out. His cum leaked from you.

He backed up and dropped your hips back to the bed. He took the dildo and lined it up with your entrance. He slammed it into you and you yiped. He held it there and grabbed the end of the plug with his other hand. Slowly, he slipped it out of you as your ring stretched around it. The emptiness was both a relief and a disappointment.

And then he pulled the dildo out too. He lined himself up with your hole and you tugged at your binds. “No, no…” You whispered. “Please. It’s too much.”

He stretched you around his tip as he ignored your pleas. He pulled back and pushed back in. He repeated the motion several times, each time, pushing further in. He sank down entirely as he spread his body over yours and you exclaimed. Your eyes were singed by sudden tears.

“Bucky!” You cried. “Jesus fuck, get off of me.”

“Shhh.” He covered your mouth with his hand as he reached out with his other arm. “We both know you want this. You want to be controlled.”

He thrust and you squealed into his hand. His other snaked beneath you and you heard a click. The bullet buzzed against your stomach as he slid it lower. He pressed it to your bud as he ground against you. The vibrations flowed through you. His groans trickled through your veins like venom.

He held the vibe to you with his hand, his other clasped over your lips. You breathed frantically as he sped up. You closed your eyes as you body shook against your will. You came violently. The pure pleasure intertwined with an agony so sweet. You shuddered beneath him and it fed his fervour.

He removed his hand from your mouth and pulled his arm from beneath you. He left the bullet to roll beneath you, still buzzing. He planted his hands on either side of you and lifted his pelvis and slammed back into you. He did it over and over again, his flesh slapping loudly against yours. The pain reverberated through you.

He snarled and hissed. He balled the sheet up in his fist as his other went to your head. He pulled your head up and whispered in your ear. “This is what it felt like. I hated it and loved it all the same.”

He grabbed the back of your collar and curled your back as he dropped his hips. He fucked you into the mattress as the leather grew tighter and you gasped for breath. And you felt him cum. The current of warmth within was soothing. He slowed and rested his weight over you. He exhaled in your ear as he unhooked his fingers from the collar and stayed inside of you.

“Gee, doc,” He breathed. “I feel a lot better now.” He rolled his hips and you murmured. “A lot lighter.”

END

#mr self destruct #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #mcu #marvel #fic #short series #series #au #captain america

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captainjimothycarter · 3 years

Note

I’d be rlly interested in seeing take on infinity war!steve and peggy. You’re writing is great, but most importantly, keep doing what makes u happy & healthy 😊

Like IW Steve like FROM IW or IW looking Steve? Either way, this is what i came up with. I am so unsure if its what you wanted. Also thank you so much, you are amazing and I”m glad you love my writing <3 I also haven’t seen IW so bear with me.

“I don’t understand,” Peggy found herself saying for the unkempt time that evening. She stared down at her hands, not able to bring herself to look up at him.

This isn’t real. This couldn’t be real. This was some dream, some illusion her brain has cocked up from long, overworking hours in a hot and stuffy building because someone had painted the windows shut yet again.

And yet, her mind subtle, it has to be.

Because she does not remember ever seeing Steve with a full beard nor with hair this long, nor with this look in his eyes that has told her he’s lost everything. He’s nearly as afraid of her as she is of him.

She’s seen him with stubble, weeks of over shaving have caused his beard to come in slower than the rest. She’s seen him with longer hair than what the military rules regulate, but in times of war, rules are bent and forgotten. She’s seen him with a lost look in his eyes when it involved saving innocence from camps and even when it came to losing Barnes, but this? This is something so much worst.

He’s pacing in front of her, still having yet to remove his uniform. It’s grimy, covered in God knows what. He’s bleeding still from a busted lip, a cut above his eyebrow. He’s worst for wear with neglect and from what she can make terms of it, a war had happened. A battle had been fought, people lost to weapons beyond her understanding and stones taking people’s lives and turning them to dust.

