#WHICH ITSELF ties back into another thing i was thinking about with the plates and- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jack-kellys · 1 year

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Détective au + afterlife au for the ask game!!

what's quite funny about this ask is that it became a ghost hunting/destroying storyline and then maybe two hours into writing the snippet i got a ghost hunting au + something else ask. more for me!!

i have a lot but u can send me more randomized aus!

okay SO! recently i saw this 8 episode show called lockwood & co on netflix (originally a book series) and it was sort of a weird first season to follow without the lingo and historical context of the world so basically this is an au adjacent to that concept. inspired by, if you will. one thing that's important is that young ppl lowkey function as living tools to listen to, see, or feel ghosts' energy. so they are tasked with destroying ghosts. without further ado here's a 1.6k word scene of a one-shot idea i'll finish eventually!

–––

Sarah and David stood at the door together, the eerie home where their research had brought them. A haunted item, some music box, had been being bought and sold across the city, only leaving haunting incidents in its wake. It wasn’t hard for the spirit within to free itself with all that travel and the likely lack of protection the music box had undergone. David had tracked the hauntings, cross-referenced with recent black market sales, and estimated the next location via finding the latest buyer’s home. Sarah had surmised the threat level based on the hauntings (the deaths; there had been ten recent ones of hypothermia, which could only mean a ghost’s touch), finding police reports and tapping their forensics friend Finch to properly place what kind of threat they’d be dealing with.

And now, armed with iron bullets, chest plates, and lined gloves among other things, Sarah tried the doorknob. Unlocked.

The twins shared a look, David nodding and fingering his pistol as Sarah carefully opened the door.

An iron blade poked into David’s throat, both siblings freezing in place. After a moment, David groaned.

Holding the sword was ex-detective Jack Kelly, who looked about as shocked as David had been. His two brothers-in-arms, Charlie and Anthony, flanked his sides with their own weapons drawn.

“Who gave you this case?” Jack demanded in a whisper, while Sarah scoffed.

“Who gave you this case?” she countered. “You’re not registered detectives anymore, Kelly. You can’t be here.”

“And somehow, we were here first,” Anthony grinned. “If we cracked it better and quicker than you, then I think we gotta be the right people to be here.”

“Too many of us’ll make us dead a lot faster, so you guys should go,” Charlie nodded. “We got it covered.”

David scowled, guiding Jack’s iron away from his neck with a finger.

“Not a chance in hell,” he muttered, marching past all of them. “Follow me.”

After a moment of hesitation, he heard footsteps behind him, and his own grew more sure.

The old hardwood of the house barely creaked under their feet, careful of the noise they made as they were essentially breaking and entering– it was the buyer’s property, and David wasn’t sure if the man was home or not. Essentially, all they had to do was secure the music box and get it to their detective agency, to determine if it should be stored or if it was safer to destroy it. Spirits were mostly tied to objects, and since these specific hauntings had been within a short radius of the box, it had to be the spirit’s physical connection. But where in the house the box could be was another matter.

David’s hand found his sister’s, letting her take it and closing his eyes. Listening.

“Right,” he heard Jack drawl out. “The spirit gonna give us directions?”

“You know it doesn’t work that way,” David sighed, “or I’d be calling you an empath.”

“He does love his crystals,” Charlie teased, and David heard a small rustling between the two brothers, likely from Jack pushing the other.

“Quiet,” he said softly, suddenly, a small sound at the back of his head. Mechanical, a trill of gears tapping and moving to his left. He drifted toward it, allowing Sarah to guide his steps. The sound moved forward, between his eyes now as the noise of it came more into focus. It wasn’t tinny, wasn’t machine-like despite the ticking and tapping of it. He felt his feet hit the stairs, and cautiously started up them.

“What are you hearing?” Sarah whispered, resting her other hand on David’s back.

“It’s fluid,” he murmured, “as much as a music box can be, anyway. Guessing it’s because of the spirit’s post-life being attached- or… combined with it.”

“I’d rather fight a ghost than a box, so let’s not hope ‘combined’,” Anthony muttered behind him. Jack stifled a laugh, before letting out another one. David heard the railing’s wood creak, maybe a hand tightening around it.

“Wasn’t that funny, Jack,” Anthony said. “Now you’re just patronizing me.”

“I know, you’re not that-” Another giggle broke it off, what sounded like a hand slapping over Jack’s mouth as they made it to the top of the stairs. The fluid sound grew louder in David’s ears. Melodic, bright, and pretty, a swirling tune that tried to make David smile.

His eyes flew open with a small gasp, squeezing Sarah’s hand.

“Something’s wrong,” he murmured. “The spirit sounds too strong, we have to find that box- we have to find out if the buyer’s still- …alive.”

His gaze had landed on Jack, hunched over the banisher with his shoulders shaking as his brothers tried to get him to look at them.

“Jack,” Sarah hissed, “what do you feel?”

“Come on,” Charlie encouraged, rubbing Jack’s back. “Jackie, you’re okay, come on.”

“It’s- kind of…” Jack started, falling into a strained batch of giggles again. He lifted his head, fingers pressed to his temples and pained look on his face while a smile resided on his lips. He shook his head, laughing again. “Very.. happy. It’s happy, that kinda bubbly ecstatic feeling? You should…”

Jack grinned, lopsided and loose, and David stepped back. They had to get him out of here.

“You should check- on the buyer,” he laughed, curling into himself. “You should- oh, man, you should–hahaha–check on the buyer…”

“Fuck. Fuck,” Sarah breathed, hand on her sword. “Charlie, stay with Jack. You two, with me.”

David nodded, glancing at Anthony before casting his gaze at Jack once again. The boy couldn’t hold it in anymore, wheezing with delirious laughter as Charlie leaned against the bannister with his iron cane at the ready. David tore his eyes away, running after Sarah.

The noise, the music was present in David’s ears now without him even trying to concentrate, loud and repeating and quite beautiful. He gripped his forehead between his index finger and thumb, trying to silence it while he drew his pistol. Sarah kicked open the bedroom door, and the pretty music faded away from him.

“Oh, shit,” Anthony sighed out, crossing over to the bed. A body laid there, with skin chilled and lips blued and eyes grayed. “Well, there’s our buyer. How’d Jack know by a feeling?”

“And why would a ghost in a music box be happy to kill?” Sarah frowned. “Spirits don’t often know they’re killing others, that’s…”

And then noise as a whole left completely, David’s eyes falling on an object on the dresser as the world fell into static silence. It was ornate, rectangular, with run-down gold moldings on its edges and glossed rose along its top and sides. He stepped towards it, wanting to investigate the rest of it. Look at it, look into it. Wanting to open it, wanting to hear it again, so pretty and soft...

“-avid!”

He winced at the surge of live sounds- walls creaking, Sarah’s voice, her feet on the carpet, the clink of Anthony’s pistols in their holsters. Something was in his hands, rectangular, and he could hear Jack’s laughter shriek in amusement from down the hall.

“Don’t open it,” she was saying, her eyes wide. Anthony was still by the bed, hands by his hips, fingers spread. “David. Don’t. Just give it to me.”

David’s gaze dropped to what was in his hands, the pretty music box occupying his vision again. All he had to do was tug his finger towards himself, and he’d hear the song again. That was all he had to do.

“No,” he said suddenly, though his grip tightened on it.

“No?” Anthony scoffed, shifting on his feet a bit- a more active stance. “For the know-it-all, you sure are stupid. Drop it, Jacobs. Now.”

“All we have to do is get it in the iron sack,” Sarah said softly, shooting Anthony a look. “David, just let go, and I’ll put it in. Don’t listen to whatever you’re hearing–”

“I’m not hearing anything,” he interjected. “I can’t hear it, it’s in my head, Saz, so if I just- if I open it then it could counter it–”

“No way,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “It’s like Charlie said. The more of us there are the easier we wind up dead, so don’t try shit to make that true.”

“But what if- if it could counter what Jack’s going through too?” David tried. “He’s sick with it, it’s contained in him right now, right? If we open it, we can release it.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying right now,” Sarah said, her voice the material of her weapon. David watched her hands take hold of the box in his grasp. “You’re not in your right mind, Ach. Let go.”

“Once it’s open, we can put it in the bag,” David scoffed. “That’ll make sure the spirit stays trapped and Jack and I will be fixed-”

She tugged it, like they were seven years old again, and David tugged it back.

“Jesus christ,” Anthony muttered. Swiftly, he pulled out a pistol, David glancing up to see the circular, hollow barrel of it.

“You’re insane,” David scoffed.

“That’d be you,” Anthony sneered. “Drop it.”

“Fine.”

David raised his hands over his head, and the box went flying behind him.

Sarah shoved him aside, Anthony raced around the bed, and David watched as it hit the ground.

A bright, tinkling sound filled the room as Anthony drew both his guns and Sarah raised her sword, both stepping back as a flickering shape rose into the air. David’s brain felt noisy, but… grounded. Clearer, feeling a bit sick though present.

“She’s in a fuckin’ tutu,” Anthony sputtered out, eyes wide. David didn’t have the clearest sight when it came to spirits’ physical forms, only a flicking outline. “She’s a dancer, and… she’s smiling.”

And Jack’s laughing hadn’t stopped.

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helicrazy · 1 year

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{ apathetic-until-distracted } 🍆? We have yet to make them interact, but I'm curious!

@apathetic-until-distracted

Dead End groans as he awakens from his recharge. Generally, his body always feels stiff like an offlined body, yet this time around it felt... fulfilled? In such a way that he experienced the most intense overload of his life. Except his vague processor is having a difficult time trying to recall who he was with and what exactly happened. He can only wait till his systems are online and sit tight.

Ah. That’s right. The Porsche remembers being on a sofa. He can detect the soft cushion on his back plating. Where ever he is, it’s comfortable and only slightly better than being on the cold floor in the Nemesis.

The Stunticon’s legs and arms extend to stretch out his joints. Then gets a little surprise from each servo grazing against something on the couch. His left brushes what feels like a rectangular stick, which he discovers right away is a device used for smoking substances. It would explain why his memories were a little fuzzy. Dealing with the aftermath of being high and all.

His right servo feels cables, two of them, and it didn’t take a genius to know that he was currently connected to someone. Feeling his cord plugged into whoever’s port and theirs into his. With the gestalt bond so quiet he can only assume that it was not a Stunticon beside him.

Dead End’s visor finally flickers online and the first thing he sees is a video playing on a screen in front of him. That quickly distracts him from scanning around the room once noticing that it was no normal movie. It’s a snuff film. Upon observing he spots a familiar grey and teal-looking helicopter appearing on the screen, pressing a sword against a tied-up mech’s spark casing. Suddenly he feels a mixture of pleasure and exhilaration that shoots through the cables and into his frame. Building up another charge as he hears a well-known giggle to his right.

“Oh goodie. You’re alive. I honestly thought you died there for a second.”

The memories come flooding back to the Stunticon.

Thinking about death wasn’t enough, he wanted to actually experience it, but not in a way that could actually offline him. Primus forbid Motormaster would destroy the whole ship if he did such a stupid stunt. Thus he decided to ask someone who had the best knowledge about it. And he’ll be honest, going into Combaticon territory to talk to Vortex of all mechs seemed like a death sentence itself, but he knew the copter would be thrilled about the offer.

He’s welcomed into Vortex’s room, gets told to sit down, and watches the grey mech prepare the show. Then grabs some smoking sticks and pulls out their cable before sitting down beside the Stunticon. He’s somewhat skeptical at first but accepts the cable exchange, grabs a stick, and begins smoking while following Vortex’s instructions.

Keep your spark pulse low. Shut off all systems one by one to ensure he didn’t cause a complete shutdown. Be free of any thoughts and simply let his processor feel like it was floating in the skies. His vision was to stay on the screen. Watching back-to-back deaths of mechs sparks or the lights in their optics fade out.

Vortex did the rest of sending pulses of demise and pain over the cable. Having been in the war much longer than Dead End has, he’s clearly come up against death more often. So he knows exactly what it feels like and gives it all to the Stunticon.

And it was beautiful.

Enough so that he ended up passing out after having the roughest overload he has ever felt.

