The Empress (II)

the empress (II)

MY MASTERLIST | PART ONE

This fic is inspired by the Empress card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot

pairing(s): helmut zemo x reader

summary: So You're Babysitting Your Ex's Pet Villain: How to Demoralize Yourself in 8 Easy Steps

words: 5,666

warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI), smut, this part has all the good shit, dom!reader, sub!zemo, unprotected sex (no stated use of contraception), oral sex, cunnilingus, praise kink, degradation kink, roleplay, mistress & servant type thing, exhibitionism, riding, the reader makes zemo her bitch

additional notes: this is the second part of my 12k+ word fic that needed to be broken into two separate posts because it exceeded the word limit by A Lot. It is posted on AO3 in its original format, as a single chapter fic.

taglist blog: @rosemareblogs

.VII.

You don’t sleep that night.

You could blame the alcohol. Or, you could blame the screaming fire in your core, trying to pull you off your bed, out the door and down the hall to where you know the Baron lies in his own bedroom, probably half naked and wonderfully upright.

You slip in and out of consciousness, but never truly give in to the other side of sleep. It’s too hot beneath the sheets. You can hear Bruno’s asthmatic wheezing at the foot of the bed, and it seems like it’s booming throughout the cavern of the master bedroom.

When you rouse early in the morning to let the dog limp out of the room and down the hall, the alcohol hasn’t entirely worked its way out of your system, and has left you with the disorientation of a mild hangover. You’re not stumbling, but you’re parched, and so ravenous that the emptiness of your stomach lends itself to nausea.

Your movements are jerky and a little bit too slow as you move through the kitchen. By the time you rip open a fresh package of bacon, the pain in your stomach is so strong you think you might kill someone.

And that’s precisely when Artemis comes trundling into the kitchen, howling like she’s being tortured.

She hops onto the counter to investigate what you’re doing as you begin slicing the cuts of bacon, a frying pan already heating on the stove. She butts at your hand to try and get at the fragrant meat, giving you an indignant, “MRROW.”

You affect an unamused glare. “What, you think you’re the only horny one in this house?”

“May I offer some assistance?” comes the Baron’s voice.

Your ears start to ring with the rush of blood to your head as you turn to find Zemo standing two feet from you with a coy smirk on his face, holding a glass of water. When you blink at him, he opens his palm and gestures for you to give him the knife in exchange for the water.

You take the glass, and press the flat of the blade into his outstretched palm. He wordlessly nudges you to the side and begins to slice the bacon with such quick, careful precision that the fluid motion mesmerizes you for a second.

As you sip the water, your eyes follow the line of his hand up to his strong forearm, bared to you by his rolled sleeves, and further up until your eyes settle on his face. The scratches on his cheekbone are still bright red, but seem to have sealed up in the night.

The flapping of wings at the window heralds Dodie’s arrival, and you snatch up a piece of the raw bacon before Zemo can manage to cut it. The raven titters at you as you hold the scrap out to it, and you nudge your knuckle affectionately against its plumage. “Good morning, my love.”

You hear Zemo’s meditative hum from behind you. “So that’s who you presume to be meant for love.”

“Please, Baron. Animals are innocent souls,” you tell him easily as you stroke the raven’s beak. “They’re all worthy of love.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Helmut?’”

You pause as Dodie takes flight, feeling your blood humming through your veins with such a fever you think you may be turning red. His voice is quiet, much like it had been when he first spotted Nerissa, like he might not have meant for you to hear him say it.

But you turn to him, and he’s not looking at the stove or the knife, or anything else. He’s looking at you.

“Do you want me to call you ‘Helmut?’”

He considers you for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning you with growing warmth, like you can see a fire being lit within his irises. But then they go cold, and they drop to the stove without warning.

“What I want makes no difference,” he states with clinical detachment. “Perhaps it is best that you call me ‘Baron.’”

“Why is that?”

“Because, I made a promise to James,” he explains, and his voice has garnered a rough edge. “A promise that he told me to remember.”

Bucky’s parting snarl rings through your mind. ‘You remember what I told you, right?’

“What was that promise?”

“That I would remain a stranger to you.” He continues to conduct himself about the stove, tossing the bacon as if the conversation is of little importance to him. “And that if I don’t, it is with the understanding that he will, and I quote, ‘cut off my balls and use them as a hacky sack.’”

A litany of emotions bombard you at once, freezing you in space without any way to reply. First comes flattery, at the fact that Bucky still feels protective of you in some regard. Second, anger, because it’s not his place to be protective of you when he didn’t want to remain with you.

And third, frustration. Because now that he’s successfully gotten under your skin, Zemo’s doing the fucking right thing.

“And you intend to honor that?” It seems ridiculous that he would, considering Bucky’s “warning” sounds more like a schoolyard taunt and less like an actual threat.

But Zemo looks at you, and smiles warmly. “Yes, dragă, I do.”

You nod slowly, eyes falling to the floor, chewing on your lip because you can feel your frustration rising to the surface. “Are you trying to be a good man, Baron?”

He barks a laugh, and turns to look at you.

“In my life, I have been many things. A good man is not one of them.” Though he keeps his face evenly measured, you can see something pained within his gaze. “However, I shall make a valiant effort.”

You suck on your tongue as you watch him turn the stove off and plate the horrendous amount of bacon you’d decided to make in your stupor.

“I’m disappointed,” you say, just as he sets the plate beside you on the counter. He’s not a foot away from you now, and as you stare challengingly up into his eyes, you can see every little deviation his face makes.

“Are you, indeed?” He tilts his head slightly, and his lips turn up at the corners.

“Yes.” Taking the plate from him, you let your fingertips brush his, where they linger on the porcelain. “Here I thought I was supposed to be keeping a dangerous villain in line.”

You watch his pupils dilate dramatically, and a smile breaks across your face. That’s what you were looking for. Last night his eyes weren’t blown completely black because he was frightened of your pet snake. He liked that you were in control.

The low timbre of his voice vibrates through the air around you. “Didn’t you say that I do well when I listen?”

You hum, and slide around him with newfound purpose, allowing your fingers to trail innocently along the line of his belt. “Come to me when you decide who it is you want to listen to, Baron.”

You smile to feel his eyes scorching your back as you exit the kitchen.

.VIII.

The Baron is already out of breath.

You can’t imagine the inner dialogue he’s been through to get to this point, but the look on his face is earnest, like he’s two seconds from begging you on his knees. You allow yourself to smile at the thought.

You haven’t done anything to him. Not yet, anyways, but you can tell by the way he stands at the threshold of the conservatory with his fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving and his eyes trained solidly on you, that it won’t be long before you do. Because he’s just played right into your hand, as you knew he would.

Bucky knew he would, too. Because the same thing happened with him, and history tends to repeat itself.

“Have you given up your valiant effort so soon?” You recline in your high backed chair, not unlike a queen upon her throne.

“It seems my villainy knows no bounds.”

Nerissa is asleep, coiled into a pile on the shelf of culinary herbs, but you don’t think he cares by the way he threw open the doors with barely contained desperation.

He steps into the room.

“Did I give you permission to enter?”

The Baron halts, hands flexing at his sides. “No, dragă.”

“Dragă?”

Behind you, rain dashes against the darkened conservatory windows, rippling down the glass like a waterfall. In the silence that hangs throughout the room, thunder can be heard echoing from the valley. You wonder how long it will take him to address you correctly, or if you’ll have to guide him there.