He stops to look at her, hearing her words, taking in her appearance. She looks straight from his memory, wearing a cream blouse and red skirt. A heel is broken and the hem of the skirt is covered in dirt and there’s a smudge of it on the tip of her nose, but she’s real. She’s breathing. Every scan done to her proves she’s real.

Turning back to a man named Bruce, Steve waved his hand again in her direction, something that was getting annoying. “Explain.”

The man gave an exhausted sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He took his glasses off and massaged his temples. “Steve, I’ve explained it - the-the fact is I can’t understand this!” His fist hit the computer, making them all jump. “The only people who can are -”

“Don’t,” Steve breathed in a tone she had so rarely heard before. Begging. Don’t admit the words that are true. That he knows to be true.

“The fact is-”

“You don’t know that!”

He’d taken a step towards the doctor, his shoulders squared and jawline clenched. She’s seen that look before - how many times had he given that look in the face of battle? How many times had he looked this determined when arguing his point during tactics of war?

Except he wasn’t arguing to save damage done to their men - he was begging for his own salvation.

“Steve.”

The voice came from a woman Peggy hadn’t seen walked in, a woman with short, cropped blonde hair. The way she held herself told her that she understood the argument between the two, that she was on edge herself, worried for her friend.

The Captain let out a shuttering breath, fists clenched as he turned to look at her. For a second, he looked like he was about to swing and hit her before his shoulders slacked.

“Go take a breather. Bruce, you too.”

When the men cleared out of the room, Peggy let her shoulders drop and ran a hand over her face. She felt a few flakes of dirt fall from her hair. How had she’d gotten so dirty?

“This is not the reunion I imagined,” she attempted to joke, looking up at the woman.

The blonde’s lips twitched slightly as she got on her level, squatting down to look at her. “I don’t think this is what he imagined either. Steve is…”

“I know,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You don’t have to tell me, I know.”

“Then you know he’ll come around to you once…” She swallowed and looked up at the holograms, watching the faces change. Her eyes reflected the hurt. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

Peggy still couldn’t make heads or tails of what the hell had happened. She was sitting behind her desk, late at night when a flash of bright light had taken her. She had no time to react, to shout, to even grab her gun, before she was tumbling head-first and into a pile of mud. She wasn’t alone when she came to her senses, moments later. The woman with blonde hair - known as Natasha - and a man with the clearest blue eyes she’s only remembered in her dreams stared at her.

Steve.

It had been the first name out of her lips and Steve’s face twisted in pain and horror as he dropped to his knees beside her. His hand ghost over hers, just barely touching her. He wouldn’t look at her, past her, to the woman, trying to determine if this was real or not. She had touched him and he flinched, causing her hand to jerk back.

“You’re real.”

Those should not have been their reunion sentence, the first words out of his lips but they were. They were the most heartbreaking thing she had ever heard and the sound played in a record in her head.

It’s what brought the first sob from her lips, the water pouring from the showerhead washing away her tears. She was thankful for a hot shower, scrubbing perhaps too hard at her skin to wash away any trace of dirt. She wasn’t sure why she was crying.

Maybe it was the fact of everything - the horror Steve had been through, the situation she fell in on. Or the overwhelming sense that he’d been alive this whole time. Or just everything. All she knew when she came out of the shower, hair done into an un-elegant knot on the top of her head, she felt no better.

Natasha had left clothes for her to wear. A simple pair of jeans and a blouse, a pair of pajamas were left behind on a bed. She wasn’t even sure where she was staying or whose room this was. Just that she was both exhausted and hungry and wanted to find Steve to give him the comfort he needed, but not wanting to force her place.

A knock at the door distracted her from getting dressed, tying the soft, plush robe tighter around her frame as she went to answer the door. “Oh, Natasha, I’m…” The words stopped on her tongue as she found Steve standing in her doorway.

He’s showered too, given the damp hair hanging in his face. The cuts and bruises looked almost better by a small margin. He had pulled on a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, his hands full of take out that reminded Peggy just how hungry he was.