Did he... really just do that? Did he just get off of the feeling of dying or was that all the Combaticons doing?

“So, you want another go?”

Dead End peers over to the grey mech. His processor is swimming with responses to give them but he can’t spit any out. Instead, he sends a hint of acceptance over the cable.

Frag it.

He does.

#apathetic-until-distracted #{{ Aaghajfgah this is more so my version of Dead?#Apologies as this got a little dark #Stuck to plug n play as I didn't think Dead would accept sticky interfacing #with Tex right off the bat #}}#G1 Verse #Not Safe For Bots

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i-am-kone-uzina · 2 years

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So...we're travelling between trade cities right now (I'm usually super nomadic; I think Jason finds the constant moving a bit unsettling, though).

Anyways, some xina (Jason's note: "A xina is an Ekxina who goes by xi/xir pronouns") in another truck in our caravan was saying that xi heard something rattling. I pulled our truck alongside to check it out. I couldn't see anything visibly wrong, so I radioed the caravan leader (gi/gir). Gi said that as long as the vehicle itself isn't shaking, then it's probably just a loose mounting (probably for a tail light or dust flap), and not worth stopping the caravan for.

For context, I usually travel with Ajokona-sponsored caravans, mostly because I have a lot of childhood trauma around unlicensed caravans. The extra price per ticket is worth the safety and lack of PTSD triggers. So, when you travel with the Ajokona, the rule is if any vehicle is showing concerning signs of wear/damage, then all the vehicles need to halt. When this happens, everyone needs to get out of their trucks, do a full inspection on every vehicle, take note of everything, and file all inspections with the leading Ajokona escort vehicle. It's a whole process so the Ajokona can log repairs and potential sabotage and such. Probably make sure the right people get their bills posted, too...

Obviously, this is a fucking chore, and is really annoying in the blasting heat of the dead deserts between trade cities, so people are not keen on stopping, and prefer to do all the inspecting once they reach port.

So me and the caravan leader thought this was a settled matter and wasn't gonna come up again until we got to our destination in a few days.

But then a few minutes later, we hear one of the Ajokona on the radio, telling the aforementioned Ekxina that they are violating safety code. Of course, Jason and I are curious and bored, so we pull alongside the kona's truck again, AND XI HAD TIED XIR LEGS TO THE SIDE OF THE TRUCK, AND IS HANGING OFF THE SIDE, UPSIDEDOWN, TRYING TO GET A GOOD LOOK AT THE UNDERSIDE OF THE VEHICLE, WHILE IT IS IN MOTION.

Xi just couldn't leave it alone, and didn't want to stop the caravan, and thought there was a sneaky solution!! My dear kona, just leave it be!

So, obviously, xi didn't hear the Ajokona on radio over sounds of xir own terrible life decisions, so Jason radios back explaining as much, and the order (of course) goes out telling the caravan to stop. Luckily, this idiot was not the only one in the truck (autopilot is good enough, but I don't trust it sometimes), and xir driver stops the vehicle.

Xi's looking around, feathers inflating from embarrassment, possible heatstroke, and headrush, and asks why we stopped.

Jason tells back, roughly translating a Human phrase into Kaskhoruxa: "MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, YOU ARE HANGING UPSIDE-DOWN OFF THE SIDE OF YOUR TRUCK!"

So we help xir down, and now we all gotta do this fucking inspection thing on all our vehicles. Turns out, somewhere along the way, a fucking rock must have hit a guard plate underneath the truck, which yanked hard on a mounting, so one half of it was just hanging free, rattling about. This is exactly what the caravan leader had guessed.

River of piss, this could have fucking waited until we arrived at the trade city. Dear travelers: the Ajokona watches your fucking caravan, so don't do stupid shit and think they aren't gonna stop all the trucks for your dumb ass. If you want to hang off the side of the truck like a true pisser, then maybe stick with the unlicensed caravans where safety is just a fucking suggestion half the time. Must be new to the Ajokona trips. Wouldn't surprise me if xi's only riding with us to avoid a hit, with antics like that...

Sorry if I sound a bit biased and angry, but I was just stuck in the blazing hot, dry, desert air for the duration of a supervised maintenance inspection of my own vehicle, which is in excellent condition, by the way. Jason is sweating like crazy, holding a chilled wet towel to his neck. Hopefully we continue moving soon. Xi's probably getting a nickname before this trip is done.

#oc blog #world building #conlang #spec bio

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spookykittyboo · 2 years

Text

Small Moment

Connecting with Thomas for the first time.

THIS MIGHT BE A LIL TOO LONG

It has become a blur now, when, where and how. You can't even remember why you're still here, and you dont even fight the feeling of comfort you created for this place. It was all hot, dirty, just a piece of mess and yet somehow this is enough for you. Grateful even.

You are now on your own feet walking, your hands touching the walls around you but you will always remember when you can't even have control over your own body. Tied up. Strangled. Normal. You could've run and look back at all this as hell. No, you stay. You see this as a.... home.

...

You're humming a familiar song in your head, cutting up some meat to put in a sandwhich. Moving your body to the sound of the music you're playing. You can still all the sounds from the basement but you manage to keep doing what you're doing besides, it has become a bird chirping noise to you. Somewhat of an everyday routine to hear, not at all a horror to your ears, anymore.

But instead, the man who makes those scream, is a mystery to you. He never talks once, maybe only a few words. You're starting to get confuse as you remember all of the things you know about him. "Is he..." you keep questioning your experience of watching him. Again, you're still unsure of your thoughts on him, it changes because he will always surprise you in different ways. And as weird as it sounds, he never really leaves your head. You're too curious to just leave him out and you can't really understand why.

Is it his silence?

His act?

Empathy?

Or something you dont want to admit...

You know the story of him. Luda once told you while she tugged you in, she explained the whole thing with her own way, which sounded like a poetry to you. The pain he went through, the scars he has. Those what they called "horrendous scars" never really bothers you, it never stops you from looking at him secretly. You probably couldn't admit it to yourself but you always know that it's an awe. You watch the man doing anything he does, walking, lifting or helping Hoyt. A little smile would also go a long the way, but of course you didn't notice the smile that appear out of nowhere. As you're to focused on Thomas.

Day by day, your curiosity grows like a stabbing pain. You can not bear the heavy weight of all your longing for him and it might weird to say, but nothing can express what you're feeling for him. With him never having any contact with you makes you want to dig deeper even more. Well maybe once, when he carried you over his shoulder to take you away from everyone and the whole world. But that one moment is not enough.

...

You have a plate of sandwhich in your hand and a glass of warm milk in the other, you walk your way till you can see the stairs leading to the basement. You can't shake the fear off. Yes, you're in awe of him but also, he can skin you off and you'll be his new mask. All of the thoughts are rushing in your brain like cold water. "Hello." you said, a little loud. You couldn't detect any noise you heard before. Just a light noises and probably the sound of his heavy steps. "He-hello... are you... there?" you step down by your left foot. Passing one stair. Then you get too confident to pass another.

When you hit the 7th, you hear a loud bang. Your eyes widens, as the horror enters your body, sending shiver all over your body. "Hello? Are you here?" you keep looking down, unsure of what to do. Another step? Going back? "Wh-what should i do? Shit!" you whisper under your breath. "I dont think i-" you gasps, stepping back but all you find is yourself falling on your back, hitting the hard stairs. He appears in front of you, darken your existence with his huge shadow. "Y-you... you..." you still have the food in your hands eventhough the milk spills itself on you a little and touches your arm.

He stands there. Wondering why you have yourself down here. His eyes traces all over your body, he starts with your feet he can see the how dirty they are, because you would go around the house barefoot. He gets closer to you, both of his hands are wiping themselves on his apron. You couldn't tell anymore what he has on his apron, blood, dirt, anything is brutal and it's a mixed of color.

You're panting with your hazy vision. "You're... you're Thomas aren't.... you?" you dont know whether it's the fear that strikes you or you're mesmerizes by his figure. What's real and what's not is something you can't really decide.

"Y-you... you want to eat, Thomas?" the amount of fear you have, starts to wash away little by little. "I brought you food..." you stand on your own feet, showing him the food then put it on the stair slowly. "It's not the meat you guys eat. But i-i think it will be good... for you..." to be honest, you're starting to shy away from him, with his eyes still nailing themselves to you it's hard not to feel intimidated. Just when you're about to make it back upstairs, you have a little, maybe sick or crazy idea. "Or, you can sit here with me." you sit yourself down on the stair, bringing the plate to your lap, siding the glass closer to you giving him a place to sit. "Here, Thomas." you pat the space next to you. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of nerve wrecking terror he gives you. Just. By. Standing. There.

He follows your so called command, moving towards the empty space you gives him. It makes you wonder even more. He can give in? He sits right next to you with his broad shoulder touching yours. Of course we all know why, the man is a giant. He hunch his back with his head down, but he gives you side eyes, still trying to understand something behind yours. "Here, i made it." you smile giving him the plate. The man gives you nothing but a huff and looking away from you. You dont know if it's out of stupidness or you're just going insane by now but giving up is not an option.

"Do you want me to help?"

Now, you onlt have his back as the view. But even with no face and just a dirt bathed clothes you can still see the vicious path he has gone through. Your eyes goes down to his hand. Each fingers represents the hard work he has to put to each of his shoulder, they're unrecognizable as his hands turn to a darket color due to the blood stained. "Thomas, here i can help you. Please look here." his head turns to you, and you greet him with a smile on your face. You hold one piece of sandwhich in your hand trying to feed him. If he even let you.

Hopefully, he will sink to your warm embrace. Cause there is nothing but pure tenderness you want to give him. You want him to feel safe. Even with his beast like figure, you know there is somethimg else, more human than the whole world behind that mask. "Here." you feed him the small piece, gently, through the opening of his leather mask. You push the food in, and surprisingly, he eats it. One bite, then when he starts to feel the taste of it in his mouth he's going range mode eating the food, which startles you. Makes you pull your hand in a sudden move. To say, your face is in a shocking state. And he's too busy eating the food to notice your reaction. But after he finish, he look back at you. This time you could not help but notice his eyes are no more showing a hostile brutality, it's almost like a cry for the affection he longs for. "Do you like it Tommy?" you asked him tilting your head.

" Hmm?" you smile gently to the soft giant. You keep digging for an answer from him. You find him with his head down. "Yes? Do you like it?" still no answer, now you starting to wonder if he's able to talk his mind out. "C-can you say it Thomas?" you can hear the desprate attempt of yours, trying to pull him out of his silence. He let out an angrily grunt from inside that brown mask. "Thomas..." you stutters "It's okay." you reach slowly at his shoulder, afraid of getting a wrong reaction. Once you settle your hand there, you can feel his body relaxing to your touch. Something you thought you could only feel in your wildest dream. "You can nod." giving him a comfort laugh to coax him into expressing his feeling.

He nods, looking at you for a while then come back to look at the ground. You don't show much of your excitement, but deep down you shoots firework at his cute respond. "Yes? You like it Tommy?" you laugh happily knowing he connects with you. And that is more than what you expected since you stand on the entrance of the basement. He nods again, seeing your responce, "Okay, yes. You can nod Tommy!" again, your excitement can't tame itself.

Without your own concious, your hand is on the side of his face "Tommy, you don't have to feel alone. I'm here." you whisper to him. Watching his head slowly leaning to your hand.

...

In this moment, there's nothing that could ruin what you and Thomas have. You keep feeding him the sandwhich and once a while you give him the glass of milk, while you help him drink.

Even he knows, nobody can have this moment but you and him. This small moment.

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todoscript · 3 years

Text

how he would ask you out

request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺

characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character

tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader

author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write

SHINSOU HITOSHI

two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.

what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.

you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.

you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.

initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.

however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.

at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.

appalled… but also very grateful.

eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.

no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.

shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.

however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.

unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.

keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.

although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.

that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.

his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.

“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.

through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.

it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.

without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.

the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”

you blinked. “y-yeah..?”

“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”

shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.

“i’d love to.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.

every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.

it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.

at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.

he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.

but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.

always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.

it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.

tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.

even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.

to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.

she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.

the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.

you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.

luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.

“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”

upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.

