#things had blown up in her face in the past when she'd spoken up or rocked the boat so she always tried to solve things behind closed doors | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostfags · 8 months

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Pretty When You Cry

Tamber oneshot

CW: Smut

Note: I first posted this on Wattpad and AO3, this is my first time posting on tumblr, so if the layout is shit don’t come for me too bad 🤞

It wasn't a secret that Amber Freeman had an affinity for inducing the suffering of another person. Most of the time, it was an emotional kind of suffering, sometimes it was the physical kind. On rare occasions, it was both. Tonight was one of those occasions. Tara can see it on her girlfriend's face the minute she walks through her front door. With her mother away on a business trip, she'd had her home all to herself for the past few days, and would continue to reside in it alone until the following week.

Amber thinks Tara doesn't pick up on the specific, targeted vibe she puts out when she's about to do something rash, but the brunette does. She can hear it in her voice, the slightest, nearly unrecognizable change in her tone, making her voice differ from the last time they'd spoken. She can see it in her body language, every inch of her seemingly twitching with anticipation. Tara noticed the things most wouldn't pick up on, simply because of how well she knew Amber. Every breath the taller girl took was that of familiarity to Tara, as was every sound, every movement she made. She'd cracked Amber Freeman wide open like a book, reading her well. She'd had to, to know when to look out for warning signs like the ones Amber currently displayed.

The night had started off slow, both girls lounging in the living room, enjoying each-other's company. Though, there's a certain tension in the air. Tara can feel it, radiating off of Amber. She's been doing her best to ignore it, sticking to her own little corner of the couch, eyes trained on the television. She's very aware of Amber, though she feigns disinterest. Maybe, if Tara doesn't feed into the girl's tactics, the night could remain slow.

Suddenly, she can feel the couch cushions next to her dip, Amber undoubtedly moving closer to her. Tara lets out a gentle huff as Amber's arm snakes it's way around her shoulders, the girl's head coming to rest on her shoulder. It's a sweet motion, or at least it would've been, if Tara hadn't picked up on the underlying intentions beforehand. A brief moment later, as predicted, Amber picked her head back up, now moving to press her lips against Tara's throat delicately, almost as if testing the waters. "Amber." She warns gently, heart fluttering inside her chest.

"What?" The girl responds, a false innocence intermingled with amusement composing her tone. The vibrations of her voice thrum against Tara's neck deliciously, making her breathe hitch briefly. Amber is enjoying the way her girlfriend is trying to keep her head on straight, seeing it as her own personal challenge. Though, at the same time, she's struggling to keep herself in check. She wants to take her sweet time with Tara, wants to watch her struggle to keep her composure. She's positively dying to watch the brunette fall apart in her hands, though, and the anticipation alone is almost enough to make her snap right then and there. Almost.

"The blinds are open." Tara's words are nearly breathless, and she can tell it's something Amber picks up on, feeling the soft lips peppering her skin with kisses curl into a sadistic grin. Despite how her head is beginning to cloud with lust, she's remained collected this entire time. She didn't know how much longer she'd be able to last, though, feeling herself turning to putty in Amber's hands. Finally, she breaks away from the ravenette, hand gently nudging her away, creating just enough space between them for Tara's head to turn, eyes boring into the other's. Her expression was that of desperation, cheeks pink and warm, pupils blown out in response to the surge of dopamine rushing through her.

Amber became quickly disgruntled as she was pushed away, though when her gaze locked onto her girlfriend's pathetic, desperate face, the feeling fizzled away in an instant. It was replaced by something stronger, a reminder of how malleable Tara was when it came to Amber, her need to be pleased outweighing her need to place herself higher than everyone else. Everyone had a weak spot, this was Tara's. "Let's go upstairs, then." She was quick to point out the obvious solution, her words rather snarky. The same grin she'd given before had returned, though this time it was paired with hungry eyes. Amber was the first to move, briskly standing from the couch, reaching down to grasp Tara's hands, pulling her onto her feet. Her physical brawn was often underestimated, though she was much stronger than most assumed.

"Fuck, don't- rip my arms off!" Tara spat, brows furrowing. Amber's impatience wasn't one of her best qualities, and the brunette was often irritated by it. The taller girl didn't seem to be fazed whatsoever by her outburst, but, apparently, she had been. Amber's hands dropped her own, moving swiftly to grasp ahold of her hips instead, drawing Tara closer, until the two of them were pressed together. Immediately, Tara went quiet again, swallowing thickly in an attempt to rid herself of the sudden lump in her throat.

"Don't be so dramatic." Amber hissed, squeezing Tara's hips impossibly tighter, eyeing the girl's expressions as she bit back a wince. Most would become frustrated with the troublesome behavior Tara was displaying, but not Amber. She basked in it, instead. She loved reducing her girlfriend from her high-and-mighty self, all the way down to a pleading, trembling mess. And, the best part, was that she knew Tara enjoyed it too. Although it went unspoken after their rendezvous, the brunette had let enough slip past her lips during the fact.

It'd taken a lot out of Amber to stand there, with Tara in her clutches, and not take her right then and there. She didn't care about the open curtains. She would've fucked her by now, right on the couch, though she knew the windows would've psyched the brunette out too much. So, instead, she found herself leading the smaller girl up the stairs into the familiar space that was Tara's bedroom. Upon reaching the room, and closing the door, Amber turned to face Tara once again, pulling her in the same way she'd done moments ago in the living room. Though, this time, she made quick work interlocking their lips, hands slipping behind Tara to squeeze her ass, earning a moan that would've gone undetected, had it not been pouring into her own mouth.