“Hi,” he breathed, underneath the beard she could see a flush forming. “I...I brought...dinner. Figured you were hungry. Interdimensional travel, I hear makes you starved.”

“Hi.” He looked so nervous, it reminded her of the little boy from Brooklyn decades ago. “Where did you hear that one?” Peggy quipped, hand closing around the frame of the door.

“Thor.”

Slowly stepping aside, she waved him in and Steve seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind them. “I’ll have to meet this Thor, then, if he’s an expert at these travels.”

“You’d like him, he’s...he’s great…” She could see his shoulders sagging as he placed the steaming bag onto the table, gripping the chair hard enough that she could hear the sound of the wood splintering.

There was a little hesitation in her motives, but she forced herself through to take his hands. He turned to her and she wasn’t surprised to find tears in his eyes. She was surprised when he hugged her tightly, face buried in her hair.

Fuck.

She couldn’t deny herself this. Her arms tightened around him, pulling his frame closer to hers. His shoulders shook with a gasping sob, Peggy’s arms only tightening to give him the solace he deserved.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that position or who cried more, but she was reluctant to pull away. His hand held her cheek, gently wiping the tears away.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, always sounding in awe when he spoke of her looks. “You-you always were - I mean you have… you just…”

Despite the sniffling and tears on both of their faces, Peggy stood on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, arms moving to wrap around his neck. He picked her up off of her feet to kiss her in return.

The kiss was not what she imagined, how their reunion should’ve gone, but it was theirs. He gave a weak laugh as he sat her back on her feet, still holding her face in between both his hands now.

“I’m a mess,” she retorted, lips now were swollen from kissing.

“Beautiful,” he corrected, making her snort and roll her eyes. His lips twitched into a small, sad smile, kissing her temple.

They stayed in silence, time ticking by slowly and too fast for Peggy’s liking. It wasn’t until his watch chimed, making them both jumps did they slowly pull away from one another. Suddenly remembering there was food there, her stomach growled loudly and he gave her a look.

“You’re starving, you should’ve said something. Come here.”

Dishing out fried rice and orange chicken, Steve sat beside her, using a pair of chopsticks to slowly eat his rice. It wasn’t the reunion dinner she imagined, but it was theirs.

“Did Natasha send you?” She asked after a long minute.

“She talked me into my senses. She-she’s right… we don’t know what the hell is going on, how the hell you came here to be or-or if this will even last…” His voice faltered on that one, her heart clenching. “But I-I should grab it while it lasts.”

“I’m not leaving,” Peggy found herself whispering, Steve smirking at the determination in her tone.

Steve snorted into his bite of rice, choking when she gently hit his chest. “What? Are you going to fight Thanos yourself?”

“Maybe. And get you to shave that damn beard while we’re at it.”

Behind it, she can see the puppy dog pout that he was trying to get her attention with. She ignored it in favor of a bite of her food.

“I like my beard.”

“Mhm, darling.”

“You-I…” Steve found himself suddenly staring down at the rice, poking it around with the chopsticks. “You called me darling.”

Damnit, if he didn’t know how to make her heart flutter. She set her utensils down and turned to look at him, laying a hand on his thigh. “I did because you are my darling. The beard...suits you, it’s just...I am not used to it. The last I saw…”

“I was a scrumpy man in a too-tight uniform, becoming a human ice sculpture at the bottom of the ocean. Got it.” He grunted when she hit his chest again. “It was a joke, Pegs. A lot changed...too much has changed.”

The wariness in his voice spoke all, it tugged on her heart again. Peggy’s eyes softened as she climbed into his lap and cupped his face between both of her hands. His beard was softer than she imagined and this close, she could tell he put an effort to put aftershave on.

“Then I guess we can only do the right thing and change with it - it’s not like we can go back in time and change things.”

He nuzzled into her touch, leaned so their foreheads touch. A ghost of a smile was on his lips as they kissed.

“I’ve missed you, Pegs. So much.”