“No… Empress.”

You incline your head toward the Baron’s rigid form. “Very good. You are a smart boy. Now,” you cross your legs to tease him with the fact that you’re wearing nothing beneath your robe, “have you decided what you want me to call you? Baron, or Helmut?”

“Helmut,” he says almost too quickly. He’s all too eager, likely from a culmination of years locked in a prison cell without any contact, combined with whatever internal crisis he’s been having all day to break his resolve so quickly.

For that fact, you’re just as tightly wound as he is, the pulsing in your core echoing the way his trousers are nicely tented below his belt. But you’re not going to rush things along. He strikes you as a patient man.

You’d like to test that theory.

“So, you don’t want to remain strangers.” You run the tip of your finger along your lip, mostly to stop yourself from nervously tapping it against the arm of the chair. In testing his patience, you’re also testing your own. “You seem to have an issue following orders.”

“That depends on who’s giving them.”

You raise your eyebrows. Normally you would bark at him for speaking without being spoken to, but you do love to hear his rasping voice. “Do you think you’ll be able to follow my orders, Helmut?”

His eyes glow gold in the dim light. “Yes, Empress.”

“Then you may come closer.”

It’s a dance, trying to hide your own need while also feeding off of his. He crosses the room slowly, trying to conceal how his hands twitch to reach out to you. He stops just short of your crossed legs.

“Tell me, Helmut,” you say, revelling in the way his eyes flutter at the sound of his name, “were I truly a queen, how would you approach me to ask for something?”

His face is darkened with lust, his breath coming in swift bursts. “On my knees.”

“Show me, then.”

Zemo falls to his knees before you, his gaze remaining trained on your face. You keep your expression level as you move your leg with aching slowness and precision, ensuring that it brushes teasingly across the Baron’s growing bulge. He hisses through his teeth, and his hand catches your ankle to hold it there.

You tut at him condescendingly. “Did I give you permission to put your hands on me?”

His nostrils flare with the impatient breath he huffs out as he releases your ankle. “No, Empress.”

“That’s right.” You continue to rub the length of your calf just barely against his hardness, smirking at the strained grunt he gives you. “Remove your shirt.”

His fingers hasten to unbutton his blouse, but once they fumble a few too many times in response to your gentle caress against his trousers, he roughly yanks the closure apart with a growl, buttons flying as the fabric falls from his shoulders and exposes the lean expanse of his chest.

You make no attempt to hide the impish smile that stretches across your face. “Are we in a rush?”

When Zemo remains silent, dark eyes glaring up at you defiantly, angrily, you stop the movement of your leg against him.

“No,” he chokes out weakly, leaning into you to find that friction again.

“I thought so.” Graciously, you resume your gentle teasing against his trousers, and he visibly melts into you. “Tell me what you want, Helmut.”

He hesitates. He seems to contemplate his words before finally saying, “I want to taste and touch every part of you. I want to feel you come apart around me.”

“My god. A poet.” You smirk, dragging your calf a little harder against his bulge. “Run that by me again, and say what you mean this time.”

He sucks a breath through his teeth at the added pressure against his hardness, his voice tinged with a new kind of hunger. “I want to fuck you until you can’t speak. I want to feel you cum on my cock so hard that you beg me to stop. I want to mark you as mine, dragă. And I want the Winter Soldier to know it when I do.”

Your leg halts of its own accord, because his lewd admission has you clenching pathetically on air, the heat of your slick dampening the satin of your robe where it’s seeped from your cunt. You could make him wait longer, simply because he dared to use his own pet name for you instead of the one you’d given him. But you don’t want to.

You uncross your legs before him, then lean forward to grip his chin in a similar fashion as you did to wipe the blood from his face. “You’ll be content with what I give you for now, yes?”

He nods obediently, swallowing hard against your hand before vocalizing, “Yes.”

“And then, if you behave yourself, I’ll allow you the privilege of feeling me cum on your cock.”

You restrain yourself only for a moment, but the sound of the Baron’s stuttering breath prompts you to lean forward and pull his lips against yours. He stays there, allowing you to drink in the small moan he makes into your mouth as his tongue dances between your lips. He tastes sweet, like bourbon mixed with ripe summer fruit, meeting your lips with a fervor you haven’t known in years.

Your own desperation seeps into your voice when you whisper, “Touch me, Helmut.”

He obliges without a second thought. His hands slide up each of your calves, running along the length of your thighs and back down again, as though testing the waters. You kiss him feverishly, drawing him closer to you, his torso slotting between your knees to press against the edge of the chair.

His thumb slides up your inner thigh to brush along your slit, and you nearly let out a noisy whine.

“You are eager, aren’t you?” you force through gritted teeth, tightening your hands on his shoulder and jaw. His mouth breaks from you with a gasp, forehead pressed to yours for a modicum of stability.

“Yes.”

“Such a smart mouth, and all you can say is, ‘Yes?’” The sound of his desperate groan at your words only serves to spur you on, your hips jolting forward on your seat. “Why don’t you show me what that mouth can really do, Helmut?”

He affords two wet kisses along your jaw before he forgoes all propriety, and pushes your robe up to expose you from the waist down, pulling you forward until your hips meet the edge of your seat. Then his hands rake down your thighs as he dips his head between them, and his tongue slides between the lips of your cunt.

You suck in a gasp unexpectedly, grinding against his mouth as your fingers weave into his hair like they’re made to be there. He takes to you like a man starved, his tongue spreading you open and his lips devouring, and a swift flex of your fingers in his hair draws a moan from his throat.

“Such a lovely tongue. It always gets you what you want, doesn’t it?” You release your grip on his roots and stroke gently through his hair, like butter against your fingers.

Zemo hums a response, his lips closing around your clit to suck hard against it. Your back arches, a loud moan finally falling from your mouth, and he chuckles against you just before flicking his tongue across the swollen bud.

“You fucking bastard,” you choke out, nails digging against his scalp as you desperately rut against his mouth. “You like to hear how good you are, don’t you? How much you make me fucking want you?”

Your head tilts up seemingly on its own, pulling you to look at him. He’s watching you from beneath his lashes, looking like an absolute devil as his tongue drags through your folds and pauses just shy of your clit.

You can’t help the way your mouth falls open in a needy gasp, your fingers tugging on his hair once again. “Don’t you dare stop, Helmut.”

He obliges you by sucking your clit between his lips with spiteful force. You’re all too aware that his eyes are still on you, watching your head drop back as the muscles of your core tighten, your legs shaking where they rest on his shoulders.

Your orgasm is ravaging. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve had a partner to bring you there, but the pulses seem to constrict every part of your body, hoarse cries stealing from your throat to mingle with the sharp sound of rain striking the windows. Your skin sings, breath shaking when the Baron draws away from you to rest his chin on your thigh.

Then, the fucker has the audacity to say, “Take your time.”

You don’t even lift your head up in order to watch how Zemo flies backward when you use the ball of your foot to shove him by his collarbone, hearing his soft grunt as he lands on his back against the floor.

“You think I’m not taking my time with you, you entitled little shit?” you hiss as you straighten yourself, your hands falling to the tie of your robe. He raises himself on his elbows, watching you with hungry eyes as you stand, shrugging the satin negligée from your shoulders and towering over his sprawling form. “No. If I wasn’t taking my time with you, you’d already be blissed out of your fucking skull. I want to hear you beg for it.”