The room was completely silent, save for the two of them, holding onto one-another seemingly for dear life, sucking in sharp, rushed breaths of air every so often. The two girls seemed to be deprived of one-another, taking in as much of each-other as they could in that moment. Though, it wasn't long before Amber pulled away, growing impatient once more. Her hands slid back up Tara's body, from her ass, to her hips, to her abdomen, nimble fingers slipping beneath the fabric of the brunette's shirt. The way Tara's stomach involuntarily twitched as she grazed her fingertips across the delicate skin was delightful to Amber, who, no matter how many times she'd done it, loved to see the way Tara's body reacted to her touches. She loved to hear it, too.

Sometimes, Tara would get prideful, or shy, and she'd hold back all the beautiful noises Amber sought after. It never lasted long, though. Amber always got everything out of her one way or another. As the two kissed, Amber was slowly guiding the both of them blindly towards where she assumed Tara's bed was, using the instinct she'd built based on the many times she'd been guided to it. Still, her eyes flick open briefly to make sure Tara was in front of it, just to be safe. Amber's hands were quick to slide back out from her girlfriend's shirt, though it was only to lift it off her shoulders.

Tara's arms lifted to aid Amber in her efforts to remove her shirt, lips parting from the girl's briefly to allow the fabric to come between them, before it was littered elsewhere on the floor. Suddenly, Amber's palms were pressed against the front of her shoulders, swiftly shoving her back. Tara's mattress caught her falling body, leaving her splayed on it beneath Amber, staring up at her with a lascivious, wide-eyed expression.

Amber spent a moment taking Tara in, eyes raking across her nearly fully bare chest, hands itching to drag across her warm, delicate skin. Her lips were slightly parted, breathing heavy and uneven as her trance-like stare ceased to falter, the lump in her throat rendering her speechless. She couldn't wait to ruin her. Her eyes flicked from Tara's body, to the girl's doe-like ones, darkening as she was snapped from her thoughts. She moved to seat herself on the bed next to the brunette, reaching over to take hold of her sides, pulling her up from where she laid, and bringing her atop her lap swiftly.

The action made Tara suck in a gasp, cheeks tinging impossibly redder as she locked eyes with Amber once again, this time staring down at her, instead of up. The girl swallowed thickly as Amber shamelessly reached behind her, unclasping her bra in one smooth motion, slender fingers sliding delicately under the straps, sliding them down her arms to expose her chest. Tara's ears caught the familiar, sharp exhale that pushed past Amber's lips the minute she'd managed to slide the bra fully off of her body, hand lazily tossing it aside.

As Amber took in Tara's appearance, her heart seemed to stumble in her chest, beating so hard, and so fast, she was sure it was seconds away from jumping out of her body. Her hands came up to squeeze her girlfriend's breasts gently, ears listening closely for any possible reactions. Her entire body seemed to be on fire, the flames of desire swallowing her whole. She couldn't say much for Tara's mother, but thank god for her trip. With the stress of avoiding parents relieved from their shoulders, an opportunity to truly focus on one another presented itself.

Tara gave a small, nearly inaudible puff of breath, goosebumps spreading across her skin as a shiver ran down her spine. The cool air on her back, and Amber's scorching hands on her chest contrasted perfectly with one another, electrifying her skin in a way nothing else ever could. Her eyelids flutter shut as the sensation of Amber's hands strays from her breasts, trailing further down her body to hold her waist. The ravenette's head dipped forwards, warm lips latching onto Tara's jaw. Simultaneously, the girl's hand pushed her slightly to the right, until Tara was straddling her thigh, instead of just resting on her lap.

Amber's lips kissed along Tara's jawline, teeth nipping at the delectable, delicate skin here and there. As she pampered the brunette with sweet kisses, her hands moved to grip her hips, moving them in a careful, rocking motion, being sure to keep Tara pressed firm against her thigh all the while. She loved knowing that high-and-mighty Tara Carpenter was riding her thigh, and from the looks of it, getting off on it. It thrilled her.

The fabric of Tara's sweatpants was thin, and feeble, doing little to keep the friction Amber was causing at bay. Her back straightened at the sudden, pleasurable sensation, a stuttering, dainty moan crawling from her throat in response to it. She felt Amber's hands tighten their grip on her the minute the sound left her lips, and Tara couldn't help the prideful feeling that came along with the squeeze. Amber was an extremely reactive person, especially when it came to things like this. She loved to push Tara to her limits, and Tara loved to be pushed. She huffed gently as Amber's focus shifted from her throat to her earlobe, teeth biting and tugging at it.

Amber felt as though she'd combust as she continued to grind Tara against her thigh, pulling away from her to gaze up at her instead. The brunette looked so perfect like this, she couldn't get enough. Listening to her whimpers, she could feel herself getting worked up. Though, she didn't plan on removing her clothes tonight. Tonight was all about Tara. She may not know that yet, but she'd figure it out sooner or later. One of her hands left Tara's hip, to come up and clasp her throat instead, her thumb and middle finger pushing against her skin, where the girl's carotid arteries were. The pressure wasn't enough to cut off her airway completely, or hurt her in any way, but it was enough to starve her brain of the perfect amount of oxygen, inducing a lucid, yet semi-hallucinogenic state. "Keep going." Amber nearly growled out, basking in the moan Tara released in response to being choked.