“And I, you, darling.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #Infinity Wars

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

03 pt 1 | m i n e | tim speedle, csi miami

Notes:

Okay, so I was stuck and struggling with what I wanted to do with this chapter for a while now, but today I sat down to try making it work again and... Well, this happened. Originally, chapter three was supposed to be one part, over and done.. But given everything at play here, I’ve decided to make it two parts instead.. So you guys don’t have a million different things coming at you all at once. I promise plenty of hot fluff in the next chapter. So.. do what you will with that information.

For now? Suspense. Crime show drama.

Summary:

They’re thrown together again when Sylvie comes to Miami to escape everything going on in her life. Tim never got over her. She never got over Tim. Will they reconnect? And what’ll happen when Sylvie finds herself in a bit of a situation?

Again.. why do my summaries suck?

Pairing:

Tim Speedle x OFC, Sylvie.

Warnings:

Stalker warning. Huuuge stalker warning. Crime show plot elements not limited to attempted kidnappings, stalking, creepy phone calls and notes, etc. I warn you all here that I am not affiliated with law enforcement, nor have I ever lived through any of this. So.. do with that what you will.

Eventual smut, lots of angst, slow burn sexual tension and fluff.

Other Parts:

[ one - two pt 1 - two pt 2 - soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@twistnet

THREE.

I was nervous.

Probably three times as nervous as I’d been back in high school when Tim picked me up for our first date. I took a few deep breaths and stepped back, giving myself a critical once over in the bathroom mirror before finally shrugging.

True, we were meeting to spend the evening at the beach. Hanging out on some boat his co-worker Eric had recently gotten with Eric and his wife as the sun set. But it wasn’t a date and it didn’t mean that Tim and I were magically going to find our way back together, either.

I had absolutely zero reason to be nervous and yet, here I was.

My cell phone rang.

My hands shook slightly upon seeing UNKNOWN CALLER on the call ID. I almost didn’t answer, but before I could stop myself, the annoyance of a ringing phone took over and I answered.

“Hello?”

Nothing but static. Some unintelligible background noises but nothing to really pinpoint who the caller might be. I honestly assumed that it was a wrong number and I was fully prepared to hang up the call, but just as I was about to, the odd voice broke through the static and quiet background noises.

“I’m watching you, sweetheart. I’m closer now than I was in Paris… That red bikini you’re wearing looks really tempting.”

My blood ran cold as I glanced down at the red bikini I’d chosen to wear with my favorite cut offs and a cropped white Levis shirt with bold red lettering. Almost instantly, I was looking everywhere in a panicked frenzy. How had the caller seen me? Was there a hidden camera in my hotel room?

Was he in the room in the building across from mine?

I found myself walking out onto the balcony that overlooked the pool cabanas and poolside below. Scanning the midday crowd. Nobody stood out to me. The room across from mine was either not in use or the person occupying it was out of the room because when I gazed across, I saw no sign of movement inside.

That left the hidden camera theory. I rushed back inside, locking the door to my balcony behind me as I went. I searched every single inch of that hotel room until I was absolutely sure that there were no hidden cameras or mics and that my mirror was a normal one and not a two way mirror.

My search turned up empty and I kicked at the bedframe, hopping around and swearing when it hurt my foot to do so. I flopped across my bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to pull myself together.

Trying to keep a calm and clear head so that I didn’t leave anything out when I made my call to the front desk and then Miami Dade PD.

As soon as I’d spoken to front desk and arranged to check out of my room, I gathered my things. After calling my realtor, I arranged to rush the final paperwork on the furnished beach house and she told me to come by and pick up my keys this afternoon around 5. I told her I’d be there and then I paced my hotel room.

I needed to let Rex know what was going on, if for nothing more than to remind him that he’d yet to actually handle anything as far as my stalker was concerned. But something told me to cut Rex out of the whole process and just place my call to Miami Dade PD instead. Like I’d taken to doing more recently. Because this time around, I seemed to be getting somewhere. Taking a deep breath, I dialed the number to the station and settled in, waiting on the call to be answered.