“uh… well–”

“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”

after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.

“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”

tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.

as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.

“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.

unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.

with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.

“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”

it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.

finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”

nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”

“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.

bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.

unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.

the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.

the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.

noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.

hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.

“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.

“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.

“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”

he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”

at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.

mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.

you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.

rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.

but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.

“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”

there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.

midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.

todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.

todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.

but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.

after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,

“but i’m not sure how to do it.”

though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.

“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.

“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”

midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”

pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.

despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.

that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.

“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”

listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.

he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.

eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.

through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.

“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.

“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.

that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.

“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.

“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.

“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.

the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”

nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.

when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.

the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”

“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.

“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.

“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.

#bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha headcanons #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #tamaki x reader #todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha scenarios #mha headcanons #shinsou hitoshi x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x y/n

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edhellen · 3 years

Text

How Did The Car Get Here?

or: why the impala being in dean's heaven means it isn't really heaven

[content warnings: mention of the finale (15x20), though no screenshots are included because i can’t force myself to rewatch it]

okay so i'm finally cracking my knuckles and getting into a meta post after the finale, and it started because marlo and i watched scoobynatural the other month and of course that means some new revelations about the finale came to light, right? right (this is the grain of salt i'm throwing at you <3 it's gonna read like the fan fiction meta. that’s a warning)

you might be thinking, "ely, what the hell does scoobynatural have anything to do with the finale." and to that i say, surprisingly quite a lot

the basic premise of this episode is that sam, dean and cas are whisked away to a tv world (scooby doo) and have to save the people (characters—HEROES, hint hint) in it from a real-world ghost. it's revealed later that the ghost has been tied to a pocket knife that a real estate developer has been putting everywhere in order to scare shop owners into giving their stores to him. (wiki description that might’ve put it better than i could)

when sam and dean first arrive, almost immediately sam says, "how did the car get here?" but more importantly i’d like to ask: why is the car here?

so, let’s get into it.

[ID: A screenshot from “Scoobynatural” of the Impala at night. Sam and Dean stand to the left of the frame. It is captioned with Sam saying “How did the car get here?” / End ID.]

it feels like many of us, including dean himself in the finale, were surprised (read: offended) to see the Impala in heaven. what's the purpose? it's obviously inanimate, and though dean gives her a gender and a name, it doesn't make her "real," nor does it give her a soul, which seems like a heavenly prerequisite. so how—or why is the car there at all?

in scoobynatural, Baby is used simply as a means to get from one place to another (as vehicles do) UNTIL it becomes apparent that the ghost they're hunting is actually a ghost. then, the real purpose baby serves is to provide weapons and hunting materials in order to take down the big bad.

[ID: Two screenshots from “Scoobynatural.” In the first one, Velma is speaking and fixing her glasses, surrounded by the Scooby Gang. Scooby and Shaggy are on the left side of the frame, and Daphne and Fred are on the right. It’s night time. The caption reads, “We don’t have the proper tools or weapons.” The second screenshot depicts a cartoon version of Sam, with the caption, “That’s okay. We do.” / End ID.]

mind you, sam and (especially) dean weren't aware of why they'd been whisked into the tv in the first place, or that there was any "real" danger at all. dean was actually enjoying it a LOT, stuffing his face with much-too-tall sandwiches, hitting on daphne, and gaping at the mystery machine in awe. the Impala being there with them seemed insignificant (dean even says so)... until it isn’t, and her true purpose is revealed—

[ID: Two screenshots from “Scoobynatural.” The first one shows a shot from the perspective of inside the Impala’s trunk. Sam and Dean are surrounded by the Scooby Gang on either side of them, with Scooby, Shaggy, and Cas on the right side of the frame, and Velma, Daphne and Fred on the left. The caption describes the trunk unlocking. The second screenshot is of the contents in the trunk: several weapons like a wooden stake, various guns, an axe, a knife, and an arrow. / End ID.]

so, with the Impala appearing in the Scooby universe with all the equipment they could ever want...or need or...dream, doesn’t that remind you of what bobby says in 15x20? let’s see...

[ID: A screenshot of the 15x20 transcript. It’s a snippet from Bobby’s line, which reads, “You got everything you could ever want...or need or...dream. So, I guess the question is...what are you gonna do now, Dean?” / End ID.]

best of all, right after Bobby says this, Dean spots the Impala and decides to go for a drive:

[ID: A screenshot of the 15x20 transcript. It reads, “(Dean looks away from Bobby and sees the Impala, with the original KAZ 2Y5 license plate, parked on the road).” / End ID.]

let me rewind a bit to something i said earlier. “sam and (especially) dean weren't aware of why they'd been whisked into the tv in the first place, or that there was any "real" danger at all.” in my theory for 15x20, I think it’s actually quite a similar situation, in that they are fooled into thinking there is no real danger and that heaven is just...heaven. bobby is there, along with some (crappy) beer and dean’s parents are there, and— wait, doesn’t bobby hate john? and hang on...you’re telling me the beer in heaven is crappy? and hey, wasn’t jack acting a bit strange after becoming god? what was up with that?

a lot of things about the finale just...don’t add up. and the impala is there, even though Baby doesn’t have a soul and therefore could not be/manifest itself in heaven (just as she couldn’t actually be in scoobynatural because she wasn’t there when sam and dean got sucked into the tv). so we’re back to asking: why is the car here?

i’m going to just take a shot in the dark here and say that maybe it’s for the same reason that she was there in scoobynatural. to serve a purpose when they realize that there’s actually a big bad to be fought—that things aren’t exactly as they seem.

as to who the big bad is, take your pick!! it could be chuck!jack, or the Empty (it is still loud in there after all), it could even be a djinn dream. but throwing Baby into heaven for seemingly no reason other than to have dean drive her for like fifty years just seems ridiculous to me. she’s got weapons in her trunk, weapons that the heroes (good place to remind you that there is LITERALLY a s15 ep called The Heroes’ Journey) can use to their advantage.

there’s a lot that points to something being off about the finale. but personally, i think Baby might be our biggest clue.

kirk out.

#metas #my post #rambleoncas meta #FINALLY DROPPING THIS WAAAH #described #finale denial #spn 15x20 #creativecaviar #klinejack #chocolatecakecas #roc original #spnclownpals

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noctumbra · 4 years

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request

summary ─ “why don’t we finish up here and see what we can do with you, hm?” you asked him with a low voice when you pulled back. bucky swallowed as he nodded. he knew this was going to be a long night and he was up for that.

pairing ─ beefy!chubby!bucky barnes x tiny!reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, ass play, ass eating, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, anal sex, dildos, cockrings, strap-ons, bucky is getting pegged y’all, dirty talk, pet names

a/n ─ one sweet as hell nonnie asked me if i have any headcanons/blurbs/fics about beefy/chubby bucky getting pegged this morning and i had brainwave skjfksdfsdf hope you like it! please leave a comment if you do! thank you <3

chubby!bucky masterlist

Being a Disaster Bisexual™ since birth, discovering that part of himself in college; Bucky liked bottoming for his male partners. He liked receiving their undying attention all to himself and liked letting himself go under their pleasant touches.

He hadn’t felt that way, nor did he let himself go in that way, ever since you started dating. It wasn’t that he was thinking about getting fucked by someone while being with you, no. Bucky wasn’t a cheater, and he wasn’t thinking becoming one any time soon.

It was just that─ he had been thinking about getting fucked by you.

The thought had planted itself in his brain after the fun night you had with your friend group at that one, cold November night. You’ve been drinking and playing stupid games while asking ridiculous questions to each other. The subject came up with Natasha asking you if you ever had had sex with a girl and you answering her by saying yes. Bucky’s brain had short-circuited for good five seconds before it could process the answer and─ He had been thinking.

Bucky wanted to ask you, to let you know that this was something he wanted to do with you, but he didn’t want to scare you off. He felt lucky having you by his side, as his girlfriend, looking the way he did: Unnecessarily big, tall and chubby. He didn’t like his slightly protruding tummy until he started seeing you. You made him feel like a normal person, and Bucky didn’t want to lose that, to lose you.

So, he didn’t ask.

He forgot that you could read him like an open book, though.

“What’s up with you lately?” You asked him one day while cleaning the table after a nice dinner which he cooked. “You’ve been squirmy and jumpy than ever.” Your eyes were narrowed both curiously and worriedly. Bucky cursed at himself as he dropped the plates into the sink gently. You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his thick waist, you placed your hands on his tummy. Rubbing it softly, you lifted yourself on your tip toes and kissed his shoulder.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice was filled with worry. “Are you okay?” Bucky sighed. He didn’t mean to make you worry, so he might as well just say what he had been thinking.

“I…” he started. “You─ You know I’ve been with men, right?” He turned his body to you, wrapping his arms around your body. You frowned. Bucky didn’t like the sparks that went off in your eyes. Your face suddenly looked sad, your eyes filled with tears and you bit your lip.

“Are you seeing someone else?” You asked. The hurt he heard in your voice made him realize what he said and how it sounded.

“Oh, fuck. No!” Bucky exclaimed. “Jesus, I’m an idiot. No, baby. I’m only seeing you.” You sighed in relief. “I can’t believe myself─” Bucky chuckled nervously. “I didn’t mean it that way, I promise.”

“I thought you were going to leave me,” you whispered. You were blinking your eyes furiously to stop the tears from rolling down. Bucky placed his hands on your face and stroked your cheeks.

“I would never,” Bucky whispered back. “You know you’re the one for me, honey. I’m sorry it sounded like that.” He kissed your cheeks and stroked your cheeks some more.

“Then what are you talking about?” You asked him, your face was now confused. Bucky exhaled, defeated.

“I’ve been with men; dated and… had sex with them, you know it,” he started, and you nodded. “I, um, I also told you that I liked bottoming, and uh… I’ve been thinking that maybe, maybe you, um. Fuck, it’s harder than I imagined,” Bucky chuckled. “You had sex with girls before, you said so when Nat asked you. I have been thinking that maybe you’d, uh…” Bucky rolled his eyes at himself as he whispered a ‘fuck it’. “I was wondering if I could bottom for you.”

You blinked.

Then blinked again.

“You─” Cutting yourself off, you blinked yet again. “I─” Suddenly, you started to laugh. The tears you were trying to stop were now rolling down on your cheeks from laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Bucky whispered, feeling hurt. You sniffed and coughed in order to collect yourself.

“I know, baby, it isn’t,” you said and chuckled. “It’s just─” You giggled for a couple seconds, and then taking a deep breath, you stopped laughing. “I thought you were going to leave me for some other boy while you were just trying to ask me if I’d fuck you with a strap-on.”

Well. Yeah, okay. Bucky could see why you were laughing.

Chuckling helplessly, “Still not funny,” Bucky murmured, his cheeks going red adorably. You smiled, surpassing a chuckle; you placed your hand on his cheeks and kissed him on the lips chastely. Bucky sighed into your kiss, nervousness melting away, he held your wrists in his very large hands.

“Why don’t we finish up here and see what we can do with you, hm?” You asked him with a low voice when you pulled back. Bucky swallowed as he nodded. He knew this was going to be a long night and he was up for that.

“Okay,” he whispered, and you kissed him one last time.

“Good boy.”

Bucky barely held back a whimper. This was, indeed, going to be a long, long night.

──

You bit your lip as you took in the sight before you.

Bucky was naked on the bed, his hands were loosely tied to the bedpost with a silk rope and you made him put on a cockring. His cheeks were pink, eyes were wide and pupils were dilated: He looked so good, so yummy, you could eat him up.

Hell, you could actually do that.

“You showered, right, baby?” You asked him as you trailed your nails over his nipple. Bucky whined from the back of his throat and nodded. “Hmm, good.” You leaned and took his nipple in your mouth; sucking and biting just a little. Bucky moaned. He forgot how fucking good it felt when someone else played with his nipples. They were sensitive already, and you playing them the way you were doing now wasn’t helping his situation.

You pulled, watching the pink nipple turning red. “You like getting eating out?”

“Oh, shit. Yes, yes, fuck yes!” Bucky sobbed and his hips bucked at the thought of you eating him out. You smirked. You loved this side of Bucky: all desperate to have something in his ass to pleasure him. You tapped him on the hips, signaling him to move. “On your belly, baby boo.”