Hearing Amber's words, and feeling her hand squeezing her neck just right, any and all thoughts of disobeying the order she'd just received faded from her brain, and her hips began to rock on their own, eyelids fluttering shut as the pleasure began to build, taking her higher, and higher as the minutes passed. She could feel the band in her stomach tightening, the desperate need for it to snap haunting her. Her motions sped up, body desperate for a greater friction. The minute she picked up the pace, Amber's hand released itself from her throat. The sudden replenishment of oxygen to her brain gave her a sort of high, granting her with the extra pleasure she craved. She sucked in a breath, right on the edge of an orgasm. In that moment, as if she'd sensed it, Amber lifted Tara from her thigh, moving her to lay on her back next to where she was seated, head on her pillows.

Amber was quick to shift her own position, now hovering atop the smaller girl with a wicked, sadistic grin. "You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?" She drawled out in a near whisper, basking in the look Tara had on her face. It was a pissed, frustrated one. She took quick note of the way her girlfriend's lips parted, as if she was about to speak. She'd undoubtedly say something sour, as her precious climax was just stolen from her. "Don't even. You know what I want." Amber beat her to it, head tilting to the side as Tara's jaw flexed. She was clenching it.

"I'm not doing it." Tara spoke, voice faltering ever so slightly.

"Maybe not right now, but you will. You always do." Amber didn't give her the time of day to respond, lips attaching to her collarbone. She suckled lightly on the skin, teeth grazing it lightly to leave behind a mark. She began to trail her lips down Tara's body, moving at an agonizingly slow pace, being sure to leave pink and purple love-bites as she went. When she finally made it to the waistband of her sweatpants, her fingers curled beneath the fabric, tugging on it. She was grateful for the way Tara aided her, lifting her hips and allowing the sweatpants to slide off smoothly, along with her panties. Her palms slid back up the insides of Tara's thighs once the garments were discarded, pushing them further apart from one another. She wasted no further time, head dipping forwards. She licked a stripe between the brunette's folds, to her clit. Her lips wrapped around the delicate bundle of nerves, suckling on it gently.

Tara's body tensed briefly when Amber's head finally slotted between her thighs, a breathless moan exuding from her. Amber groaned at that, and not only did Tara hear it, she felt it. The vibrations of the girl's voice made her head spin, back arching in the slightest. With every suckle, the pleasure she was experiencing grew, traveling throughout her body in the best ways possible. She sucked in a heavy gasp when she felt two long, slender fingers slip into her, hips lifting instinctively against Amber's face. Her head tipped back, lips parted as she panted, brows knitted together as she allowed herself to submit to the overwhelming, climbing satisfaction.

There was no place Amber would rather be, besides here. With her lips wrapped around her girlfriend's clit, middle and ring fingers buried deep inside her, palm facing up, digits moving in a 'come hither' motion, searching for the raised, textured spot she knew would have Tara clawing the sheets. It didn't take her long to locate it, the pads of her fingers pressing against it, taking the time to massage it. Her ears caught the sound of a sharp, stuttering moan, followed by the sound of struggled whimpering. Tara was holding out on her. Amber hated when she did that. She gave a frustrated groan against the girl's clit, grazing her bottom teeth against it harshly. Tara jolted at that, a sharp cry crawling from the back of her throat. That was what Amber had been dying to hear.

When Tara cried out, a few tears sprung from her eyes, the sudden, painful feeling being nearly overwhelming. Though, she didn't have the chance to comment on it, or scold Amber for the move she'd just pulled, as the girl slotted between her thighs detached her lips from her clit, replacing her mouth with the pad of her thumb, which began to massage smooth circles against the sensitive nub, making Tara's body shudder. Her dazed eyes locked onto Amber's hungry, dark ones, and the brunette began to shrink further under the intimidating gaze. By now, she'd lost all control of herself, drunk on the beautiful sensations wracking her body.

"I want to hear you." Amber hissed out, thumb speeding up ever so slightly in its circular motions, fingers matching its pace. "Stop holding out on me, Tara, or I'll hold out on you." The threat carried weight, a sour undertone lacing her voice. She noticed the few tears running down Tara's cheeks, glossing her big brown eyes perfectly. She looked so beautifully pathetic unraveling under the ravenette's hands. A sight to see, Tara was. Though this was for her own eyes only, nobody else could ever rest their gaze upon her in such a way as this. If they tried, she'd kill them. The feeling of Tara's walls clamping around her fingers, and the sound of the hitch in her stunning moans and cries were telltale signs of her approaching climax. "Look at me. Look at me." She growled out when Tara's eyes began to lull back, successfully catching her attention once more. "Give me what I want, or I'll stop. I want to hear you beg for it."

Tara was too far gone to disobey, her brain's focus centered solely on the release she craved. It was almost primal, an instinct every human being had. Everyone needed to be pleased, she was no different. Her thighs trembled, breath catching in her throat. "Fuck- please! Please, please!-" She could hardly choke the words out, before her head tossed itself back into her pillows, back arching as her entire body seized, tensing as the tight band coiled in the pit of her stomach neared it's snapping point. Her hands curled into fists, stomach caving as she sucked in a heavy breath, her lungs refusing to release it.

"Stop holding your fucking breath!" Amber snapped quickly. Apparently, the reminder to breathe was all Tara needed.

When the brunette exhaled, it escaped her as a heavy, blissful moan, the waves of her orgasm slamming her petite body like a Mack Truck. A string of incoherent words sputtered past her lips in the midst of her desperate cries, a few more tears pricking from her ducts, sliding down her heated cheeks and onto the pillows beneath her. Amber's skilled, nimble fingers kept working her over, until Tara couldn't take it any longer, reaching to shove the girl's hands away as she very quickly became overstimulated.