The look on the Baron’s face is excitable, fearful, his sharp features looking younger and more boyish now as you bend at the knee and begin to crawl tantalizingly between his parted legs, running your palms along the inside of his thighs toward where he strains against his fly.

“Poor thing,” you coo, hooking your finger beneath the buckle of his belt to tug lightly against it, and watch him buck his hips along with it. “You really need me so badly?” You undo the buckle to slip the belt from his trousers, and use two fingers to release the button of his fly before sliding your hand across his bulge as you drag the zipper down. And then, the Baron surprises you.

He whimpers.

It’s not a sound you ever expected to come from him. Zemo is normally so regally composed, stoic and even-tempered with just a hint of malice below the surface. You expect growls and groans, deep, guttural noises with primal connotations. But not this. A pathetic little whimper high in his throat, so soft it’s almost like a sob.

You can’t contain your self-aggrandizing grin as you reach into his trousers to finally relieve him of his restraints, his cock swollen and hard and leaking against your fingers.

His hand comes up to grasp your shoulder at the contact, but you’re not about to let him guide you. You grab him by the wrist and pin his hand against the floor, watching him strain to hold back a moan as you stroke him. You can hear his nails scratch roughly against the floor when his elbows give and he falls back, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Oh, you like that.” You give him a languid stroke, feeling him rigid and pulsing against your hand. Beneath the pleasure of watching Zemo squirm against your touch is the undercurrent of, ‘I want to taste it,’ as your thumb drags the bead of precum down his shaft, and your mouth waters. And who are you to deny yourself the pleasure?

You lick him from base to tip, and feel him shudder against you. You know you’ve wound him up enough that he won’t last if you go at him like this for too long, but still, you close your mouth around his tip and take him in as far as you can, his hitching breath like music to your ears and his salty taste like heaven on your tongue. And then, you draw back slowly, giving him one long, hard suck between your cheeks before your mouth pops off of him, and he very nearly screams.

“No, no, darling, you’re not going to finish like this. Not before I give you what you asked for.” His chest heaves as you dip your head down and slide your tongue up the hollow of his stomach and the line of his ribs, pulling back just at the burst of hair on his sternum. “Do you think you deserve to be given what you want, Helmut?”

His hands land on your waist as you hover over him, staring down into his glassy, dark eyes and carding your fingers delicately through his dishevelled hair. He’s shaking, his skin is burning.

“Yes.” His voice is broken, like it’s been stolen from him and wrung so tightly that he can barely use it anymore. “Please.”

A smirk twitches on your lips. “What was that?”

“Please.” His eyes are searching, desperate, a look you’ve been familiar with before. He’s not above begging, at least not now. His hand brushes your cheek, stroking a finger along the side of your face with tender reverence. “Please, dragă.”

You take his hand, and press a kiss to his palm. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You skim your hands down the length of his body as you rid him of his shoes and trousers, not really trying to conceal your own haste anymore. Your need is already evident in the way your slick seeps down your inner thighs, wet against your skin as you move up his legs.

Zemo is sitting now, his arms outstretched and grabbing for you like he can’t be without you, pulling you against his chest because he said he wanted to touch all of you, not just your cunt, not just your mouth. He’s peppering kisses along your jaw and down your neck, sucking and biting, nails scratching, marking. He holds you so close it’s like he wants to intertwine himself with you entirely.

His hands find your hips. You make no move to guide them away. You run your palm up his chest as you rub against him, raising your hips to align him with your entrance.

When you sink down onto him, your name breaks in his throat like a swan song.

You, on the other hand, are so overwhelmed with the feeling of finally being filled, you’re clinging to him like he might float away from you, moaning against his neck as your walls tighten around his intrusion.

When was the last time you felt so complete?

Zemo’s hand strokes down your spine, raising the hairs on the back of your neck with the gentle caress, and his whisper is soft as velvet. “You’re divine.”

Your eyes flutter before you finally collect yourself, and you bite down on his shoulder as you rock your hips into his. He groans loudly into your ear, his chest vibrating against yours as you lift yourself up on your knees to pull back again.

And you push him flat down onto the floor once again before you drive yourself back down onto him with excessive force, biting your lip as he strikes deeper within you.

He gasps as you rake your fingernails through his chest hair, scratching deep red welts into his skin that mimic the ones on his face. He’s surprised, and delighted, and one particular swirl of your hips makes his face scrunch so preciously you’d dare to call it cute, if that’s a word that could be used to describe the Baron.

Zemo’s hands grip your hips, moving in tandem with them as you roll down onto him, a strangled whine leaving your lips. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this, and yet, you find that the movement and feeling is not something one easily forgets.

His hips erratically buck to meet yours, a tense sort of culmination building between you as you bend forward over him, your hand coming to rest on the floor beside his head.

“Is this what you wanted, Helmut?” The words fall from your mouth before you’re even able to process them. “For my cunt to be yours for the taking?”

His pants interrupt his words as he speaks. “I hardly think I’ve taken it.”

Your free hand closes around his jaw, a scoff issuing from your mouth. “That’s right. Remember that I gave you this.”

You’re so enrapt in his mouth as you kiss him, it takes a moment for you to register that the ringing in your ears is not, in fact, from your own sensory overload, but that it’s from your cell phone, which sits two feet away on a little antique footrest. You break away from the Baron with a frustrated growl, refusing to stop the rolling of your hips even as you knock over the footrest in your haste to shut the fucking thing up.

And then you see the caller ID.

“Well, well,” you laugh as you grind your hips into the Baron’s, your eyes flickering to his confused visage, “It looks like you really do get whatever you want.”

You push the phone into Zemo’s palm, as Bucky’s call continues to vibrate in his hand.

“Answer it,” you order, your eyes blazing into his as you straighten yourself, trailing a finger down his torso.

Zemo swallows, a hint of terror washing across his face before he clears his throat, eyes steeling and growing sharp. It takes you a moment to realize that you’ve just watched him put on the mask that he wears in daily life; he’s no longer Helmut, he’s Baron Zemo.

Nevertheless, his voice cracks when he answers the phone. “Hello, James.”

You can hear a vague chattering coming from the phone against his ear, his eyes staring up into yours with unadulterated lust as you continue to roll yourself down onto his cock.

“The phone was simply nearest to me.” Zemo speaks clearly now, but his voice is deeper than normal. “Is there something you wish to tell me, zimniy soldat?”

If you listen hard enough, you can hear the cadence of Bucky’s voice over the sounds of your own erotic gasps, watching the Baron’s jaw tighten when he drives his hips up particularly hard into you, like he’s trying his hand at warning you to shut up.

“Is that so?” he nearly growls through gritted teeth. “That didn’t take long at all. I expect you’ll be chaperoning me, then?”

Ah. So Bucky called to tell you that he’s coming to collect Zemo for whatever job he needed the Baron’s help with. It makes sense for that to be the reason he called, but similar to what Zemo’s apologetic expression attests to, you thought you’d have more time.

Might as well go out with a bang.

“Actually, she is right here,” Zemo says, his words coming out thick with anger and desperation. “Perhaps you’d like to tell her yourself?”