“Yes, I’d like to speak to Lieutenant Caine, please? Sure, I’ll wait.” as I waited on the call to be transferred, I took a few deep breaths and went back over every single detail of the call I’d just gotten from the unknown number.

No matter how small or insignificant it seemed. If anything could help law enforcement finally catch this creep so I could put this all behind me and prepare to start moving onward with a normal life out of the spotlight, I made note of it.

My call was finally transferred and as soon as I finished detailing everything for Lieutenant Caine, he told me that he’d send someone from Forensics over to sweep the room and make sure I hadn’t missed any hidden recording devices.

I agreed to it and given that I still had an entire five hours until Tim was off work and we were meeting up, I turned on the television in my hotel room, settling in with some mindless soap operas until there was a knock at the hotel room door.

I threw it open, blinking in surprise to find not only Tim on the other side, but Natalia Boa Vista and Lieutenant Caine himself.

I took a deep breath and Tim eyed me in concern. The tension between Tim and Lieutenant Caine was definitely palpable, enough so that I could almost reach out and touch it. I got the distinct feeling that he’d pretty much demanded Tim stay at the lab, but Tim being Tim, read stubborn as all hell, he’d come along.

“What’d this guy say?” Tim asked quietly. Calmly. Almost too calm. I could tell that the whole thing had him angry and just like back when we were dating, going into overprotective mode.

“Tim, you need to set up your camera. I think over by the balcony door.” Lieutenant Caine spoke in a calm and crisp tone. Tim eyed me, waiting on an answer. I muttered softly, “I’ll explain it all tonight, okay?”

“I’m holdin you to that, blondie.” Tim mumbled back, his voice firm and commanding. His eyes full of concern as they locked on mine. After Tim set up his camera, they began doing a full sweep of my hotel room.

I interrupted at one point, asking if they’d like to search my luggage too, because I’d been so upset it honestly never occurred to me to search there in my own earlier search immediately after getting the call I’d gotten.

When Natalia suggested that it wouldn’t be a bad idea, I dragged out my two overstuffed suitcases and sat down on the floor, unzipping them. Dumping the contents of my rolling makeup case on the floor neatly. I even dragged out my toiletry bag and the garment bags with my two favorite designer dresses stored neatly inside.

I think my alternate reasoning behind this was because I realized I was in Miami and essentially, Miami was right up there with California. I had no doubt in my mind that the cops probably had their fill of egotistical celebrity types who were basically pulling the strings behind their own misfortunes just to garner publicity and any personal gain they could from the whole thing and I wanted them to know that Rex was full of shit. I wasn’t one of those types.

Because I had my suspicions that the reason I hadn’t been taken seriously in my previous attempts to report all of this as it was happening when I became aware of it was Rex going over my head and telling them that I was blowing things out of proportion or worse, making it all up for attention and fame.

“Have you spoken to hotel management about changing suites?”

“I told them I wanted to end my stay, yes. I’ve been in the process of buying a beach house here, sir.. I got hold of my realtor and asked if there was any way I could speed the purchase. I’m getting my key this afternoon, actually.” I assured Horatio. He nodded.

“Does your stepfather know about recent developments?” was his next question. Again, I assured him that my stepfather had been the first call. And that my stepfather mentioned calling him later in the afternoon to touch base.

The search of my hotel room turned up nothing, but I could feel my entire body heat up when Natalia pulled out the framed photos of Tim and I but said nothing. I knew Tim had seen it. I tensed a little, letting out a quiet and ragged breath when the rest of the search went by without Tim saying anything about the pictures. I think I was grateful for that. I know I was praying to hell he’d been busy and hadn’t seen them. Because if he had… That opened an entirely new can of worms.

And possibly, it added a layer of awkwardness to our plans for later that evening. And the absolute last thing I wanted was to make anything awkward.