Amber gave a grin as Tara batted her hands away, detaching them from the girl's body graciously. She'd have loved to keep going, and watch Tara's already trembling body take on another orgasm, or three, but she'd save those plans for another time. She'd been enough of an asshole for one night. Hurriedly, Amber wiped Tara's slick from her fingers, tilting her head as she observed the girl beneath her, who was trembling like a leaf. Her cheeks and lips were pink, and puffy, eyes watery and glossy. Her thumbs came up to brush the tears away from her girlfriend's cheeks, the gesture a loving one. "You look so pretty when you cry, baby." Amber practically purred, leaning down to plant one last, affectionate kiss against Tara's lips, before falling into bed next to the brunette, pulling her shaking body flush against her own, arm curling around the girl's waist to hold her.

#amber freeman #mikey madison #tamber #scream #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #smut #wlw

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hua-fei-hua · 4 years

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Extra Notes: Music of the Moment Ch. 5

chapter can be read on ao3 or ff.net

i chose wouldn’t it be nice by the beach boys bc i liked the idea of kaminari wishing for a time when all the work was done and he n jirou could just be together lol

and also bc i see him as this ridiculous, daydreamy, almost hopeless romantic kind of guy at times, and so i can see him just sighing “wouldn’t it be nice if everything just solved itself for me”

poor sero. this chapter is just the beginning of his existence in what i like to call the “knows jack shit circle”

it is also lonely in the “knows jack shit circle” bc he is its only member

the comment from kiri abt how if they tried to pencil in sero they’d be waiting until winter break is foreshadowing

the baritones n trombones were combined into one section when i was in band, and they were jokingly called the “baribones”

less relevant, but when i was in eighth grade, i once actually walked about a mile up and down hills with a friend w/a baritone case bc the band director locked the cabinets before anyone could put their instruments away lol. i was a choir kid at the time, but anyway yeah i know how much a baritone in its case weighs. (even if most of the weight is just the case ugh)

more under the cut~

our practice rooms were very very good at muffling shit to the outside world (aka the band room), but very very bad at muffling shit to the neighbors. when i hung out in practice rooms for lunch, i could often hear the neighbors practicing very clearly, if they were practicing at all

it’s not a super important detail, and there’s only one point i can think of that would make it maybe a little bit relevant

this is the only au i will (hopefully) ever write where m*neta is even implied to exist. this was bc the whole “WHY DON’T YOU JUST TELL THEM???” plot hole needed to be fixed bc my sister is a communications major and now my default response to any situation is talking about it

however, just bc it was to fix a glaring plot hole doesn’t mean i have to like or appreciate his inclusion >:C

talking in practice rooms during will be a trend present in the fic. why? bc most of my important talks happened in practice rooms during lunch

this chapter was actually meant to be a bit of a ~montage~ of just kaminari and kirishima’s adventures in trying to confirm jirou as kaminari’s soulmate

that’s why the segments were all a little short and had timeskips between all of them

this won’t be the last montage chapter, although i will admit that this one went on longer than i expected. i considered including the homecoming pep rally as the last segment here, but decided against it in the end.

i don’t know if other bands do the band council thing or not, but we definitely do. maybe it’s a residual effect of us being considered a club

anyway, what this means is that once a week, the drum majors, “executive council” (i.e. the pres, vp, secretary, and treasurer), the section leaders, as well as the interclub council (icc) rep, a uniform manager, and three first year reps got together w/the band director every wednesday during lunch

when i was a junior, before the previous BD retired, everyone was kicked out of the band room (unless it was raining that day (cali bitch kids remember) or you personally promised the BD to be practicing veeeery very quietly) and they had their council meetings.

when i was a senior, i was part of council for about three months as percussion rep due to some major political drama involving one of my close friends (the band president, also in percussion), her friend the vice president (who had his own can of worms backstory baggage i don’t have time to get into now), and the major struggle against the new band director to be heard and taken seriously.

i’m serious when i say this was intense as fuck, and like i mentioned in my notes for chapter three, it’s what inspired the background subplot w/fuwa-senpai

anyway, people were just allowed in and out of the band room during those council meetings and it was a god damn mess, so i think you guys get why i based band council off the well-oiled machine i’d observed in my junior year

most of the kids in this au are learning japanese in school bc like. heritage, obviously

it’s not super uncommon, for there to be language barriers (of varying degrees) btwn kids and their parents where i come from, at least among the asian population. most kids speak varying degrees of cantonese w/varying amounts of correctness. some have their parents speak to them in the parents’ native language and the kids respond in english. some are fully bilingual, just illiterate.

side note, i was both lucky and unlucky to be biracial. lucky, bc i have a well-educated native english speaker as one parent, and so i had an advantage going into school. i was hella privileged in learning. unlucky, bc i had no need to pick up on mandarin bc both my parents are fluent bilinguals and would speak to my sister and i in english (and to each other in mandarin)

basically, in my experience, being a first gen often means losing your parents’ native language, and that’s not something i’m going to just ignore in this fic. to a certain extent, this fic is just transforming my high school life into art. you can frankly get a very good idea of what my high school life was like by reading this fic.

anyway, basically what i’m saying here is that this is why basically all the kids are taking japanese in this au. some are in ap bc they skipped the first year as freshmen, some are in their third year (japanese 5/6) bc they started from the bottom.