He quirks his brows at you, like he’s asking if you want to talk to Bucky. The little inquiry for your consent is almost heartwarming; as you reach to take the phone from his hand, you bend forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

And then you pick up your hips and slam down onto him as hard as you can, making him give out a moan that he strangles to a quiet grunt in his throat before it can be heard over the phone.

“Hi, Bucky,” you sigh into the phone, putting all your frustration into the two words.

“Hey, I know it’s probably late where you are, but I wanted to catch you before tomorrow. Something came up with the Flagsmashers, I need Zemo as soon as possible.”

“Well, that’s what you left him with me for, right?” Your breathing is coming hard through your nose as you try to choke back your own moans, because now Zemo’s hands are truly guiding your hips, and he’s ensuring that each time you fall down onto him, his cock is hitting that perfect spot within you that wants it most. “You don’t need my permission to come get him.”

“I just figured I’d let you know before showing up unannounced.” Bucky’s voice is tense, like he doesn’t like the prospect of seeing you again. “I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with him even this long. I hope he wasn’t too difficult to deal with.”

“On the contrary,” you gasp out as you sweep your hand up the Baron’s chest, taking in his face as he gazes up at you with what can only be described as adoration, “he’s been a very, very good boy.”

At your words, and a particularly well aimed rut of your hips, Zemo lets out a groan that you’re sure can be heard through the phone.

Bucky is quiet for a moment, before he says in the most disappointed tone you’ve ever heard, “You didn’t.”

This time, you sigh a quiet little moan of your own into the speaker. “Don’t be too hard on him, Bucky. He made such a valiant effort to resist me.”

You feel Zemo twitch within you as you rock down onto him, his fingers tightening on your hips as you toss your head back at the sensation.

Bucky’s voice is enraged now as he growls, “Empress…”

Your head snaps forward, and you stare directly down into the Baron’s dark eyes as you say, “I’m not your Empress anymore, Bucky.”

And you end the call as Zemo jerks his hips up ungodly hard into yours. You squeeze the phone in your hand just before your core tightens, and you launch it across the room and through the open door with a ridiculously loud cry, like everything you’ve been holding back all evening is coming out all at once.

You catch yourself on your hand before you can collapse against him, allowing your release to seize you entirely. You jolt forward into it, feeling your cunt pulse around his cock with your eyes screwed shut, searing heat exploding in your belly and sizzling through your veins.

You hear Zemo’s harsh cry at the same time as you feel his hands tug you further onto him, and then the warm rush of his release, sprung forth with the sensation of you cumming around him.

He hasn’t quite finished his orgasm when his hands slide up your sides to pull you down against his chest, his arm winding around your waist and his hand cradling the back of your head, hugging you to him as he continues to moan out his release. Your head dips into the crook of his neck, lips pressed to his collarbone while you’re lost in the aftershocks of your muscles pulsing against his hardness.

You lay atop him, breathing him in. It’s the only thing you can do. You can’t seem to form words. You suppose he’s managed to get what he wanted in that respect as well; you’re dumbstruck at the intensity of your orgasm, the fact that you’ve thoroughly debauched yourself in the proverbial face of your ex, and that in less than eight hours, the man holding you like a treasure will be whisked away by said ex, likely never to see you again.

You try to burn it into your memory that Helmut’s sweat-damp body tastes of salt, and smells of sandalwood.

You remain like that, with his arm hugging you to his body and his thumb stroking circles against the back of your head, while he slips from you and his breathing slows.

Eventually, you’re able to find your voice again when he croaks out a gentle, "Thank you."

“It isn’t always like that with me, you know,” you mutter, your voice echoing in the dip of his collarbone.

“Is that so?” His voice vibrates against where your mouth is pressed to his skin.

“Yeah. Sometimes, I like to be on the receiving end.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

You raise your head, your nose brushing the stubble on his jaw as you find his eye. “Next time?”

“Yes, dragă.” His thumb continues its gentle caress of your head as his eyes search your face. “There will be a next time, if you desire it.”

“Of course I desire you, Helmut.” His breath audibly stutters when you say his name, his arm tightening around your waist.

“It… relieves me to hear you say that.” His eyes flutter shut when you press a kiss to his jaw.

“But you have to leave in the morning. And Bucky might actually kill you.”

“Don’t worry about that. I believe I can talk down our zimniy soldat.”

“I have no doubt about that,” you say with a small laugh, and rest your head in the crook of his neck again. “But he’s definitely not going to be bringing you back here, that’s for sure.”

“Have no fear, dragă. I know where to find you.” Helmut’s hand strokes down the back of your neck, beginning a gentle descent along your spine. “One trait we villains have in common is that we know a good thing when we see one.”

Send a symbol for my muse’s reaction to your muse:

❅ = wanting to build a snowman

✾ = bringing them a dozen roses

✛ = telling them they want kids

✎ = leaving a note

♛ = tucking them in bed

♠ = asking them for a loan

♘ = telling them a secret

✉ = texting them at 4 a.m.

♬ = whistling off-key very loudly

☆ = pointing out a shooting star

Tags

Eddie Brock tom hardy bane alfie solomons james delaney charles bronson tom hardy imagine reggie kray ronnie kray forrest bondurant

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darksoulgemx

4 years ago

James delaney imagine #1

Getting even better

Lilith messed about with the candles and the salt circle inside them. She had found out who used to live in this house. She had been curious about this place since she moved in. With the Big Ds on the gates. Rumor had it a man who everyone used to call the devil used to live here. She couldn't find much concrete evidence on him. Just word of mouth spread from generations. So she figured she would do a seance to try bring him forth. To find out more. She closed her eyes and began to chant the words she had found on the internet. Some sort of African language. She hoped she was pronouncing the words right. The room immediately felt colder and she snapped her eyes open to find rhe candles blown out. Except for one. Which a man was holding leaning against the wall. He studied her a moment with wary eyes before blowing out the flame. Plunging the room into complete darkness. She hesitated for a moment before rushing up and out of the protective circle to flip on the lights. Looking around she saw no one. Was it a trick? She screamed when someone grabbed her and yanked her around. It was the man. He was inches away from her face as he squeezed her arms. "Who are you and why did you call me back?" He demanded roughly with a glare. She stuttered out a response. "I-I just wanted to know.." she said. He shook her once. "Know what girl?!" He said angry. "Why they called you the devil!" She said back in fear. He searched her eyes to find her being truthful. He let her go and stepped back still watching her like a hawk. She pushed herself as far away from him as possible in fear. It worked? She hadnt taken this seriously at all. She was just doing it to have a bit of fun. She never expected this to be real. And now that it was, she didnt know what to do next. This man, this spirit, he was angry. And she knew from his vibes that this wasnt just a one off because he'd been summoned. No this was him. All the time. She looked at him from where he looked out the circular window to the thames. His back to her. "You're messing with things you cannot even begin to comprehend girl. Do you understand that?" He turned to her with steely eyes. She didn't respond. He continued. "What you just did was very foolish. You opened a very dangerous door. And you are lucky that it was I who answered your call. Not something else." He said sternly. She lowered her eyes to the floor. "And now you have managed to attach me to yourself. And I do not know to undo it." He said annoyed. When he said this her eyes snapped up immediately. "What? You can't just..disappear back to where you came from?" She asked. He glared at her like that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "No. The chant. You messed it up. Said something you shouldn't have. And now I'm stuck here. With you." He said walking towards her. She gulped. "Im sorry.." she offered. He snorted not amused. "Yes. You will be." He said.