Bucky moaned softly as he flipped himself on his belly, tilting his ass up just a little. You hummed. Your boyfriend, big everywhere and fucking soft all around, was laid out in your bed like a feast made for only you. Humming louder, you gripped his juicy, soft thighs and squeezed them softly.

“You look so good like this, James,” you breathed. Bucky preened under the compliment, going all red and sweet under your hands. Your hands moved from his thighs to his ass, digging your nails into that bubbly, peachy ass, you listened to him groan into his pillow. “So fucking good, hmm.”

“Please,” he whispered, “Oh, shit, baby, please!” You hushed him with a light slap on his ass cheek, watching the soft flesh jiggle slightly. Bucky moaned but getting the message, he quieted down.

“Tilt it higher,” you ordered. Bucky did as you said and lifted his ass a little higher. “Good boy,” you moaned and swiped your finger right over his hole. You watched the muscle flutter, his cock twitch between his legs, and you smirked. “Oh, you’re a responsive one.” Bucky whimpered as he nodded. You chuckled darkly as you lowered your lips to his hole, placing a kiss over it. Bucky inhaled deeply.

Smiling, you kissed again and again. Your tongue poked the tiny hole, getting it wet and even twitchier. You could hear him chanting out ‘please’s. His hips were bucking up against your face with tiny thrusts, but you didn’t mind it. He was enjoying the hell out of this, and that was the important thing.

Deciding to go for it, you licked a flat line from his perineum to his hole, closing your mouth around the tiny thing and sucking just a little.

“Fuck! Oh,” Bucky gasped, arms pulling against the tie as a kneejerk reaction. You continued to lick and suck on his hole, your spit making all kinds of wet sounds one could think of. Your hands were grabbing and squeezing his ass cheeks rhythmically, you felt the soft fuzz that was covering his ass tickling your face.

“Hmmm,” you hummed appreciatively. Your jaw was working fast, tongue poking his hole and forcing it to let you in, you sneaked one of your hands down to his cock. Bucky barely surpassed a shout when you started to jack him off slowly.

He was getting stimulated from both ends: his hard cock was in your hand, getting jacked off slowly and you were holding him tight, and you were eating his ass out like fucking champion, Bucky was about to pass the fuck out.

You pulled back with a loud, obscene sound. Your spit was covering both your chin and his ass. You smiled, satisfied, and poured some lube onto your fingers. Running your fingers up and down over his hole, you slid one finger into him.

“Ohhh, yeah, yes,” Bucky moaned, he was riding your finger with slow moves. You smirked and tightened your hand even more around his cock, causing him to gasp loudly. You pulled your finger out only to push in again, and you repeated to movement until he was able to take another.

In five minutes, you were pumping three of your fingers in and out of him at a very rapid pace. The lube and spit you left behind were making obscenely wet sounds, your hand was still jacking him off, but it was so fucking slow.

Bucky was going mad beneath you.

“The sounds you make, Bucky,” you moaned, Bucky wasn’t the only one going mad. You were dripping wet between your thighs. You had the strap-on around your waist already, and you could feel your slick wetting your thighs. Hell, you just felt one of them rolling down to your knee.

Bucky breathed out loudly. “Please,” he groaned. “God, fuck, please, get in me. I’m goin’ mad, baby doll, please.” You could see his face; it was all red and couple tear streaks were visible on his cheeks. His eyes were so dark and his lips were so red that you felt your eyesight going a little red with the possessiveness that suddenly flared up inside you.

“Yeah?” You hissed, “You want it in you, pretty boy? Do you, hm?” You grabbed the dildo that you attached to the strap-on and ran its tip up and down over his hole just to make him moan. “Oh, fuck yeah you do. You’re desperate for it, ain’t ya?” Bucky nodded.

“Yes, yes, I am, please!” You moaned at his despair. Squeezing his ass cheek, you let go of his cock and walked even closer to his ass on your knees. You lined up the dildo right against his hole. “I wan’ it, please!” Bucky begged and wiggled his ass a little. You hushed him. Pushing your hips forward just a tad, you let the tip of the dildo slide inside of him slowly.

You could see his face, could see that his jaw dropped open and drool making its way on the pillow he had his face buried on just a couple minutes ago.

He was fucking drooling, and you didn’t even slide the dick in him properly yet.

Fuck.

You pushed your hips forward even more, sliding in a bit faster now. Bucky was still wiggling his hips, thrusting back and forth and sort of riding the fake cock. You bit your lip. “Gimme,” Bucky whispered. “Gimme it, c’mon.”

You did.

You slid all the way inside him, making him howl with pleasure, you saw his cock twitch wildly. You waited for a couple seconds so that he could adjust the feeling. It must have been a long time for him, you thought.

“You okay, honey?” You asked him, leaning over his body and covering as much of his skin as you could. Bucky swallowed and wet his lips, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, yes. You can move,” he whispered. You kissed all the available naked skin that was in your reach and hugged him tightly once before you lifted yourself off of him.

You grabbed his hips in your hands as leverage and started moving. Your pace was slow at first, but it gained speed. Soon enough, you were snapping your hips against his wildly, all the smacking sounds were echoing in the bedroom and mixing with Bucky’s whimpers and moans. Your nails were digging into the soft skin of his belly, his cock was swinging back and forth and you knew he was loving the every single second of what you were doing.

“Ohn, yes, fuck,” he gasped when you grazed his prostate. “Ohhh, fuck, there! There!” He pulled on the ropes again, and they came off. You didn’t mind it; he could do whatever he wanted to do as long as he was enjoying it. Bucky leaned over his elbows. His hips were moving and responding your thrusts with his own.

“Are you close?” You whispered as you fastened your pace even more. Bucky nodded frantically. His face and chest were red; sweat was beading on his forehead and between his pecs. You could see his sweet belly jiggling with the strength of your thrusts. You moved your hand to his cock again, but you kept it close to where the cockring was. “Tell me when you’re about to, okay?” He nodded again.

“Now,” he moaned, “Now, fuck, now, now!” You popped the cockring free, stimulating his orgasm even more, and Bucky shouted. He fell on his chest, thighs twitching and his cock spurting thick, white ropes of come onto the bed, Bucky whimpered. You gradually slowed down with your thrusts. Now it was just a lazy pace.

You eased out of him and pulled the thing off of you with a flick of your fingers. You grabbed the cloth you placed on the drawer, you cleaned the sweat on his body and cleaned the as much come as you could off the bedding. After ditching the cloth, you lay behind him and cuddled him close to you. Bucky hummed.

“Thank you,” he slurred. You kissed his shoulder and tightened your arms around him. “Damn, honey,” he giggled then. “You fucked me better than the guys in college.” You snorted out a laugh and listened to his giggles.

You cuddled on the bed like that for… hours? Days? Weeks? You didn’t know. You just knew that it felt good and peaceful, and both of you loved every second of it. After some time, though, Bucky turned to you in your arms and he had a different look in his eyes.

“Can I return the favor?” He asked, helping you understand what that different look meant. You raised a brow at him. He smirked and flipped you onto your back, peppering kisses all over your body and making his way south. You hummed when you realized what he was about to do.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered. “You took care of me so good. It’s been such a long time since I let it go like that, and now I wanna return the favor, okay?” You licked lips and nodded. Bucky grabbed your legs, throwing them over his shoulder, he lay down on his belly.

Rest of the night melted away with his head between your thighs, and you screaming his name as loud as you could.

──

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #chubby!bucky #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #beefy!chubby!bucky barnes

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namjoonchronicles · 4 years

Text

impression | yg

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 5.5k

↳ summary many forgot that when you marry someone, you marry their family too, at least that’s how Asian family is like

↳ warning that side of adulthood, lockdown because of pandemic, self-worth, over-sensitivity, pisces dude, married life conflicts

↳ song ariana grande ‘pov’

Just this morning you woke him up with ‘Daechwita’ blasting on his ear drums, dancing and prancing around the home gym in your spandex bra and sweatpants, rapping to every word he wrote, with more swag than ten Yoongis combined. Forehead glistened with sweat, rosy cheeks and more life in you than he ever had. He leaned by the door sill just watching in utter disbelief and renewed admiration to just how much you loved his music. It never gets old. But how the tables have turned, two minutes before midnight.

You’ve locked yourself in the bathroom, him leaning his back on the wall, speaking through the closed door, calling out for you.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through. Fat chance, but at least he tried.

Must be something in his drink last night for him to hear his own song even when he is sleeping, Yoongi thought. But he didn't drink last night? Yoongi pulled the duvet down his head, contorting his entire face and the blaring boom bass music, rippling through the miniature figure standees of famous baseball players he had lined up on the TV cabinet. The music was so loud, the pictures hung on the walls began rattling at each beat drop. Where is this music coming from??

Two seconds in, and the empty spot next to him spoke volumes. All answers were as clear as day.

Yoongi sat up on the bed, duvets pooled around his waist as he yawns loudly and his bed hair flopping on either side leans towards, some baby strands standing in all directions. He scratches his arms, neck and belly as he comes awake. Face puffy, eyes barely open, and cheeks as circle as they could be. He gathered the duvet to the side and pushed himself off to the edge of the bed while shoving his feet into his indoor slippers. He tried to fetch his phone from the bedside table and saw it vibrating on its own from the loud music.

"Better stop her before the neighbours come complaining…"

He waddles about the room lazily, dragging his feet, his arm reaching for the switch panel before he even arrives to have the curtain open and let the sun in. The automated curtain aligned and folded creases perfectly as it gathered itself to each designated side. The bed, the bed will be made up later after he advises his wife not to deafen the whole neighborhood with his albums and he could finally think.

The teal-colored walls that extended along the hallway of the house, decorated with wedding pictures, family pictures, his signed baseball jerseys, picture of his basketball days (the one he jumps for a slam dunk and especially proud of, you know the one), your graduation picture (with him professionally photoshopped in) and some lovely polaroids of your first unofficial date that he insists was official. More on that later. Yoongi walks pass this memory lane with a stern face, shooting glares ahead, marching in the direction of the music, which seems to be coming from the gym. What he saw was a petite figure, all hyped up, sweaty, holding up a water bottle to your lips like a microphone, mouthing his rap like it was your own. You saw him in the mirror reflection but instead of coiling away, shy, you spat his rap to his face with flaming confidence. Yoongi looks down with a shy smile, eyes turning small and polite, skin blushing pink with second hand embarrassment. His face is hot and your sweaty skin, hair plastered to your neck and forehead, in revealing spandex was not helping. Neither is your swag. He clamped his lips with his teeth while you pulled his arm so he would join you. He protested lazily but didn't resist as hard. He throws his head back, whining dejections but you couldn't care less.

"Are you making your own concert here? Plagiarising my songs?"

You heard him and grinned widely at the mirror. He folded his arms and watched you dance seductively and just as the rap got to the 'my tongue sends boys and girls to China' part, the music stops and he is no longer next to you but by the stereo and turning it off.

"Yoongi! I was working out!" "People are gonna come and complain…" "They know who you are…" "They know my name from you…"

Screaming underneath him, that's what he meant. You rolled your eyes at him. He passed you a face towel with a sheepish smile. Wiping your face with it, you watched Yoongi unplug your phone from the sockets. It reveals several missed calls from your mother in law, Yoongi's mom.

"Mom called…" "Really?"

You moved closer to him to see. Yoongi reads the message she sent you outloud and the colors drained down your face.

"What do I cook? What do I do? What does she usually have for lunch? OMG, I don’t know. Do we even have kimchis left? I hadn't restocked…" "She likes fried dumplings and soy garlic chicken stew… it'll be okay. She said she is coming around noon. It's just a little over 8 am… Go take a shower."

You scurried to the bathroom and did as told. Yoongi made the bed while he waited. He turns the cordless vacuum cleaner on but it beeped soullessly because it wasn't charged. He sighed. You always forget to charge them after using them. He opted for a broom and dustpan instead. Yoongi disappears into his home studio, to take the shampoo he had been using and after-shower lotion for you to use. He twisted the knob, knowing you wouldn't lock them when you shower. Knock on the glass door of the shower and told you to use them. You nodded, passing him a look over your shoulder but he was out as quickly as he entered. That cold, cold steely husband.