i don’t know at what point i’d seen the headcanon that kirishima was raised by a lesbian couple, but i’m super on-board w/it

idk why i decided they’d be specifically viet in this au, but i guess a bit of it would be an excuse to follow my gut feeling that kirishima would take spanish in this au, since he doesn’t have as much of a language barrier w/his parents

anyway yeah it’s not even plot relevant just a fun detail i decided to put in

they have an 8ball in their discord server in this au bc my friends and i have an 8ball in our discord server, and that 8ball predicted my entire drama around almost having a fake boyfriend in my senior year so like. yeah

we use that 8ball to make life decisions sometimes.

the bot was called NekoBot, by the way, and it also used the n! prefix like in the fic, but we recently kicked that bot out for insolence and got a new, more certifiably Cultured(tm) 8ball

i actually have a bunch of dumb discord headcanons to go with this au. they’re really dumb but man if they’re not fun

the reason i picked careless whisper specifically for kaminari to play here is not only a reference to the fic summary.

we had a flute player in band who figured out how to play careless whisper (and later, megalovania) by ear on his flute, which inspired both the summary and bit going on in this chapter

mina shouting “FUCK yeah” is actually the first time i’ve let any of the characters swear.

i like to think that aizawa calling her out on her language implies that he knows everything that’s going on but just chooses to stay out of it

it’s like in chapter four when he clearly can tell that smth’s bothering jirou, but chooses not to press the issue and trust in her ability

i do not recommend doing that to anyone in a jirou-type situation tho. go for it in a kaminari-type situation, bc that’s just dumb teenagers being dumb teenagers, but a hands-off approach isn’t the best one in all situations imo

wow okay this was actually a lot more notes than i was expecting lol. got any reactions or further questions? send ‘em to my askbox!!

next chapter will be out next friday~

#hua's vanity #w/o you Bb #Bb notes: music of the moment #Bb notes: perfect harmony #band was wild in my senior year y'all #it was the setting for all my wildest shenanigans #and the craziest part was that i knew where things could have gone if we didn't step up and speak out from the start #bc a similar thing happened to speech when i was a freshman: we got a new speech coach #and the seniors were very wary of her and probably had more tension w/them than i realized as a freshman #that's why i spoke up. bc i was in speech. i knew what could happen if i didn't and it was what i knew to do #but i wasn't in a position of power in band. one of my friends was band pres yeah but... she was afraid of rocking the boat #things had blown up in her face in the past when she'd spoken up or rocked the boat so she always tried to solve things behind closed doors #and i respected her more than pretty much anyone else in school and so when she told me 'don't make a show out of this' i obeyed #i mean i fucking would have; the times when i did speak up (abt more trivial things) others would tell me i was doing the right thing #bc they were too afraid of trouble and of speaking out to do it themselves #and like man my dudes if someone needs a voice i WILL be there to speak for them #SILENCE IS GOLDEN BUT SPEAKING IS PRICELESS #if there is ANYTHING you ever take away from interacting with me PLEASE LET IT BE THAT #(yes i'm very passionate abt this and i will not apologize for that)

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years

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Just Like You Like It

Song Inspired

George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Light Smut. A curse word.

George could tell y/n was stressed, he didn't have to be told. He could see it; he were the first to notice. The way she shut down. How much shorter she'd become with everyone. How the smallest of inconveniences could set her off.

Her hair was constantly a mess from the amount of times her fingers tugged, pulled and ran through it. She gave up wearing make-up to avoid the way it smudged as her hands frequently dug, clawed and rubbed at her face in frustration.

He wondered if she even noticed how cold their relationship had become. The spark between them which raged within their chests as an all comsuming flame; diminished to less than an ember. Still alight but too weak to any longer feel it's warmth.

Though they shared the same bed every night he'd never felt further apart. He missed her. Her new routine left him hanging at a distance.

She'd wake up, shower, get changed and leave. No words spoken. No smile on her face. No kiss good morning or kiss goodbye. The nights were no easier. She'd arrive home late, disappear to the study, then later crawl into bed beside him well past midnight. No conversation. No kiss goodnight.

He could barely remember the last time they'd touched let alone had a meal together. George had been patient hoping this were simply a rough patch, that things would fall back into place eventually. This morning however, was his breaking point.

As he woke to an empty bed, the sound of running water coming from the bathroom just like many mornings before, he reddied himself for work. As he pulled on a fresh suit for the day something caught his ears. A sound which, though muffled, were undeniably caused from distress. He stepped closer to the bathroom, leaning towards the door and listening intently. Sobs and strained breaths cursed the air. George felt his heart be ripped from his chest in that moment. He made to open the door but stopped himself, he weren't even sure how to comfort her anymore. Things were evidently far worse than he feared what if, by barging in on her in this time, he made matters worse unintentionally?

He restrained himself, giving her the space she most likely needed right now, though determined to fix things. It was time. No more waiting for things to sort themselves out.

He sat patiently on the edge of their bed for her to come out, preparing to have the difficult conversation.

Later she emerged, fully clothed for work with eyes still puffy. He stood, words forming on the tip of his tongue, but she wouldn't even look at him. Like he weren't there. Simply grabbing her keys and wallet from off the chest of draws, muttering a lame 'I'll be home late' and leaving as swiftly as she'd entered.

He was too slow. Too hesitant. His brows furrowed, staring after her with parted lips. Dread began to fill his heart, thickly being pumped throughout his bloodstream. How could he fix this?