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he sat at her vanity staring intently into the mirror as she applied the brow pomade. She pulled away the brush and made a face into the mirror. "Sisters not twins. But these bitches look like 3rd cousins." She said with a huff, opening the drawer and pulling out her makeup wipes and removing the pomade from one of the brows. James raised a brow from his place on her couch, looking up from his book. He didn't understand this generation's women and their need to use so many beauty products at once. Most of the stuff he had watched lilith put on his generation hadnt even had. And the way she put them on was just bizarre to him. He compared it to the way he piled on the ash on his body during his sacred rituals. He shook his head as he watched her. It was like she was painting a precise picture. He turned his attention back to the book. She set the brush down and leaned back in her chair blowing air out of her mouth. "This takes too long." She muttered. "Then why do you bother?" He asked. "You look fine without it. I doubt any man or women cares." He flipped the page. She lazily turned her gaze to him. "Its not for anyone else. Its for me. I feel nicer with it on. I don't wear it all the time." She said. He raised another brow. "Alright then. Don't complain." He said looking at her briefly over the book before returning back to it. She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm stuck with you." She muttered and went back to work. "Yes. Well. Its your fault you are." He said gruffly. She rolled her eyes and started on her face. "Dick." He snorted. "Yes. I have one. What of it?" She sighed. "How childish of you. Whered you learn that one?" She asked sarcastically. He was amused. "Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked. She groaned. "Shut up I can't concentrate!" She said. He chuckled darkly but said nothing else.

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She pulled on her coat and grabbed her keys and purse as he stood leaning against the stairs. "I need more ash. And herbs" He muttered handing her a list with his fancy writing on it. She took it with a look of annoyance. "Why is it you always send me to do these things?" She said shoving the list in her purse. "Well. You're the only one of us that can leave this house now arent you? Therefore the responsibility falls to you." She glared. "Yeah well its also my money you demand me to spend." He raised a brow in amusent. "Sorry. I dont think ghost currency works in this world." He said. She just threw her head back and groaned and left the house, slamming the door behind her. "What a dick."

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She placed the items from the list on the counter with a sigh as the pagan witch who owned the store began to ring it up. The other store she had gone to before had given her a bad vibe so she had sound another one only slightly out of her way. As she slid the woman her bank card their hands touched briefly and the woman paused, staring at her as if reading her soul. Lilith shifted uncomfortably in the silence. The woman tilted her head and spoke up finally. "It is not a mistake that he is here with you. The fates have made it so. Do not be afraid. Your souls are matched." She smiled at her and handed her the bag, sliding her card back to her. "There is no charge today. It has been a while since I've met someone such as you. I hope to see you again." She smiled confidently at her. Lilith gave a small smile back and quickly left the store. What the hell did that mean? She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts and made her way home with her many bags.

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"Did you get them?" He asked when she came through the door. As he observed her he narrowed his eyes. She seemed to be in a bit of a daze. She pushed the bag into his chest and moved up the stairs slowly, caught in her thoughts. He grabbed the bag and followed her determined to find out what had happened. He found her sitting on the bed absent-mindedly pulling her things out of the bags and sorting them into groups. He moved forward and seized her arm in his grip looking into her eyes, ignoring the sharp gasp she gave. He saw in her mind what had happened. What the witch had said to her. He let go immediately and stepped back. So it was true. The pull he felt to her wasn't a coincidence. She watched him curiously. He took a breath and began moving towards his old ritual room. "I'll be busy. Dont come into that room." He ordered and left, closing her bedroom door after him.

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Lilith sat up with a groan as she was woken up by something. She rubbed her eyes and blinked away the sleep, letting her eyes adjust to the dark bedroom. She could make out a silhouette in the corner and said in a raspy sleep filled voice. "James what are you doing? Its like 3 am." She whined. He moved towards her slowly like a predator. He got close enough and moved onto the bed. She watched him confused. He moved her hair from her face, gently caressing her cheek as he stared into her eyes. She got lost in his eyes and immediately became dazed as he moved towards her and connected their lips.

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She groaned the next morning and rolled over. She couldn't ignore the feeling of something heavy wrapped around her and as she cracked her eyes open she noticed the arm that connected to the naked tattooed body and everything from the night before came rushing back. She closed her eyes in confusion as she became aware of her lack of clothes. A sudden movement of kisses along her neck brought her back to the present. "What was last night?" She asked steadying her voice. He hummed against her neck. "I believe it's called love making." He said. She sighed. "Thats not what I meant and you know it. Please no word games." He sighed and pulled away. "That witch was right. Our souls call to eachother. I dont know why. But they do. And you messing up that spell wasn't a mistake. It was meant to happen. Even now I can hear your soul whispering to me. I havent heard that in a long time." He said. "So what does that mean?" She asked turning in his arms to face him. He met her gaze. "It means that we are two halves of a whole." He said moving her hair from her face. "What? Like soulmates?" He raised a brow. "I suppose you can call it that." He said. She lowered her eyes for a moment before looking back up into his. " does this mean you're no longer looking for a way back from where you came from?" He snorted and burrowed his head into her chest. "Oh love. I'm not going anywhere."

Tags

tom hardy james delaney james delaney x reader taboo tom hardy imagine

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darksoulgemx

4 years ago

James delaney Angsty imagine

I'm sorry I gotta do it. This is extremely sad and angsty. Warning you now. I dunno. Sometimes angsty things come to me. If you would like a part two of Andy as James' guardian let me know. Totally could do it. On with the imagine!

Below is a mood board for Andy!

She came when James was 17 and Zilpha was 15. She was to be the new housemaid. She was Brace's daughter. Her name was Andromeda and she was 15 like zilpha. James remembered her like it was yesterday. She had been firey and sweet all at the same time. She had caught him and zilpha many a time and kept her mouth shut. Not because zilpha threatened her. No. She'd made that clear to the both of them the first time she'd caught them and zilpha opened her mouth with harsh and hot words.

She made her way down the hall silently with the wicker laundry basket, avoiding all the squeaky floor boards. She noticed Zilphas door cracked open and raised her fist to give a small knock but stilled in her movements when she heard it. The heavy breathing and small mewls from Zilpha and James' grunting with every thrust. And she knew it was James. Because Zilpha called out quietly. "James! Don't stop!" She felt sick to her stomach but at the same time this was a perfect time to teach the two of them a lesson about sneaking about. "Hey. If you guys are gonna sneak about yeah, do it the right way." She called out. She heard the curses and the thud that indicated someone had fallen off the bed. Within moments the door was wretched open and Zilpha stood in the door way with a red and nervous James behind her. The look on Zilohas face was a cross between shame and anger. "Laundry?" She held up the basket. Zilpha huffed. "If you tell anyone about what you just saw-" she growled but Andromeda had cut her off. "Well if I told then I wouldn't have the joy of watching you attempt and fail to sneak around here would I?" She reached behind James and pulled the door shut. "Next time. Shut the door all the way." She gave a cheeky smirk and made her way down the hall whistling like it was just another day.

The next time she caught them he knew she was growing annoyed at this point that they weren't being as careful as they should. She'd told them as much.