You stepped out of the shower wrapped in towels with your hair dripping wet, hurrying to the hairdryer to dry your hair. Yoongi walks in with nothing but a towel around his waist. He passes you a chaste kiss on the shoulder first, then your cheeks before he continues to unravel his briefs and showered as well. The water trickles down his face, neck and shoulders, cascading down his speckless back, over the bum of his ass and wetting his happy trails at the same time. He aggressively rubs water over his face, the tips of his hair appear darker as it gets wet. You dressed up in your oversized hoodie, a pair of jeans and red converse, hair tied up in a bun, grabbing your purse for a quick run to the store. If your mother in law is coming, the least you could do is cook an all korean cuisine, prep nicely on the table so she knows that her son was taken care of nicely. Giving her a lasting good impression was your core priority as of now. And Yoongi would have been more than happy to do the grocery for you but this time, just this once, you want to show him that you are dependable too.

If there is anything you learned from korean cuisine is that food is prepared meticulously like you would, a form of art. Everything is placed neatly on a plate, and wrapped tightly. Taste and looks must be perfect. Everything had a sequence. Tradition and culture shapes the good people of Korea to what it is today. And for Daegu native, Yoongi's deep accent and habits become one of the most significant traits that flags a Daegu representative. You are obsessed with getting it right. Although you mostly don't understand the heavy accents he tends to let slip out once in a while, you were expecting to guess the words as it comes. His accents are one of the things that you loved about him. Daegu dialects are strong, and oozing masculinity. They are often direct and unapologetic so it might be heard as harsh. You couldn't tell apart if he is cursing or if he is just plainly just talking about his day when his friends stop by. He caught you a few times, staring blankly at him when he blurted out dialects out of frustrations, and he laughed them off when you accuse him of lying to you about what the words actually mean.

With his mom stopping by, the dialects are going to be thick and you would probably stare blankly most of the time. Communications are limited and Yoongi had to come back and forth to translate some of them.

Korean cooking is not your forte. Let's put that out there, in the open for everyone to see and understand. You are not familiar with it, and although you love some of it, some just don't fit your taste buds. But Yoongi is a full blown Korean. You make adjustments here and there, but it's not like he is always around for you to cook them often. That's why your korean cooking skills deteriorated. Even simple things like choosing which mushrooms to cook with takes 10 minutes longer than it probably should. You went with your heart and took the one you saw first.

Yoongi came out from the baths to see an empty room. Your perfume wafts over his nostril and it tattles about your whereabouts. Just as he was about to investigate, his phone shrieked a calling tone. It was Jungkook. Asking for a chord. He sounds desperate and bored to death. Being a good friend, Yoongi speds to his home studio after clumsily putting on some white tee on top of a grey shorts, halfway through and sending him several chords the little guy could work with, then pulling the rest of the shirt down as it loads. He swore he didn't take long but he found you already changing your clothes and starting to chop things on the chopping board, sloppily. He knows that it was not you to do things sloppily so he offered to help sharpen the knives.

"Soy garlic stew?"

You chewed your lips at him as he asked and nodded. Anxiety was written all over you. Your hands were already so shaky, and that's why you couldn't hold the knife properly, aside from it being blunt. You turned to the sink and began chopping the scallions with another knife Yoongi handed you.

“There are some potatoes I bought in the paper bags, I brought the mushroom I am familiar with, I am not sure if it's the one used in the stew. What time is it already? Is this enough time to even cook the stew? The chicken hasn’t thaw has it? I am not going to have enough time… She is going to know that the dumpling is store bought and I am putting my pride on the line…” you spoke nonstop, didn’t even hear Yoongi if he was saying anything, which you assumed he was quiet, so you became annoyed and, “Why aren’t answering any questions I have??”

Yoongi stood there, with a blank expression, “You wouldn’t even let me talk…”

You answered your own questions, and he was here listening to everything, opening his mouth and closing it before any word could come out because you bulldozed him with words, as he dug out the potatoes you were talking about, as well as the mushrooms.

“I’m sorry, I watched the youtube video on making the stew on the way to the mart and it seems pretty complicated, but doable… I think that the ginger and garlic goes in first,” you paused and sighed, “It’s been awhile since I cooked a proper meal for myself. I don’t know if I had it in me to even do this anymore…”

That’s right. While Yoongi was always away from the last two years, his work trips extended from 3 months to a whole year, and while studying for your master’s degree, you opt for simpler food, just enough for you to get by the day with a filled stomach. Most of your time is dedicated to your studies and laundry. Stopping by Daegu was hardly done, and if anything, you would just send some gifts her way. It is pretty awkward between you and his mother; language barriers, interests, and principles. You didn’t notice when Yoongi was standing behind you, his hand was on top of yours, soothing over your knuckles and he hijacked the scissors from your hands gently.

And he whispered softly atop of your head, “I got this.”

Just like that, he took over kitchen duties and let you handle the simpler stuff like, putting the pot on the stove, fill water in it, skin the potatoes, chopped them into large cubes, unstub the capsicum, peel the skin off of the chicken, peel the garlic and ginger. Yoongi’s instructions are clear and easy to follow. After all the things are chopped and prepared, he hands the ladle to you.

Your eyes widen. And you shook your head. Stepping back. Yoongi clicked his tongue and chuckled through his nose. Coax you. But no, you stepped farther back. He then took your wrist gently and placed the ladle handle in your palm.

“Trust me?” “I trust you, it’s me I don’t trust.”

“I’ll help you every step. Let’s go. Have confidence!” “You’re the multi billionaire, I’m just the struggling degree student with a part time job.”

“You’re Min Yoongi’s wife.” “I find that hard to believe sometimes…”

With another scolding tut of his tongue, you conceded. With a heavy heart.

The chopped chicken pieces are placed in a boiling water pot, and when its reddish flesh turns white and is cooked, it is drained and washed underneath cold running water to remove impurities. You watched quietly as Yoongi cleans them with his capable hands. His veins protrude, extending well over his forearms. The tip of his fingers were pinker than the rest of his hands, and he smoothes over those nooks and crannies the chicken pieces have. As ridiculous as it may sound, you were quite envious of the fact that those chickens have his full attention now. Next, the carrots.

The carotene source is peeled and chopped in large size. Yoongi helped guide your hands over the handle of the knife, because he is pretty particular on how big he wanted those carrots to be.

“Isn’t that too large?” You asked him in a small voice. They are half the size of your thumb. “No, it’s just nice…” he replied in a low voice, his lips just behind your ear, “It has to be in the same size as the potatoes, so it will cook at the same time.”

Your bottom grazed over his front and he learns to just keep you sandwiched in between the counter and him, so it won’t turn to something else. He is just as anxious as you are with his mom coming. Therefore, the percentage of him turning frisky is zero to none. The onions come next. They are chopped in half and then into fours. Yoongi paused and braced himself for tear gas attacks only there was none. He asks where you bought those onions, and you replied, it was grown in your colleagues garden. They were given for free. And he comments,

“They should sell these, we will be their first loyal customer! It doesn’t sting!”

You laughed as you prepared the fruits you bought. It was rock melon and some papayas. You avoided buying tangerine because you know she will bring some from her hometown, knowing how much Yoongi loves them. Daegu’s tangerines are very sweet and plump. There is nothing like it. Yoongi sliced green onions for the stew and extra hot chili peppers because his mom likes them spicy. Then he prepares the mixture for the broth.

“Now watch,” he instructed you, “Soy sauce, rice wine, red chilli pepper powders, minced garlic, two cups of sugar, red pepper paste, sesame oil, pepper. Mix well.”

Yoongi prepared a pot and placed the cleaned chicken pieces in them, added potatoes, carrots and water with the mixture he made just prior. Then, boil. After the chicken is cooked thoroughly, he adds onions. Then the scallions. Then salt to taste. You prepared the oven and Yoongi carried the pot to it to keep it warm until his mom arrived. Dumplings were pan fried. That one was simple. His mom doesn’t like her beverages too sweet, a simple plain water is enough.

When all the food is done, you turn to him at the same time he did. Sweats rolling down his sideburns and his thin white shirt clinging on his skin like he ran a mile. You approached him with a huge smile, swept his hair back to reveal his forehead and dabbed your inner wrist to wipe away his sweat all around his face. He sniggers through his nose. Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, you can’t help but plant a kiss on them. Nuzzling your face on his neck, you draped your arm around his shoulder and mumbled, “Thank you…”

He leans his cheek on your head and kisses one side of your brain, before exclaiming that you both need another shower after cleaning up the kitchen and turning on the air humidifier to chase away the smell of cooking.

“How was the journey?” you chirped. “The weather is scorching hot, the sun is melting me away before I can meet my son,” Yoongi’s mom complained in a thick Daegu accent, and when she stepped in, she gave you a glance and straight away went looking for her precious son. As expected.

“He was just out of the shower, he will come soon, mother,” you said the last word awkwardly, it doesn’t really roll off your tongue as comfortably as it should. She replied to you with a dejected “Hmm.”

You blinked and cast your eyes downwards, then up again to change the topic, “...Let me take you some cold drink… it must have been a torture, to walk around in such hot weather,” you sped to the kitchen and grabbed her a cold water in a tall glass.

“Hello mom…” Yoongi revealed himself from the hallway, gave his mother a hug that you didn’t receive when she walked in. “It wasn’t torture when I’ve come to see my son!” She suddenly changed her words, now she is all bright and cheerful, and you disappeared from her sight completely unless Yoongi looks over to you and includes you in the conversation. That too, wasn’t permanent. Yoongi learned that his older brother’s wife is carrying a baby and Holly had been snuggling to her tummy at every chance she gets. The sight would have been adorable and they were able to take a picture of it so Yoongi’s mom excitedly showed them to Yoongi. They both are sitting on the sofa while you were in the kitchen scooping up cooked rice into bowls of three.

“This sofa is new isn’t it? I didn’t see it the last time I was here,” his mom asked. “Yes, yes… do you like it?” Yoongi said and said you chose them. Then her enthusiasm dissipates. “I like it better without one. Now it’s too westernized,” his mom’s lips turned lopsided, continuing, “Did you know that hanging your legs down will disrupt the blood flow up to your brain? We better sit down on the floor when we eat, too…”

Yoongi prepared a Japanese folded table and pushed aside the coffee table that was there. Everything you’ve prepared on the dining table was moved to the Japanese one. When everything is set, you and Yoongi wait for his mom to start eating before you both do. It’s tradition. Even between man and wife, the older one begins eating first. Yoongi sips the stew and then you begin scooping the stew into your bowl. You were the only one eating mostly with a spoon instead of chopstick since you aren’t too accustomed to it. Yoongi’s mother said in a joking tone that you should start using the training chopstick used by toddlers.

Why are you extra sensitive today? She was just joking, but smiling is so hard right now. Your cheeks feel heavy and your shoulders stiffened. Yoongi carried the rest of the conversation effortlessly. The deep Daegu accent is already shifting your attention towards the fried dumpling instead. It was just a little over 45 minutes since she arrived, why does it feel like days?

“Dumplings, mother?” You chirped, attempted to use the chopstick and successfully landed them in her bowl.

Then she puts them back where they were, and said, “I don’t eat store-bought dumpling, darling,” before resuming to tell Yoongi the story about her neighbour getting into a real estate feud. You hold your breath in your throat and try not to think about it too much. Although you’ve finished your bowl of rice, Yoongi still hasn’t. He was busy nodding away to what his mother was saying. She barely touched the stew. When she turned to her food, you tapped Yoongi’s knee underneath the table and he looked at you wide eyed, darting at the stew. And Yoongi’s lips turned to the shape of an “O”.

“How do you like the stew, mom?” He asked. “It’s okay…” “My wife made it…” Yoongi said with a smug smile.

You smiled, shyly.

“It tastes exactly how Yoongi would cook it. I thought you cooked it, I know how horrible her korean cooking is, Yoongi… You don’t have to lie to me,” his mom passed.