That evening y/n slowly made her way home, like many before it were well past the time she ought to be arriving home. Her body felt too heavy for her legs to carry. Back aching as did her feet, with shoulders unbelievably tense from several large knots taken root in her muscles. Rubbing at them frustratedly as she walked her eyes shut tight in pain whilst brimming with tears. This was one of the worst times of her life, everything that could go wrong did and it seemed unlikely ever to resolve. With no sign of her ridiculous work load easing. The state of her currently crumpling relationship. Now even her body were turning against her.

She was hungry, not having ate properly in days. Tired, her sleep restless and tormenting. Her head ached continuously and she found herself on the brink of tears or an emotional outburst given any moment.

As her key turned in it's lock she pushed the door open preparing for yet another night spent in the study. Closing her eyes she inhaled sharply, the very thought causing a sickness to settle in her stomach. There was something different about tonight though.

As her lungs filled, she felt herself relax considerably. A content sigh slipping from her lips as she exhaled slowly. Opening her eyes, they travelled over the flat to find her favourite candles were scattered and alight, the flicker of their flames the only source of light within the space. As she stepped across the doors thresholds y/ns breath was stolen from her. Finding not only her favourite candles but countless bunches of her favourite flowers lining the tables and windowsill. Additional flower petals littered the floor, leading like a pathway to the fire escape.

As her head peaked from the window her ears were met with the soft melodic sounds of distance music. Climbing from the windowsill she ascended the staircase. Reaching the top and quietly stepping over the roofs lining y/n was blown away once again. More flowers decorated the space beautifully while a few small candles lit a table at the roofs centre. The music was clearer now, quiet but loud enough for her to recognise. Her favourite slow songs.

A bottle of wine and two glasses sat atop the small table in front of her, her fingers delicately traced the bottles label.

A warmth began to spread through her body from a presence behind her. Two strong hands gently moved over her waist, encapsulating her entirely in an embrace. Y/n gave herself to the hold, leaning back into his chest and relishing in the heat that fanned her skin from his hot breath and the soft trace of his nose against her neck until finally his lips came to connect with her nape. Her arms fell atop of his, where his fingers slowly moved against the fabric of her shirt. She sighed contently, the sound only just audible with the low hum of the music which played.

Her brows furrowed at the feeling of his lips and one arm leaving her body. The light pop of the wine bottles cork and the trickle of liquid filling two glasses, generously, which followed was enough to bring the smile back to her lips and finally she opened her eyes again to accept the beverage before her.

Though one hand still remained attached to her hip George moved to stand in front of her with a sly grin as he clinked their glasses together ceremoniously.

"You've been busy today" she smiled, sipping her wine. "You've been busy everyday." His face was stern at the thought, heart no less heavy as he watched her head fall at his words. The hand on her waist came to cup her chin, bringing her attention back to him. His thumb gently stroked her jaw as he spoke, "Did you think I hadn't noticed?". Tears fell from her eyes. His expression bore so sorrowfully into her soul she felt laid bare. "I'm sorry" "It's not your fault, sweetheart." A soft smile replaced the concern filled expression he wore moments ago, "I just wish you'd give yourself a break. Talk to me if something's the matter."

Her cheek pressed against his palm as he wiped away the stray tears, but more fell as she closed her eyes.

"Come here", George grabbed her glass, setting both drinks down on the table, and lead her away a few paces. He pulled her into his chest, one hand on her waist while the other held hers in a firm grasp. She looked at him confusedly, only causing him to smile cheekily back. That's when he began to lead her in a slow dance. Y/n chuckled at this, unable to help the eye roll and wide smile to stretch upon her face at how cheesey this all now seemed.

Gazing back into his eyes fondly they continued to sway in time with the gentle melody which filled the air. Y/ns cheek rested against Georges chest as his chin laid atop her head. Fresh tears lined her eyes now. Different from the ones before. Tears of love. Pure, unfiltered and all consuming.

They held close together like two shadows in the dark, illuminated solely by candle light. The spark in their chests burning like a flame, lighting the night for them in an entirely other way. Rekindling the love in their hearts that hadn't been felt in so long.

"I can't believe you did all this for me" y/n voiced honestly, unable to see how she was deserving of such a guesture.

"This is for me right? I didn't just spoil some intimate night with your mistress did I?" She joked looking up to him. "Funny." George rolled his eyes at this.

"Love, everything I do is for you." "You're really laying on all the charm tonight aren't you? Wine, candles, dancing..." Y/n quipped, loving every second. "Pouring it on strong and smooth. Just like you like it." He leant down, capturing her lips in a deep kiss.

Arms wrapped around his neck as others rested around her sides. The kiss was broken in pieces as y/n tried to speak but George was reluctant to let her, only a word coming through at a time, he understood her nonetheless, "Where's Fred tonight?" She'd asked. This question successfully putting an end to his neediness for their lips on one anothers. Leaning back with a raised brow, an expression which read 'really?'.

"You know, as inseparable as we are love, I was sort of hoping we could do this without him actually." He chuckled. Y/n rolled her eyes. "He's out. Out of the apartment and out of our way." His lips found hers again while she smiled.

George rested his forehead against hers, "We've got all night long, so tell me what you want." Y/n stood, breathing him in while she thought. A decision made as a smile spread over her features. She licked her lips in anticipation, unable to hide the eagerness in her eyes. Feeling playful, she spoke in a teasingly slow and sultry tone, "What I'd love, more than anything is a nice, long, and hot bath." Georges brow raised along with his signature mischeivous grin. She placed a tender kiss to his lips, which he reciprocated and deepened hungrily.