She rounded the corner to see the two of them heavily kissing in the hallway. "Come on you two! Seriously!" They jumped away from eachother. "You both don't have a sneaky bone in your bodies. Its obvious." She muttered annoyed. "W-well father is gone." Zilpha spoke up. Andromeda raised a brow. "Is my father? Did your father say for how long he'd be gone for?" Zilpha turned red immediately. Andromeda didn't look at the two of them as she stocked the hall closet with the bath towels and spoke. "If you really want to keep this whole...thing...a secret. You have to do better. Cause if you get caught and and they ask me if I knew, I'm Singing like a canary. At that point its everyone for themselves." She said and turned to give the two teens a look. Zilpha didn't meet her eyes and James just smiled amused. "Now you both have a room with a lock yes?" James nodded. "Good. Use them. Good day." She waved them off and disappeared back down the stairs. Zilpha had taken a deep breath and looked back up at him with a giggle.

She was one of the best people both siblings knew. And she only proved to be more than that when his father had pissed someone off and they came for Zilpha as revenge. He also remembered that nightmare of a night too clearly.

He had come into the back door, pausing when he'd heard a man shouting, Zilpha sobbing, and Andromeda quietly talking. He silently moved through the kitchen, grabbing a knife and peeking into the foyer. A dirty looking man was standing in the middle of the foyer with a gun pointed at Zilpha who was standing infront of the stairs, Andromeda behind her on the second step. "Please. Shes just a girl. She had nothing to do with any of this." Andromeda was saying in a calm, hushed tone. "Shut up!" The man yelled back clearly irritated. "Look mister. You're angry. I get it. I've been there. But don't take an innocent girls life for something so trivial. The safes are upstairs. I will open them for you. Take whatever you want. Just not her." The man growled. "I dont want money or jewels. He can get those back. He can't get her back." He clicked off the safety and James snuck behind him, rasing the knife. The man must've seen Zilphas expression because before he could plunge the knife into the man's neck he fired. It all happened in slow motion. Andromeda kicked Zilpha to the floor and out of the way. And within a blink of an eye Andromeda was against the stairs. A dazed look in her eyes as blood seeped through her white dress, staining her chest. James plunged the knife into the man's throat repeatedly until he was sure the man was no longer breathing and rushed to the stairs to Andromeda. She wasnt making a sound but her eyes were moving. Like she was seeing something no one else could. Zilpha sobbed and crawled her way up to the maid and held her hand tightly. James pulled her head up, his eyes wet. "Andromeda! Hey! Andy!" He yelled to her through a cracked voice. She didn't answer him but her eyes met his. "Dont you dare. Don't you dare leave us!" She gave a small smile and looked over at Zilpha who couldn't control her heavy sobbing. And she closed her eyes, her chest stopped moving and her body went heavy. The door burst open and Horace Delaney made his appearance. He took in the man's body on the floor and his two children sobbing over his maids body on the stairs and his blood ran cold. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"

James was sure that the was the one and only time his father had felt true, unadulterated guilt and sadness. He had paid for the finest funeral for Andromeda and the finest tombstone in the finest cemetery London had to offer. Brace had broken that day. He had never been the same. He'd taken to drinking and putting up a fake front for everyone else. James had pulled back from Zilpha. He'd started taking an interest in the east India company and had eventually gone on that trip to Africa where he'd almost died and disappeared for 10 years. Zilpha was guilt ridden. She had put it into her mind that it was her fault that Andy was dead. That if she had been braver and not such a little girl Andy would still be alive. James called it survivors guilt. And he knew exactly how she felt now after the sinking of the Influence. He had seen Andy many a time in his visions and dreams. Always there lecturing him on his troublesome ways and stupid plans. And when his mother had tried to drown him in the lake for the first time she had gone head to head with the woman. She was his protector even now. He just felt it. So he made it a routine once a week every Friday to buy flowers and leave them on her grave. An offering. A thank you for all her hard work in life and in the afterlife as his guardian

Tags

tom hardy james delaney james delaney x reader taboo tom hardy imagine

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darksoulgemx

3 years ago

Opposites attract • Niki Lauda Imagine •

The marriage had been talk of the racing tracks and the racing media for MONTHS now. No one could believe the fact that THE Niki Lauda, rule follower asshole extraordinaire, had not only married a woman half his age, but one such as HER. Covered in tattoos, metal in her face, and a crazy personality to boot. They were such opposites that everyone thought it was a play for attention. His rivalry with James Hunt was getting heated and in order to keep the attention on him, he'd gone out and done something crazy. But that wasn't true at all. Your relationship with Niki was real.

You stood by his side and supported him no matter how crazy the plan or how much of an asshole he was. You would gamble that you were the only person who DID check him on his attitude towards you at points. You understood it was his defense mechanism especially when he was stressed. But you made it VERY clear that it gave him no right to treat you like shit. That if he needed to vent you were always there. But do NOT take it out on you. And he was flabbergasted at your outburst at first, but then he began to change his attitude towards you and he would rant but not AT you. Rather TO you. And you were happy to listen and throw the occasional cuss word or insult in there as well in agreeance.

He loved the way you weren't scared if anyone's opinion of you. How you did and said what you wanted and when you wanted. He especially liked it when James was insulting him and you unleashed your firey forked tongue and gave him the insulting of his life infront of his women, taking him down a few pegs. He liked the fear in Hunts eyes as the fire in yours sparked to life and you stepped towards the blonde as if you were death herself coming to drag his soul to the depths of darkness. It made his heart swell to know you were fiercely loyal and protective of him, he'd never had that before.

He loved the way you listened to his concerns without blowing him off as arrogant or scared of losing. You had begged him not race that day. Told him that it was OK if he sat that one out. That it didn't matter what the other drivers thought. Trust his gut. Don't do it. But his arrogance had pushed him to get into that car and on that wet track even though he knew there was more than that 20% chance he didn't usually push. And he had crashed. He felt the flames licking his skin as he was dragged from his car. And he felt your hand in his the whole time he was unconscious. He heard you tell the priest to "kindly fuck off cause he's not dead yet." He wanted so badly to chuckle but he couldn't move. Couldn't respond. Could only rattle what little air he had in his lungs. But you were there through it all. The painful bandage changed and procedures. You didn't flinch. You held onto his hand with deadly determination in your eyes and looked at him with nothing else but pure love, giving him pep talks that would cause nurses and doctors to look at you with pity and confusion. But you didn't care. He was YOUR Niki. And he was gonna kick ass.

And when he finally did come back to the track, you were right by his side. Ever the overbearing wife. "Niki, did you take your pills?" "Niki, it's water time. Drink up." "Niki, don't forget to change your bandages before the race." But he couldn't bring himself to be the tiniest bit angry or annoyed. He was grateful you were by his side keeping his already fragile health in mind. And he knew it was so he would be able to keep racing. He knew that was your motivation. His motivation. So when James Hunt made his was into his bay and began speaking to him, you weren't happy. At all. The accident was HIS fault. And Niki confirmed that to him. But when Niki decided to forgive him, you begrudgingly did too. If Niki could, you could too you supposed.