After bidding her farewell at the door, Yoongi accompanied her to his brother’s incoming vehicle that fetches her. His brother made a promise to stop by when the baby arrives and when the Covid cases reduce a bit. You watched from the window from your bedroom and when the car drove off with Yoongi waving goodbye to his mom, your heart thudded differently.

Your eyes stung, and tears impending to fall as it collected around the brims. As you heard the front door beeping open to Yoongi returning, your feet dashed to the bathroom door, pushing it open as your tears rolled down your face like a dam broke.

Sensitive? Too soft? Was I too emotional? Am I not trying hard enough to be enough?

Yoongi walks in, to an eerily silent house. Ridding his shirt by pulling it over his head as he walks down the dimly lit hallway. His heavy footsteps heard across the floorings and you covered your mouth with your hand to not make any sound. He noticed that the bathroom light was on unlike the rest of the room.

“You’re showering alone? Traitor…” he pouted and wriggled the door knob and noticed it was locked from the inside. “I have a stomach ache,” you hoped you sound convincing. Your voice didn’t sound as shaky and you hope he didn’t catch on. “Okay…” he said, after a long pause. You turned the shower on to reduce the sound of you crying, and went back to sitting on the floor by the door, dug the heels of your palm into your eyes socket, and hugged your knees, sniffling.

“Hey…” his voice muffled through the door. “Hmm?” you replied, through a broken smile.

“Are you okay?”

Another dam broke.

Shit, I’ve started crying again. Why can’t I stop crying?! He is going to find out now… Fuck.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through.

“Was it mom? She says something you don’t like? You know how mom is, right? She doesn’t mean any of it…” now it’s Yoongi’s turned to bulldoze you with questions he himself answered.

Unable to take it anymore, you had to speak out, even if it means behind closed doors.

“I know she doesn’t like me as a daughter-in-law…” you spoke in broken voices. “Nonsense…” Yoongi passed, nonchalantly.

“No, will you please just listen to me?!” you raised your voice a bit, “I am not like your brother’s wife who cooks great Korean food, who sends her nice homemade desserts to her likings, and now is bearing a grandchild for her. I can’t cook, and had to rely on you a lot. She came over and she didn’t give me a hug like she did you, and the whole she doesn’t even speak to me unless I speak to her first, and even then, she shuts me down so I couldn’t say another word. I can’t even use a damn chopstick or make homemade dumplings she’ll eat!”

It’s Yoongi’s turn to lean his back on the door and hug his knees, then hang his head low.

“Suddenly the sofa is too westernized. And the glass doors letting in too much sunlight when I renovated it the way she wanted. It seems like everything I do is wrong and I just have no place in the Min’s household no matter how hard I try,” you sniffed, and, “To make matters worse she brought up the girlfriends you had in high school and how they cook her favourite food! Girlfriends! Plural! Here I thought you only had one… Jokes on me, I guess… It’s fine, honestly.”

There's nothing more terrifying than the word ‘fine’ you threw when you’re sad and Yoongi knows it. It signifies so many things. It indicates that you’re done, and you’re ready to let go of it, by shoving it under the rug like many other things your mother in law did to you ever since you met her. Yoongi shot his head up when the door opened and his eyes followed you in silence, a little solemn. You dried your hair, sitting on the makeup chair table, running the cool air Dyson hairdryer over the lengths of your hair. Yoongi crawled on all four and knelt behind you to hug your waist, nuzzling his face on your lower back. Then the tears returned, and kept falling.

Your gaze is stuck on the reflection of you in the mirror. What have we become?

It was one of those moments where no words seemed to suffice. Regrets and guilt becomes almost the same thing. Pointing the blame is the last thing on your mind. Choosing sides is difficult when so much is at stake. You may have unclasped his arm from around your waist, heard his wordless gesture and refused to see his face, but so much of him is in you. The fact you held on for so long was because of that man you love and married. Is this going to happen everytime your mother in law stops by?

Even then, you didn't want him to go against his own mother, nor do you want him to side with her… It was such a confusing situation.

Yoongi needs to return to the studio. He packs a few toiletries and clothes for him to wear while he is there. You helped him pack leftover food so you are not burdened to finish everything alone. The conversation shifts to what matters now. You carry your duty as a wife, his partner. You make sure that he is able to provide for this family and even though your emotions are once again neglected for the time being, you were glad that it actually occupied your mind and heart.

At the door, his manager carried his things and instead of leaving along with his manager, Yoongi told him to go first. You already know what comes next. But you aren't sure if you had it in you. One look in your eyes and Yoongi knows that you will rather die than have that conversation all over again. He ran his finger through your hair, lowered his lips to your forehead and stayed like that for awhile, and you said,

“Take care of yourself,” you spoke to his chest, breathing in his musky cologne for the days ahead without him. He stepped back, thumbed your cheek and pinched your chin, tilting your head back. He glanced at your lips while biting his own then backed away, to leave. As the view of his back got smaller and smaller, he exclaimed, “I’m going.” Not once did he turn behind to have one last look. And it was something Yoongi would do. Doesn’t matter if it's at the airport, or at the backstage, he will never look at you after he leaves you, even when he knows you’re right there standing, and looking at him. He says that, if he saw you standing there waiting for him, he will not be able to fight the urge to run to you. So he never looks back. The one thing that he always does before a work trip, is to kiss your forehead. Dr. Laurel Steinberg says, a forehead kiss indicates strong emotional intimacy.

But Yoongi says that a forehead kiss to him signifies a bond that goes beyond lust and love, it was your soul. It is to say, “I might be too far away to hold you, but my soul is yours.” It sends butterflies and confettis your way when he does it. It always feels warm and you always feel protected with a stamp of Yoongi’s lips on your forehead. It feels like a talisman. That no matter what, Yoongi is here.

Recovery. The emotional turmoil, the rollercoaster. You fill your time organizing the photos Yoongi took. With your final exams finished a week ago, you’re given a month off before you begin your final year. Yoongi now lives in his studio office because the album recording session begins and he is in every process. He is in charge of doubling and finalizing the tracks, directing and whatnot. Yoongi sends you a 1 minute 23 seconds video. Scowling at it, your face softened at the sight of him, recording himself in the studio. Dark circles doubled in size and his cheeks sunken. Poor thing hadn't been eating well did he?

“Hey, sweetie…” his familiar guttural voice resonated with your heart strings, “Sorry I haven’t been able to properly give you a call. It’s too late when I’m free, and I’m asleep when you’re awake. So I figured I’ll just send you a damn video, to hell with it.” You chuckled softly as your visions turned blurry.

“I think I will be addressing the recent issue we tucked away for later day. It’s later. You have never been good at fighting for yourself. It was something I don’t really understand because I’ve seen you fight my fight for me,” he glanced to the side and smiled fondly. You were unclear what situation he was talking about but you kept listening.

“You told me that I shouldn’t side with you because that would mean I am against my mother. Here’s what I truly think…” he breathed in and sighed loudly, “I think I should side with you. I spoke to my mom a few days ago, asked her how she is, and I told her several things I don’t like, like bringing up my past ex girlfriend, or how you can’t use the chopstick yet, or how your korean cooking isn’t great yet… how upset it made you and me. She told me that she was just jealous. I left home when I was 16. Come back when I am 20, married at 25. I will always be her son, I let her know that. But I am now someone’s husband, and I happen to cherish this someone, her heart and her wellbeing is my responsibility. I am not stolen from my mom, I consciously chose this person to be with me, to be her husband and built a home with her. And if she can’t respect that, then she cannot return to our house…”

You had to set the phone down and wipe your tears with the back of your hand.

“I’m done being a referee,” Yoongi continued after a long pause, “You’re gonna cry again, and I won’t be able to pass you tissue or give you a hug, I hope you understand what I’m trying to say. I am proud of you and all the little things you do. Daegu dialect is difficult to understand ha? That’s alright. You’re getting your degree, and you help pack my things even though you’re sad as hell the day I left. I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask for a better wife, and I hardly think I deserve you. Until we meet again, soon. Your husband, Min Yoongi.”

The video cuts to him winking.

Another text from him,

[Yoongi, 1.03AM] Impression is never permanent. I hope you give mother another try…

Wife is typing...

[Wife, 1.04AM] Erm. [Wife, 1.04AM] Sends a pic.

[Wife, 1.05AM] How’s this for a lasting impression?

932 notes · View notes

blazingparker · 3 years

Text

What’s Up, Danger? (Chapter 3)

Here it is! the final chapter of What’s Up, Danger? As I’ve said before, I was totally blown away by the response to this fic. Thank you to all of you who commented, left kudos, reblogged, and everything else!!

read it on ao3!

---

“JARVIS, what time is it?” Tony called out as he fiddled with repairing one of the gauntlets on one of his older suits. It had gotten damaged during the battle of Sokovia, and he’d just built a new one rather than ever repairing it. Now, with his refusal to go after Spider-Man and the lack of other missions, he’d had plenty of time to catch up on lab projects and even fix up his old suit.

“It is currently 2:37 in the morning on Friday, January 25th, sir. Might I suggest you retire and get some rest?” Tony frowned, setting down his tools. Peter still hadn’t called him, and he never stayed out patrolling this late when he had a class the next day.

Peter. The last few weeks with Peter had been some of the best of Tony’s life, hands down. While they still hadn’t defined their relationship, they were more than friends and there were definitely too many feelings involved for them to just be fuck buddies.

For once, Tony didn’t dread the early hours of the morning when JARVIS would hound him to head to bed. He’d talk on the phone with Peter, listen to how his day went and maybe tell him about his latest project before they would hang up with whispered words of affection and head to bed. On particularly good nights, he’d meet Peter in his apartment with takeout (Tony wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking he could cook, come on) and they’d cuddle up on the couch with a movie. Sometimes, he’d need to stitch Peter up or help him out of his suit to tend to his injuries, which he was always more than happy to do. Things were perfect. They were perfect.

In fact, the only reason why Tony hadn’t asked Peter to be his boyfriend yet was because he knew the young man had enough on his plate without adding the media frenzy that came with dating a billionaire. Not to mention the Avengers would find out, and that would make it even harder for Peter to keep his identity a secret.

Tony wasn’t really known for being a patient man, but for Peter? For Peter, he’d wait.

Well, not tonight. Tonight, he was done waiting. It was close to three in the morning and Peter still hadn’t called, which was highly unusual.

“JARVIS, pull up the local news.” Tony turned and leaned back against the lab table and brought his mug of coffee to his lips. Maybe Peter had gotten held up with a bigger issue, like another burning building or a larger threat that required more time to take care of. If that was the case, the local news would definitely be covering it.

What they were actually covering made him drop his coffee mug, the ceramic dish shattering when it made impact with the floor.

A blonde newscaster was speaking, but Tony tuned her out in favor of reading the tagline and watching the footage.

Spider-Man Abducted by the Avengers. There was a shaky video, likely recorded by an unassuming passerby, of Peter standing on a roof with his chest heaving. Then, out of nowhere and seemingly for no reason, he tensed. A second later, a dart could be seen sticking out of his neck. Tony’s chest filled with dread as he watched Peter pluck it out and stare at it, swaying in place. When Peter collapsed, Tony actually made a move as if he could catch the young man, and felt fury bubble up when he saw what happened next.

Steve fucking Rogers caught Peter, quickly restraining him with a pair of vibranium cuffs before slinging him over his shoulder and carrying him off.

“--people of Queens are furious. There are talks of a march on Avengers tower. They have protected us from larger threats, yes. But Spider-Man was the one looking out for the people of Queens and New York at large every day. Where were the Avengers when Lacy Collins was almost assaulted last week, when Spider-Man rescued her? Where were the Avengers--”

Tony wasn’t listening anymore. The newscaster was right, of course, Peter was better than all of them. Peter deserved nothing but the Avengers’ respect and instead he’d gotten a dart to the neck and vibranium cuffs. He stormed out of the lab, grabbing his cell phone.

“JARVIS, dial Patriotic Fucker,” he all but growled as he got into the elevator. “And take me to the suit lab on level forty. The one with the landing platform.” There was no way they’d bring Peter back to the tower, which meant Tony needed a suit. Now.

“Tony, we caught him!” Steve cried out after picking up on the first ring.