George nudged her towards the fire escape, signalling for her to head inside and placing a quick playful slap to her ass as she left and he grabbed the wine from the table. With a flick of his wand the candles all extinguished and the music faded to an end.

Steam encompassed the white tiled bathroom as hot water filled the bath tub. Y/n stood at its edge, in only her white singlet and underwear - other clothes already discarded, tying her hair into a messy bun before checking the water weren't too hot. She'd taken a couple candles from the living room and scattered loose flower petals across the waters surface.

George entered quietly, leaning against the door frame, balancing the wine glasses in one hand as the bottle hung low in his other.

His eyes traced her neck, light condensation glistening over her skin. His head tilted, examining the rest of her body with a sigh. She turned, feeling his eyes on her to which she playfully raised an eyebrow. He smiled, running his bottom lip through his teeth before placing the wine by the side of the tub. He held himself straight, towering before her while his eyes fixed directly to her features.

Slowly brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear then letting his fingers trace down her neck and travelling down slowly between her breasts coming to the end seam of her t-shirt. Both hands gripped the thin material to pull it over her head.

Y/n now reached to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. Leaving his torso as bare as hers. Fingers toyed with with his belt as the two stared into each others eyes ridding the final items of clothing. Y/n stepped into the water pulling George with her.

A content moan unashamedly voiced as they sank beaneath the water, heat immediately help to soothe her aching body. George sat behind her, running hands delicately across her body. Cupping hand fulls of water to run over her shoulders. The sensation causing her head to fall back into his chest. He took advantage of her position, lightly kissing the crook of her neck as his hands massaged her back then shoulders. Tension melting away with every dedicated and tender movement of his thumbs against her muscles. When the last knot had eased from her shoulders he pulled her into his body completely, laying back so she were beside him cuddling as they had so many times on the sofa.

Though the water surrounding them began to cool, things between them only got hotter. Starting with innocent and loving kisses to her temple and light touches tracing one anothers body, soon both knew they needed more.

Y/n made to straddle him. The kiss starting tenderly, filled with love, but in no time George was sitting upright leaning into her body as they kissed passionately. Hungrily. Y/n grinding slightly against his lap, chest pushed flush against his eliciting a deep growl from her lover.

He wrapped a firm grip around her body, lifting them both from the water and stepping out of the bath. Y/ns hands placed to his cheeks, kissing him feverishly while he made the blind journey to their bed. Y/n chuckled as he dropped them onto the mattress eagerly, soaking the sheets in the process. Their bodies entangled in perfect rhythm. With George paying particular attention to her wants and needs, ones he hadn't met in so long. She was a mess beneath him with every loving and gentle caress of her skin. Every soft whisper in her ear. The way his lips connected with her neck. Exploring her as if it were the last time he'd get to do so. Touching her so delicately as if she were glass figurine. Breathtakingly beautiful, but fragile and likely to break. His pace slow but firm, eyes scrunched tight together while his breaths fell heavy through parted lips. Relishing in the heat that fans his skin as she breathes his name. Pure ecstacy igniting the flame in their hearts further, burning under one anothers touch. Her nails rake his shoulders as they peak together. Arms shaking as he struggles to hold his body from hers. Breathless and heavy above her, his lips capture hers again in a slow and tired kiss.

They lay beside each other in the after glow, comfortable silence encapsulating them. Until George is pulling her from the bed at the talk of dinner, lazily throwing on a singlet and boxers as she pulls on his jumper and a pair of knickers.

He sits her at the dinner table while he reddied the meal he'd prepared earlier not expecting the nights events to unfold as they had but loving it either way.

Y/n sipped a fresh glass of wine contently, unable to wipe the love struck smile from her face. Staring into the deep burgundy which swirled within her glass, deep in thought over the man currently pattering about the kitchen. Reminiscing on the past events, ones from this evening to as far back as when they'd begun dating. Every thought completely occupied by him and him alone.

She was brought to the present by a plate being sat in front of her. Another of her favourites. George placed a gentle kiss to her cheek and whispered into her ear, lips pressing against her soft hair, before taking seat beside her. She bit her lip in attempt to contain the wide grin forming across her features at the words,

"Just like you like it."

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almostmaybealways · 4 years

Text

Oh How The Mighty Have Fallen

Alexandra Simmons.... Agent of SHIELD. Missing in action since 1963, she's given up hope on ever being rescued. Turned into a weapon for the very organization she vowed to end, HYDRA seems to have the upper hand. Until the Avengers that is. Now, Alex must learn to adapt to a new century, a new way of life, and a new team desperate to help her move on from her past. And who knows? Maybe she just might find love along the way. Only, things aren't ever the way they seem, are they?

Steve RogersxOC

SLOW BURN

Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvel Franchise, only my OC Alexandra Simmons

TRIGGER WARNING: Depression, mentions of torture, and other dark themes will be discussed in this book. Please DON'T read if this may be triggering.

***To read more of this story and my other works, please please go to Wattpad and search for my profile, @piecesofhome.****

——-

Prologue

Everyone has a preconceived idea of what it means to be a superhero. Most think of the grandeur, the fame and fortune that comes with saving the world.

They don't think about the sacrifice. Or the days where you can't get out of bed because you're too caught up in the decisions you shouldn't have made. The lives that were lost along the way.