But when that damned press conference happened, you were uneasy. You knew these fucking reporters were like vultures. And one of them would manage to engage you by being an insensitive fuck. And you were right. "Niki, what did your wife say when she saw you? how do you expect your marriage to survive this?" The heat that surrounded your body as your blood rushed through your ears was almost unbearable. You clenched your fists and took a deep breath. "She said, sweet, you don't need a handsome face to drive, only a left foot." The room laughed in acceptance but the reporter pushed and it was enough to make what little patience leave you body. "Im serious. How do you expect your marriage to survive when you look like that?" You stormed towards the table Niki was sitting at, reporters turning towards you and gasping. You leaned down next to where Niki was sitting and moved the microphone towards yourself as he looked up at you in confusion. "Im sorry I'm not that shallow to think that looks is all that makes up a relationship. And if you do, well, God do I feel sorry for your wife. I told the priest Reading his last rites to fuck off because he wasn't dead yet. And here he sits. A marriage is until death. Through thick and thin. Sickness and in health. Though I wouldn't expect you to understand that. Fuck you. Press conference over." You said and grabbed Nikis hand, pulling him up and out of the room as cameras flashed, Niki following behind you in a daze.

When Niki decides to race in Japan you feel a anxious sickness building up in your stomach watching him get into his car. These conditions were way worse than the ones that caused his accident. And whilst you didn't say anything, not wanting to cause an argument, Niki could see the fear on your face. And that's when his plan cemented in his head. He would never again put you through that sickness that settled in your stomach whenever you thought back to the crash. He would never again leave you wondering if you'd be a Widow before you even got started. He would make decisions with you in mind from now on. So when he pulled back into the bay after the first lap and killed the engine, pulling off his Helmut you jumped into his arms and he caught you with a smile on his face. He would never again leave you. No matter what.

The day his father came knocking, wanting to reconcile now that his son had made something of himself and made him eat his own words, you were having none of it. You made it VERY clear to Niki that this was a power play. Not a 'I miss my son genuinely' move. He was torn. But you explained to him that you had lived around narcissistic people your whole life and they would leave when you had nothing to offer them and then come crawling back to drain you when you did. And after a long talk between the two of you, he declined his father's offer of a renewed relationship, to which the man angrily spat insults which hit Niki where it hurt and left him in peices once again. Peices you were left to pick up and reinforce with love. You wouldn't ever let anyone hurt Niki again. You swore it.

When Niki began to teach you how to drive F1 cars, it was a debacle. You were a MESS. It took everything he had to not throw his hands up and walk away, giving up. And eventually, you got it. He often got annoyed at how silly you acted doing it but he came to realize that whilst his happiness in his car was strictly business and hidden, yours was a childlike joy that you had no issues showing. And he accepted it wholeheartedly and even came to enjoy it. Soon it was a hobby for you that you both partook in in the off seasons for fun, much to the Ferrari teams amusement. Enzo Ferrari himself even visited the track a few times to watch you two horse around in mock races on his track.

The next season you two are back on the race track, this time with your new knowledge of the cars and races and a brand new, Ferrari red jacket with the 'Y/N Lauda' across the back of it over top the giant Ferrari logo. Officially apart of the team, though just starting out in the F3 leagues with Nikis help. This drives the media CRAZY. No one saw this coming. Not even you. The press fights over interviewing the both of you together, the dynamic duo, the Laudas. Husband and wife Formula One and Three racers. What a sensational story.

A/N: this one just kinda flowed. Hope you like it!

Tags

fanfiction daniel brühl niki lauda rush 2013 daniel bruhl fanfiction niki lauda fanfiction Niki lauda imagine daniel bruhl imagine

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darksoulgemx

2 years ago

Your Grace Masterlist

Your Grace Playlist (by @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog)

This is the fic I wrote for the Vikings Big Bang❤️ You can also read it on AO3.

*Please remember to check the warnings at the beginning of each chapter! It’s sometimes very explicit and of course +18, do not read if any of the topics I put in the warnings could be triggering for you. And please tell me if I didn’t warn about anything properly so I can add it. Thank you!

Part 1: forever winter

Part 2: king of my heart

Part 3: tolerate it

Part 4: exile

Part 5: hoax

Part 6: peace

Part 7: evermore

(this fic was originally published on AO3 on February 15th 2022)

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darksoulgemx

11 years ago

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Far_Cry_(2013_film)

Guys, guys. I think there’s going to be a movie about far cry 3.

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darksoulgemx

2 years ago

Honestly be pretentious as fuck about the stuff you create. Do a press release for your fanfic updates. Do a Q&A about your webcomic. Make fake merch designs for your OCs. Commission "official" book covers. Very few of us will ever get to a stage where something we've created Makes It Big but even if you have an audience of 5 people plus a shoelace fucking indulge yourself and pretend!! It's the only way to live!!

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darksoulgemx

11 years ago

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darksoulgemx

2 years ago

The Interview •Alex Høgh Andersen •

A/N: GhostOracle is based on the band JINJER. And this one is short.

Alex and Marco sat on the couch across from the interviewer on the other side of the small wooden table answering questions. "Ok so last question for Alex." He said with a grin. Alex smiled back. "Alright. Shoot." "A little birdy told me you have a celebrity crush. Care to elaborate?" Alex glanced over to Marco who was smirking. "I uh..yup. I do." He said and leaned into Marco who laughed. "Ok. Who is this celebrity? Do we know them?" Alex squeezed his eyes shut with a smile. "Oh God. Um maybe?" Marco laughed loudly. "Just say it! Stop stalling!" "Shut up. I know the little birds was you. Always spilling my secrets!" He said jokingly. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Alright. So Marco showed me this band whilst we were filming season 5. I'm not too into heavy metal music. I like rock music but the screaming usually gives me a headache and I try to avoid those at all costs. But Marco loves heavy metal music. So one day he convinced me to listen to one of his favorite bands, GhostOracle, and I do admit it's good. I was really confused at first because I was like "how is that sound coming from a woman?" All three men laugh before Alex continues. "But then I was like 'oh this is catchy.' It was stuck inside my head all day so when I went home I decided to listen to more and then I got curious so I looked them up and yeah." He cuts himself off. Marco claps his hand on his back. "No no no. Tell them what you told me. You texted me not long after." He laughed. Alex went red. "I uhhh. Texted Marco and said the frontwoman, Lilith, was beautiful." He cleared his throat. "With heart eye emoji! And he follows her on instagram and twitter. I see him smiling like an idiot at his phone anytime somethings posted." Marco cuts in. And Alex pushes his face into Marcos shoulder to hide. "Hey now. We know GhostOracle here! They are actually one of our favorites to interview. So I do agree with you Alex. Lilith is very beautiful. And kind too!" The interviewer said trying to lighten up the embarrassment Alex felt. Alex righted himself on the couch feeling a bit relieved. "That being said. We do have a surprise for you before you go! A thank you for letting us interview you!" Alex nodded thinking the situation was over with. Until "Hello boys. Nice to meet you!" He froze at the Ukrainian accented female voice he had come to know. Marco nodded at her whilst grinning and moved over so she could sit between the two of them. She took a seat and smiled. "You are Marco and you are Alex?" She asked. Marco nodded happily and Alex nodded whilst blushing. "Im Lilith! Vikings is actually my favorite show! So this is an honor for me!" The interviewer laughs. "And who's your favorite viking on the show?" She smiled. "Ivar. Hands down. I like the chaos. Who doesnt?" Alex turned red again. "You've heard Alex has a crush on you. What's do you think?" She laughed softly and Alex rubbed his face trying to hide. "I think he's not so bad himself." She raised a brow and shrugged with a soft smile. Marco laughed loudly. "Im like cupid man." She laughed with him whilst Alex just grinned embarrassed. "Well I think this all went very well. It's time to end the interview unfortunately but I think we ended on a great note. As for the two of you, I now ship you. So I hope everything works out!" The three laugh.