“How fucking dare you,” Tony said lowly. “The mission was to learn his identity, Rogers. Not drug him and arrest him!” By the end, he was yelling into the phone. “Where the fuck did you take him?”

“Tony-I thought this was the best course of action. He was avoiding us even more.”

“Because Clint took a fucking shot at him! If an Avenger tried to take you out, would you really be peachy-keen and excited to chat?!” Tony screamed. “You star-spangled shit, you’ve compromised everything! As if he’s ever going to work with us now, after this little stunt! Not to mention they’re talking about protests against us on the news!” Taking a deep breath, he exited the elevator and made a beeline for the nanotech suit he’d just finished up. Grabbing the little housing unit, he placed it against his chest and double-tapped it, allowing the suit to encase his body.

“Clint and I are with him at the compound. We’re upstate.” Steve’s reply came after a beat of silence, and he actually sounded remorseful. Fucking finally, Tony had a location. He blasted out of the lab and away from the tower, JARVIS automatically plugging in directions for the fastest route to the compound.

“Did Natasha know about this? What about Banner, or Thor?” Tony barked out, determined to get as much information as possible before he got there. He wanted to be able to put his full focus on Peter, not these idiots.

“No. Clint and I made the call. They’re not to blame for this, Tony.”

“Oh, and that makes things better? You kidnapped my-” Tony hesitated. Peter wasn’t technically his anything. “My Spider-Man,” he finished lamely.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have a chat about that, Tony. About the Stark Tech he’s wearing, and how your number is saved in his phone under the name ‘Snarky Bitch’. You’ve known. You knew this kid and didn’t tell the team.” Tony found his blood running cold for the second time that night.

You knew this kid.

“Steve Rogers, did you take off his mask?” He yelled, and the silence on the other end was enough of an answer. Feeling fury take over, Tony let go of any semblance of restraint he still had. That was the final straw. Peter had taken his secret identity incredibly seriously, and he deserved to reveal it to whomever he chose. Not have that choice taken from him.

“Yes, I know him. I know his name, and I’ve been helping him out,” Tony seethed. “Unlike you, you frozen fuck, I got him to trust me. He trusted me, and I helped him in return. He deserved that much. He’s sweet and kind and everything the world seems to think you are. But they were wrong. The great Captain America that the world knows would never drug and kidnap a college kid just because they didn’t do what he wanted.”

“Tony.” The voice on the other end cracked, and Tony smirked. Steve knew he was right.

“I expect you to be gone by the time I get there, which will be in about twenty minutes. You’d better stay away from him until I say otherwise, or I swear on my mother’s grave that your face will be meeting my gauntlet. Capische?”

“Understood. And-for what it’s worth, Tony, I’m sorry. I really thought this was the right call.” Tony huffed out a sigh.

“For future reference, if the plan involves drugs and kidnapping, it’s not the right call.” With that, he hung up on Steve and focused on getting to the compound as fast as he could. After a painstakingly long flight he arrived, storming through the doors and down to the detention level where he knew Peter would be. Tony exited the suit and put it on sentry mode, striding purposefully down the hall of cells, looking, searching--

Tony came to a dead stop in front of the last cell on the right and felt his heart fall right out of his body. It was Peter: restrained to a chair, in his suit but without his mask. His head lolled to the side and if Tony couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest, he might have thought the young man was dead. Each of his legs was tied down to the chair and his hands were behind his back, likely in the vibranium cuffs still.

“JARVIS, unlock,” Tony whispered weakly, and rushed in as soon as the glass door slid open. Gently brushing Peter’s curls out of his face, he dropped to his knees in front of the man. “I’m so sorry, Peter. So, so sorry,” he whispered before making his way around to the cuffs so he could get Peter’s hands free.

---

Peter woke slowly, blinking against harsh light and instinctively letting out a groan of pain when his headache made itself known. Instinctively, he tried to rub his temple and couldn’t keep from whining softly when his hands were held down.

“Sit still, Pete. Please. I’m trying, okay? I promise, I’m trying.” Tony’s voice? That didn’t make any sense, Peter had been on patrol.

Patrol.

It all came flooding back to him - the dart, his dizziness, and the vague feeling of being restrained and carried off. After that, nothing. Now, he was awake and clearly restrained and Tony was there.

Tony had sold him out? Peter didn’t want to believe it, but it was the only thing that made sense. Tony was doing something with his cuffs and he was tied down tightly, unable to move. Tony knew his routines and when he liked to head home, and could have told the Avengers when it would be best to strike. When he’d be the most exhausted.

You idiot, he thought to himself. Peter dropped his head to his chest and tried desperately to fight back tears, not wanting Tony to know he was awake. As Spider-Man, he’d been shot, stabbed, punched and kicked. But this? This hurt the worst of anything he’d ever experienced.

All of a sudden, there was a loud bang and the pressure on his hands was gone. Peter pitched forward with a squeak of surprise, not expecting to be freed. Strong hands caught him and gently eased him back into the chair.

“Peter? You back with me?” Tony was in front of him now, face etched with concern as he brushed Peter’s hair out of his eyes and moved his hands down to his wrists. The older man gently massaged them, trying to ease any soreness as Peter slowly looked up at him.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked, shocked at how raspy his voice sounded. Tony just stared at him, confused.

“Because Steve and Clint are idiots, and this never should have happened. Bambi, I’m so sorry I didn’t check in sooner, I thought you were patrolling.” Tony started to ramble, and Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“You didn’t...do this?” He asked, and winced at the horror that instantly took over Tony’s face.

“I’d never. I’d never, ever do something like this to you. You’re my Danger, my sweet-hearted vigilante who puts everyone ahead of himself and who I adore. I’m so sorry. If I’d known-” Tony was cut off by the swift press of Peter’s lips against his. Peter didn’t know why he’d doubted Tony for a second. Of course he would never sell him out - why would he help him and why would they be...whatever they were...if Tony’s whole endgame was to unmask him? He would have bailed after Peter pulled the mask off that one night all those weeks ago if that had been the case.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, hiccuping as he tried to keep the tears at bay. “I just-I woke up and felt you doing something with my hands and I thought-I thought-”

“You thought I was putting you in the cuffs instead of taking you out of them,” Tony murmured in understanding. Peter just nodded as the other man focused on releasing his legs.

“I’m sorry-” he tried to repeat but was stopped by a finger against his lips. As soon as the finger was removed, it was replaced with a set of soft lips.

“No apologies, Bambi,” Tony whispered, and Peter just nodded again. He still felt exhausted and sluggish, likely because of the drugs making their way through his system. Luckily, Tony seemed to read his mind. “How about we head up to my private rooms, get something to eat, and watch a movie? Hm? Just like we always do.”

“That sounds nice,” Peter murmured back, pecking Tony’s lips one more time. He then grasped the man’s hand, slowly standing up and yelping in shock when his knees immediately gave out and he went crashing towards the floor.

That never happened, though. He was caught in a pair of strong arms and lifted up in a princess carry as Tony prevented the cold concrete from greeting his face. Peter’s arms instinctively wrapped around Tony’s neck.

“I’m sure I can walk if I could just try again,” Peter tried to protest, and Tony leaned their foreheads together.

“Let me do it. You’ve probably still got some stuff in your system, and I’ve been worried sick ever since I saw the news. Just let me take care of you. Let me take care of my-” Tony cut himself off, hesitating.

“Boyfriend,” Peter blurted out before staring at Tony with wide eyes. You don’t know that he wants that, Parker. His friends literally just drugged and kidnapped you, he’s probably just feeling protective--

“Boyfriend,” Tony repeated. A huge, real smile was plastered on his face as he held Peter even closer. “Let me take care of my boyfriend.” Blushing, Peter responded by simply pressing his face into Tony’s neck as though it would allow him to hide. After a split second, he pressed a soft kiss to the skin there. Tony nuzzled his face into Peter’s hair for a moment before turning and walking out of the cell.

“You know, I never got to hear about your night. Before all this, I mean,” Tony remarked as he carried Peter towards the elevator.

“I guess not,” Peter mused, pulling back just enough to look up at his boyfriend. Boyfriend, he could say that now.

“So...what’s up, Danger?”

“Oh my god.”

#blazingparker writes #starker #starker fic #starker community #peter parker x tony stark

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sunsoothed · 3 years

Text

hair(care)

remember this post? yes i wrote the fic. with some angst and backstory as a treat! family bonding time and people learning to love. the ao3 summary is "Yohan first learns affection through money, then oil." which i think is really really funny.

word count: 1696

read on ao3

apologies for any errors, and enjoy!

The first time Yohan tries, it is before everything. He’s allowed to err here and there, require an entire braid to be unwound and redone. He’s allowed to experiment with the clips and the ribbons and decide when the act is complete and present his art to his niece and his family. Elijah is rightfully fawned over, cheeks bright and smiles brighter, holding onto her uncle and hiding her face in his shoulder with glee.

That was, of course, before everything.

If Yohan has touched a hair on Elijah’s head since, it is only to make a promise or only in her sleep.

The doctors will take care of you, don’t worry. Samcheon is here. I won’t let them hurt you any more than you already have been.

Midnight, in that agonising few months of hospital rooms and the claustrophobic rehabilitation centre. When Elijah is able to perceive nothing but her breath, Yohan, hands reverent; soothing his own fears through comforting his niece. Things will be okay. We’ll be fine. A few grounding breaths are never enough, not after he learns what those monsters took from his niece.

And when Elijah cries. When she first asks after her mother and father, why they aren’t by her side, why is it just samcheon everyday? When Yohan’s tears ring before hers, for the first and last time. I’m sorry, so is declared. I’ll fix this, so is promised. He holds her as close as he can permit himself to, and vows to burn down this world if she asks him to.

Elijah, once, four years since, on her tenth birthday, asks him, “Can you help me?”

Yohan will pretend like he hasn’t been starved of hearing those words. He follows her to her room, honoured of her trip halfway across the house.

“The girls at school,” Elijah fumbles about, wringing her hands together, “that… they wear their…”

He stands in her doorway, somewhat uninvited, waits for her to finish.

“They wear their hair, kind of… like this,” Elijah mimics some variation of a hairstyle best she can, two locks of her hair held in her hands, the parting off. “I was just…”

Yohan, unfortunately, understands little. “Do you need a haircut?”

Elijah’s hands fall, as does the thin hope upon her features. “It’s nothing,” she dismisses. “I only called you because ahjumma wasn’t in today. It’s fine.”

Yohan blinks. “I can help if —”

“It’s fine,” Elijah hisses. “I was mistaken.”

If there is any chance of that ever happening again, time will have to be reversed. Elijah turns twelve, and things change, and Yohan notes his laptop has been hacked.

He buys her a cake for her thirteenth birthday that finds itself smashed against a wall and a demand for no such recurrence.

Yohan will never disobey her. Not with things that she can control.

So he buys no cakes, but buys her a building and channels the affection he allows himself to feel once a month in an allowance that shocks Ms Ji despite the lifetime she’s spent in this family.

Once, there is a package of hair care products with their usual shipment of essentials, which Ms Ji makes a show of putting in Yohan’s way. When he relents, it only takes a tilt of head to the east of the house for her to get the hint. He never knows if Elijah uses them, but the list goes on to include some products out of the large batch he’d purchased, and Yohan considers buying another building.

On her sixteenth birthday, Yohan asks, “Do you want to have a birthday party?”

Elijah asks, “Who will we call?”

Yohan nods, for that is an apt answer.

When Kim Gaon comes, Elijah hates him more than usual. That, Yohan had expected. What he hadn’t was that this hatred would melt away faster than ice when met with fire.

The frist time Elijah sports a more delicate hairstyle than the usual ponytail, Yohan thinks it’s a trick of the light. But she turns her head when retrieving cereal, and her hair is still parted that way and a short braid runs from behind her ear into the clipped-back hair at the back of her head, and Yohan pauses to stare.

Instead of their noncommittal acknowledgement of each other each morning, he asks, “When did you…” and gestures to the back of his head.

Elijah shrugs, looking over at him impassively for a moment before pursuing her breakfast once again. Kim Gaon slides into view, grin perpetually etched into his face, asks, “Elijah, did it stay?”