XXX

It stuck with him for the rest of his shift… The fact that she still had photos of them together and carried them with her had to mean something, right? Currently, Tim Speedle found himself pacing his lab back at the station, waiting on the last of the photos he’d taken of her hotel room to finish developing in the next room as he tried to puzzle it out.

Natalia stepped into the lab.

“So you weren’t going to mention at any point you dated one of my favorite minor characters in a soap opera?” she teased him gently.

From across the room, Alexx’s mouth turned upward in a smile as she sat nearby, eating a late lunch. Listening as Tim vented about the whole thing and blew off steam from an earlier head butting session with Lieutenant Caine over him going or not going with Natalia and the others to search Sylvie’s hotel room.

Of everyone he worked with, Alexx probably knew the most about the situation. And through the years, she’d tried more than a few times to get Tim to reach out and reconnect, pointing out that they never got closure. And that the feelings he had weren’t going away. That living life with a what if hanging over him wasn’t really living life at all.

Tim chuckled, shrugging. “ It’s just weird. To me she’s just Sylvie.”

“Or Blondie. That’s what you called her earlier.” Natalia was teasing again, flashing him a smile.

Alexx spoke up as she rose from her chair to go and throw away the remnants of her lunch in the waste bin. “I’m still saying that if she’s here… Now is the time, Tim. Don’t let it pass by, honey.”

“He’d better say something. Or I’m shoving them into a room together. She still had pictures of them together, Alexx. We both know what that means.” Natalia remarked as the two women shared a knowing look.

The revelation had Alexx turning slowly, gazing up at Tim. Placing a hand gently on his upper arm. “ It needs to happen. From everything you’ve just spent the past twenty five minutes venting about… To the way you’re getting so worked up about everything that’s happening to that poor girl right now… If there was ever a sign from the universe, Speed, this is it, sweetie. Wake up.”

Tim nodded. “Noted. Trust me, it’s not something I haven’t been thinking of myself lately.” he reassured Alexx, thanking her for listening as she made her way out of the lab. As soon as she was out of the room, Natalia spoke up.

“I can’t believe we didn’t find anything.”

“I can. I have the feeling that her manager’s in on this. Somewhere. Something about the guy just doesn’t feel right, ya know?” Tim mused as he paced in front of the photos he’d already developed, studying them all critically.

“ Yeah, I kind of think so myself, because her manager just came down here because apparently, he found out via paparazzi camped out at the hotel lobby that we were there and on her floor earlier. He was in full damage control mode.”

“That fuckin sleaze.” Tim muttered as he shook his head.

XXX

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? I tell you to keep a low profile that means you keep a low profile until I specifically tell you otherwise. Are we clear?” Rex fumed in anger, glaring at the phone in his hand.

Silence on the other end of the line. Rex swore and repeated in an angrier tone, “I asked you a question..Do you know how much damage control I’m having to do now?”

He slammed his phone down on his desktop when he heard the dial tone on the other end of the line. He stood and began to pace, taking a swing at one of the walls in his office.

The fact that she’d gone over his head and called in local law enforcement. Involved her stepfather after he’d specifically told her not to. He was losing control of the entire situation and losing control of a situation was not something Rex enjoyed or took kindly too.

Sitting down in his desk chair, he grabbed for his cell phone, calling Sylvie.

The call went to voicemail for a third time that day. Blue eyes settled on the notice some lawyer she’d hired sent over earlier in the morning and he chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.

“Ungrateful little bitch. Really wants to leave all this behind and live a normal life. We’ll just see about that...”

#tim speedle fanfiction #tim speedle fanfic #tim speedle fic #tim speedle imagine #tim speedle imagines #my writing ; tim speedle #my fanfiction ; tim speedle #my fics ; tim speedle #// don't kill me for the cliffhanger.#// trust me... it's gonna get hot and fluffy in the next part and I wanted us all to focus on that and not be torn #// stalker tw #// if you're okay with the things that are typically portrayed on crime shows then you should be okay to read this #// if anything that's actually truly triggering crops up i will address it in the warnings

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