And it did infact work out. They stayed friends for a while before actually dating and eventually marrying. All because of Marco and an interview.

Tags

Spotify Ivar the Boneless ivar lothbrok ivar ragnarsson vikings imagine alex hoegh andersen

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darksoulgemx

4 years ago

I SPEAK ASTRONOMY •BANE•

I write my imagines in flashes of different scenes. I dont know why but I do. So bare with this one. I have a lot of weird ideas and this was one of the first Hardy imagines I'd ever wrote so its cringe to me but I'm also the writer. Everything I write is cringe to me lmao.

Tatiana remembered climbing out of the pit with her twin sister talia. She wasn't the smarter of the two twins. And she had relied of talia to be their survival. To find their father. And when they had thats when their differences had started. Their father paid more attention to talia than he did tatiana. Talia showed more of personality for revenge and vengence. Tatiana put her anger into more creative outlets. And therefore she hadnt been trained in the league of shadows like talia had been. And when they had become old enough tatiana split off from her sister and father in search of adventure and better things than fighting and death. Though she held no contact with her father or sister, her sister had somehow found a way to tell her their father had excommunicated their protector from the league for nothing more than the way he now looked with the mask. It was the last time she had heard from either of them. So when she had received the note scrawled into two words she couldn't help the feeling of dread that made its way into her stomach. "HE'S BACK" she folded the note and sat back in her seat. Her sister was devious. And she knew she had something planned. Something that involved the help of their savior. And she couldn't help feeling like it was something absolutely horrible.

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Talia touched Banes mask gently with graceful fingers. Taking him in for the first time in years since his excommunication. He closed his eyes momentarily in relaxation. He opened them slowly. "I am very glad to see you again Bane." She said softly. He said nothing. Only listened to her. "We have much to plan." He finally had the courage to speak. "Your sister?" He asked. She sighed and stepped away from him. "My sister has left. The first chance she got. She is not cut out for what the league asks." He felt a slight feeling of dread. "Do not worry about tatiana. She is fine. I assure you. She has put her anger and pain into more creative routes. Last update I've gotten is that she enchants people with her voice." She smiled gently. "But we have much to discuss. The topic of my sister can wait for another time." She said. Bane moved his focus.

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Tatiana stood over the hospital bed. "And you're certain he will recover?" She asked the doctor. She didn't usually deal in the underground. But she couldn't let him suffer and die like that. She wasn't her sister. Her sister was content using him as a chip in her game and leaving him when it was convenient. She had witnessed it herself in gotham. She had gone to talk her sister out of her mad plan and she had seen it in her sisters eyes she was too far gone. And she had proven that Bane was too deep in his belief that her sister had actually cared for him by ordering him around by phone to prove to tatiana her point. But when she had seen catwoman blow him away from a distance she couldn't leave him. And so here they were. In an underground hospital with a seedy but genius doctor who had tended to Bane and kept him alive. "Yes. He will be good as new." He said with a predatory smile. "Though he will need to lay low. I'm sure if they find out he's alive he will be the world's most wanted. Now. Let's discuss payment." He said darkly. She met his look and raised a brow. Tossing him the duffel bag.

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When Bane woke the first thing he did was tear out the IV in his arm and all the other wires and tube connecting him to the machines. Taking a look around the room he noted the expensive and goth decor. He immediately went on the defensive when the door clicked open. He eyed the woman that walked through it. She was covered in tattoos and piercings. Her black hair in a messy ponytail and red eyeshadow covered her eyelids in a sleek cat eye look. She eyed his stance and tense body language. "Stop it. Sit down. You're gonna undo all the work I paid handsomely for." She said sternly. He immediately relaxed recognizing the accent. "Tatiana.." he trailed off in a question. She had grown up. The complete opposite of talia. She seemed more...warm. though she was being stern at the moment. He did as she asked sitting down on the hospital bed. The metal creaking under his large body. "Who else is gonna go through the trouble eh?" She asked setting the breakfast tray on the small desk beside the bed. "We have a lot to discuss." She said taking a seat in the chair beside the bed. He wouldn't meet her eyes. Instead he finally let emotion take over. Shame was the first. Then sadness. Then anger. "You followed every order she gave you. Like an obedient dog. Why?" She asked seriously. He was quiet for a moment. "Because I loved her." He answered finally. She nodded and kissed her teeth. "My sister was evil. She had her sights on revenge and anyone and everyone was a tool to her. You have to understand that." She said leaning forward. He closed his eyes. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. But he needed to. "Bane. She did not love you. She did not love any of us. The only reason she wanted to avenge our father was for power. Not because she loved him. She never did. He was means of protection for her. As were you." He clinched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. "Bane. This is the truth. I loved her. But she stopped being my sister when she turned into a monster. When she turned YOU into a monster." She placed a hand on his giant arm gently. He opened his eyes slowly finding her almost black ones. "You wanted a purpose. We all do. And she gave you one. She played pupet with you. She did it to all of us." She assured. "But she's gone now. And you have a chance to start over. Redemption." She said genuinely. "Do you accept it? Or do you live in your pain and let it drown you?" She stepped back. She let the quiet take over before nodding and getting up, moving towards the door. "I cannot help you then." She said opening the door. "I accept." He said. She froze in the door and turned to him. She eyed him. "Then it starts with a new purpose." She said with a smile.

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He watched her on the stage. The music seemed to take over her. She turned into someone different. Each song telling a story. Some he recognized as actual events. Others as simply a message. He had a new purpose now. He was once again her protector. This time to simply keep her safe from the world. Not from death. Not like when she was little. His job was much easier now. And unlike how it was with talia tatiana did not order him around. He was free to do whatever it was he pleased as long as it was legal. She wasn't his keeper. She didn't get angry at him or yell at him. She simply let him know if he did something distasteful and it was up to him to fix the behavior. She was his redemption.

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BONUS:

"BANE!" She yelled from downstairs. He rushed down his footsteps shaking the steps as he went. He was on alert immediately. But as he rounded the corner all he saw was her fiddling with a remote infront of the TV. He sighed and relaxed. "What is it?" He asked the adrenaline still pumping. "I think the stupid firestick came loose on the TV but its too high up and I can't reach it." She pouted. He eyed her for a moment and she smiled sheepishly. He let out a breath and muttered to himself as he reached up to the mounted TV and jiggled the USB back into the port. The words 'AMAZON FIRESTICK' came across the tv screen as it turned back on. "Thanks!" She said as she resumed the episode she was watching. He grunted and began to make his way to the stairs. "Hey! Wait!" He sighed and moved back over to where she was standing. She seemed to study him for a moment before climbing on the couch and using it as a platform. She pulled him gently by his mask and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks dude." She said jumping off the couch. He was glad his mask covered his face. It was flaming red. "Yeah yeah. Just don't scream like that again unless there's actual trouble." She saluted him. "Got it." He nodded and moved back up the stairs. Only until he was out of sight did he allow himself to think about what just happened.

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batman tom hardy bane tom hardy imagine bane x reader

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