Truth is, most heroes are broken. They've lost more than any one person should ever have to endure and yet, they persist. For you. And for me. And if they're lucky, they might be able to find small minuscule shreds of happiness along the way, though it's rare. Heroism isn't glamorous.

It's tragic.

But between the tragedy and the happiness are these small seemingly insignificant moments that can change everything. They make you stop, take a minute, and reflect on your choices. How did you end up here?

For Steve Rogers, that moment was when he began to plummet into oblivion from a destroyed Hellicarrier. And when the water washed over him, stealing his breath and darkening his vision, he thought. He thought about his life, about his friend that seemed oh so lost. And he thought about that beautiful woman he left back in 1943. And Steve Rogers welcomed the darkness.

But life was cruel.

With the sound of soft jazz, Steve Rogers was welcomed back into the twenty-first century. He looked to see his friend Sam Wilson next to him, reading a magazine. And yet, he had hoped to see a different friend at his bedside. A fake smile was plastered onto his face, fake happiness in his tone, everything was fake. Steve Rogers had been faking since he came out of the ice. Not that he'd admit it.

"I hope you weren't planning on getting any rest." Sam's face was solemn as he fished a piece of paper from Steve's soaked uniform.

"Your friend? He left you this. The nurse's found it when they were changing you." As Steve's eyes roved over the small slip of paper, his eyes hardened, a hard set making it's way into his jaw. On it, was a set of coordinates, coordinates that would change everything he thought he knew. Underneath, two words. Help Her.

---

For Alexandra Simmons, her moment was the day she shook Howard Stark's hand for the first time. That had been the beginning of everything. It had been the beginning of her hell on earth. And now, as she sat chained inside her cell, water dripping from the ceiling above, she silently prayed today would be the day they decided to put her out of her misery.

But this day was merciful.

Gunfire permeated the silence, panic washing over the faces of each scientist outside her cell. Mumblings passed through the room, soon turning to loud shouts and screams. Files and various other papers were shoved into coat pockets, her form being forgotten as they attempted to escape whatever, or whoever, was coming. Clanging bars caused her to look towards the door, rough hands yanking her upwards. Her body was weak, too weak to resist, but this wasn't any normal relocation.

And Alexandra was not a quitter.

Thin hands grabbed ahold of rusted metal, knuckles turning white, teeth gritting in determination as she remained steadfast and unmoving. Her efforts were met with a literal slap to the face, a ring splitting her lip.

And Alexandra smiled.

It was almost sadistic, the grin she let spread across her mouth. The grin eventually developed into full laughter, eyes focused on something behind the man's head. A sickening crunch sounded, a large red stain blooming on the scientist's red coat as a blade was thrust from his chest. A splash of red swept across Alexandra's face, red that for once wasn't hers. Her knees began to shake, vision swimming as she attempted to look at her saviors. But the uniform that greeted her had been retired long ago. It was impossible. Unless it wasn't.

Her recovery had been slow. At first, she spent time in what Steve could only call total catatonia. She was awake. Her eyes were open, fixed on the pristine white ceiling above her head. Banner had said it was trauma, that what she'd been through was easier to cope with if she didn't allow herself to be awake.

Her photo had been compared to missing persons all across the world, the results staggering. They'd expected many things, a grieving family, an innocent woman who had nothing to do with their life. A missing SHIELD agent from the 60's wasn't it. The doctors didn't know how she was even alive. Besides the fact that she was supposed to be in her seventies, the effects of torture were more than obvious. Scars, burns, and various bruises mapped their way across her skin, telling various stories Steve would rather not have to hear. They called it pure determination to live. Tony had called her too stubborn to die. Banner took her blood after the first week to try and figure out what they'd done to her. After a month of her being unresponsive, they'd declared her a lost cause.

Steve Rogers didn't believe in lost causes.

Bucky had proven he was still in there somewhere, still fighting against who he'd been forced to become. And if he could overcome. So could she. So Steve did the only thing he knew how to do. He sat next to her bedside between missions, and simply talked. He went over his most recent missions, the terrible and the good that came with being a superhero.

One day she smiled.

His eyes had widened, grinning as she turned her head to look at him for the first time. She said nothing, but she didn't have to. Progress was being made.

The second month she sat up for the first time. Her muscles were stiff and sore, protesting to the movement. But with his help, she'd persisted.

The third month she'd gotten out of bed for the first time. Her legs had shaken and trembled at the unfamiliar movement. But she was determined. She'd yet to speak, but Steve knew she was listening intently to each word he uttered.

By the fourth month Steve looked forward to his visits with her. The most she'd done was smile at him, her eyes gleaming with joy at every spoken sentence. Until one day when he told her about the battle of New York, how Tony had grabbed a Nuke and carried it through the wormhole to space.

"I knew his father, Howard." Her voice had been rough, broken from going unused, but it was audible. He'd looked at her with such pride that day.

The rest of the team had slowly introduced themselves after that. Her reaction to Thor had been almost childlike, eyes wide, glittering with happiness and laughter. It had blown up his ego far too much. She'd been intimidated by Natasha, the redhead's fiery personality a stark contrast to her current state. Clint's rough exterior had terrified her at first, but the first smile he sent her way made her relax entirely. Tony had been.....well....his usual self, but his antics made her laugh joyously. She and Banner had gotten along quite well, their intellect complimenting each other. And Steve, well, he liked to consider himself her friend. I guess that's where our story begins. A broken agent, a ninety-seven-year-old superhero, and a team of misfits, somehow coming together to bring down the most notoriously evil organization in the world. And it was going to be quite a ride.

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