To which Elijah smiles back, and now Yohan’s eyebrows remain shot up.

Kim Gaon continues to talk, “It’s experimental. We’ll try a different style tomorrow. Your hair’s long enough to make an intricate bun.”

Yohan ensures Elijah watches him conspicuously eye the both of them.

“Kim pansa,” he says, breaking the moment. “We need to go to work.”

The next day, and the day after that, Elijah wears her hair in different styles. Once it is a high bun with some small braids, once it is a different parting and a new set of clips. Yohan observes critically over breakfast as Elijah holds her head a certain way to ensure it doesn’t fall into her food, and thinks, how impractical.

She catches him looking, so she hoists a sour look, to which Yohan responds with an exaggerated tilt of his head, aiming to mimic her.

“Don’t make fun of her,” Kim Gaon’s imposing voice interrupts. “Elijah looks fantastic today.”

Elijah beams. Yohan is disarmed of a biting reply for he hasn’t seem her teeth take on anything but a stubborn baring of power in front of him. He spends the rest of the day replaying it.

When things so south and north again, when Elijah acknowledges, begrudgingly, that her uncle did not have it out for her father, Kim Gaon mediates harmoniously.

He spends an evening making them both chase the cat around the house.

It’s an inane idea, even Elijah hates it, but he tells them the reason Kkomi starts throwing things off their desks at four in the morning is because she’s understimulated, and that even a cat needs to exercise.

So it’s Elijah’s job to get her rilled up enough to run — in a cat’s terribly comic way — away from them, and Yohan’s to ensure she keeps running around.

He’s insane, is what Kim Gaon is. Elijah’s more than sure this borders on some ethical offense. Yohan sure seems to find some pleasure in making the cat scared for her life.

Gaon congratulates them both with a mid-evening coffee and snack break. Elijah actually, voluntarily, asks for Yohan to pass the plate of biscuits across, and thanks him — thanks him! — when he does.

Before they all retire to bed, after another shared meal, Elijah calls for him from down the hall.

“Yohan!”

He turns, maintaining what he thinks is a smile.

“Can you try and get some coconut oil?”

“What for?”

Elijah scrutinises him, gauging how he doesn’t understand something so obvious. “For my hair.”

Yohan nods, still not on the same page, but very much wanting to be. “I’ll get it,” he assures.

He doesn’t blink twice at the astronomical shipping price.

It’s a tall bottle, imported and primly packaged, that greets Elijah when she returns home from her weekly ice-cream run with Gaon.

She eyes it, suspicious, before their resident busybody stands in her doorway and says, “Oh, bujang-nim actually bought it for you.”

Elijah blinks at Gaon innocently. Yohan does listen to her sometimes.

“Material wealth,” Gaon seems to understand. “We’ll put it in your hair tomorrow, okay? Keep it in for a few hours.”

“A few hours?” Yohan voices, having just turned the corner, dressed as he usually is at home.

“What are you doing here,” Elijah mutters, shooting a scowl at Yohan as he stands in her doorway as well.

He scowls back, never one to back down from a challenge, as Gaon goes on about the benefits of oiling hair behind them.

“Don’t pull,” Elijah hisses.

“I’m not,” Yohan insists, but puts less force into his actions nonetheless.

Gaon and Ms Ji are monitoring them, mirroring each other with their arms crossed and leaning against opposite sides of the doorway.

Yohan sections Elijah’s hair into three parts after brushing through it, the fine-toothed comb surprisingly sparse of broken hair.

“Gaon has been helping me take care of it,” Elijah had explained, when he errantly asked. “What, did you think I’m some sort of wild animal?”

Yohan carefully collects some oil in his palms, completely foreign to this, eyes flickering up to Gaon for guidance. Gaon is absolutely no help.

So he trusts his instincts and starts at Elijah’s scalp, rubbing oil in, and ends with oil down his forearms and Elijah’s hair in a thick braid. She’s fast asleep.

“That means you did a good job,” Gaon whispers to him.

Yohan would smile, but such affection hardly suits his face. He pats Gaon’s face with an oily hand, leaves him spluttering, and grins to himself as he tries to wash the oil off.

It barely becomes a routine, because despite Gaon’s somewhat vast knowledge on hair care and what Elijah read online, washing oil out of your hair can be a nightmare. But Ms Ji and Gaon have observed their two sulking overlords interacting with an increasing frequency, even if it is sometimes just to disagree about an arrangement of clips or parting of hair.

Gaon had supposed, somewhat, that his bujang-nim had at least an understanding of style. In his discussions with his niece, though, when somehow colour schemes and draping becomes relevant, Gaon admits he’d underestimated Kang Yohan.

Later Elijah will decide she wants to dress for dinner as well, and Yohan will be the only one diligently obeying the formality. So much so that he will leave a guest in the company of the villainous home to attend to his niece’s requests. No one will ask about the pink bow in her hair, but it’s more than enough for Yohan to know that he tied it up.

#the devil judge #the devil judge fic #tvn the devil judge #kang yohan #kang elijah #kim gaon #is there a tag for the fam #lawful family #(?)#idk #whovie writes

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chunhua-s · 4 years

Text

WITH OUR FATES TANGLED TOGETHER ➽ ATSUMU MIYA X READER

requested by: @tsumue

➪ hi davi! so, as you know i fell deeply in love with your soulmate fics (a while ago and so did some of my friends!!) your writing is really beautiful and i couldn't stop myself from intruding your inbox🥺 if it's not too stupid or uninspiring could i mayhaps ask for a soulmate scenario angst to fluff (only if you feel up for it!) with atsumu? thank you!🤍

genre: angst to fluff

soulmate au: soulmates are bound together by a red string

warnings: angst — my ability to write this genre isn’t necessarily the best :v but i tried my best with it, and i did enjoy the experience! hopefully with time i’ll be able to write more and get better at it!

you meet your soulmate at age sixteen.

the fear that grips at your heart is mind numbing. it sinks cold fingers into your neck and bruises it with a cruel hand that cuts off all air from your lungs, and leaves you empty so that the only other thing you can feel is hot, hot anger.

the anger isn’t yours — the red chord that’s gotten all tangled up between your fingers tells you as much. instead, it belongs to him.

the him who stands before you with hard brown eyes and lips pressed into a thin line. the him who you’d always wanted to meet ever since that red chord tangled itself between your fingers at the age of seven. the him whose name you’d dreamed of without ever knowing it, had fantasized about how it would feel to let it roll from your tongue. he’s here — you’ve finally met your soulmate, but why does the red chord that connects you two together feel so heavy all of a sudden?

miya atsumu sighs, lifting a hand to run through his sweat-matted blond hair: your eyes follow the motion. it was easier to watch that red string and think about the way it wrapped around his fingers than to meet brown eyes that burned under a muted fury. “look, i—“ the voice that you always imagined would cause your heart to take flight on butterfly wings reaches your ears on a cold, flat tone that locks your body down to a barren winter land. “i know this isn’t what you expected for when you meet your soulmate.” by the time you finally pull your eyes to look at his face, they’re burning with tears and blur the image of him until he’s a blend of colours you can’t tell apart. his lips move behind a sheet of haze, like a spell cast over your vision that should protect you from breaking.

“but i don’t think i can be together with someone else right now.”

that spell can do nothing for your heart that rips apart underneath the blunt end of his blade.

when he looks at you, there’s something behind the light of anger and hatred — hatred for you, why does he hate you, you don’t understand... did you do something wrong? what you see behind flames of brown sugar and autumn leaves is a chasm: wide and glaring and so consumingly empty. it spits on the bedtime stories of warmth and unimaginable joy and fulfillment that a soulmate should bring — it chews on those fairytales and coughs them out on a plate of cold indifference, hate, contempt. and it hurts.

“o-oh,” you choke. there’s no way you can meet his eyes like this; your voice is cracking under the weight of your pain and your tears threaten to paint your skin with the colour of blood red agony. “i... I understand.” you don’t. this isn’t what your friends told you would happen. nothing prepared you for your own soulmate to reject you. “that’s fine, i—” breathing becomes hard, your very lungs reject the air that you so desperately drag between your trembling lips. when you look up at him, what hope that you feel is quickly smothered when you catch his eyes. he looks at you as if the sight of you here, on the verge of tears, disgusts him. “i can wait for you... i don’t mind.”

he scoffs: the sound of it is like the grating of metal against your ears. “sure, whatever.” and that’s how he leaves you. broken hearted and crying for the ache that cripples your body as the red chord tightens around your fingers.

now, the picture of him standing before you is so jarringly different that it causes your world to spin so violently that you feel as if your legs might collapse in on themselves. your reality turns itself on its side so that your cup spills out from between your hands and leaves your heart vulnerable to the cold water that floods through your body.

atsumu miya’s eyes are searching as he stands beneath the winter night’s sky, the brown colour in them filled up with a warmth that you know for a fact wasn’t there on that day you met him. there’s pain on his expression, regret so tangible that it tastes sour on your tongue, and when he says your name on trembling lips, you feel the last of your will crumble into dust.

“y/n...” he’s pleading. his eyes are wet with the same tears that had touched your cheeks throughout the two years he’d left you waiting. they tell the story of unmistakable suffering and agony — the familiarity of it tears your heart into pieces and leaves you gasping for air. “please.”

and oh, by the gods above, you want so desperately to welcome him into your arms, want nothing more than to hold him so that you can feel whole for the first time since meeting him. but the pain that still echoes inside your chest is loud and demanding, rumbling through your ribs like a thunderstorm that pushes words you don’t want to say out from between your lips. when they fall, they reach atsumu’s skin like the little snowflakes that fall from the winter sky. they melt into his tears and dig their way into his heart until he’s left breathless because he knows just how he hurt you.

“you made me wait for so long, atsumu.”

he can’t begin to tell you how much he regrets it.

“i’m sorry...” his apology falls from him like a whimper. it dances on his tongue so that he can taste the salt of his own tears. he discovers that it’s awfully bitter. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

the emptiness, the helpless acceptance in your voice echoes inside his mind. “i was so close to giving up, you know? i thought you’d be happier if you weren’t tied down to me...”

he knows. god, he knows. every minute of pain and hurt had trickled down to him through the red string that connects the both of you, and the knowledge that you suffered so much because of him, it tears him apart as he stands before you.

“no, please— i can’t live without you...”

he really can’t. he tried to forget about you. he threw himself out into a reckless life and ate the hearts of others who sought for his affection, hoping that they could somehow erase the wretched piece of cloth that tied him down. he submerged himself underwater hoping to breathe, and found himself drowning without you.

“you hurt me.”

“and i was selfish, i know...” he reaches out for you on a single, hesitant step that crumbles the snow beneath his shoes. when you don’t step away, he takes another, pushes himself forward until you’re standing directly in front of him, tear-stained eyes tilting upwards to stare into his. they’re burning, you notice: the fire that consumes the brown in them this time, though, is different. it’s changed.

he reaches for your hand, holds it between the both of his and cups it close to his chest, and his eyes never leave yours. they reveal to you the secrets that his lips won’t tell to you, they bare every ounce of yearning that his spirit screams out silently, and it’s as if every cell in his body is desperate to feel you against him when you can feel the heat of him through your gloves. “but let me make it up to you...” his whisper falls underneath the soft winds, it caresses your skin just as gently and, as you’re looking up at him, your soulmate, you can’t help the tears that sting behind your eyes. you realize that, just like back then, his image is blurred by the curtains of water, but now he glows like the sun itself. everything about him manages to warm your heart on a cold winter night, and god knows you’ll never forgive the pain that he’s caused you — all those years filled with doubt and insecurity and despair — but you think to yourself as you lift one of his hands to hold against your cheek that, at the very least, you want to take a chance with him.

his eyes shine like the stars when you show him a watery smile. “yes...” you whisper back to him. he thinks the sound of it is sweet, and he imagines that your voice may be what it means to dance among sunflowers.

“i want to take a chance with you, atsumu.”

haikyuu!! soulmate au taglist: @nishiya-is-baby

general taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @tsumue @bootylikepeachy

send an ask to be added!

so this is admittedly one of my shorter works and i did struggle a little with transitioning from angst to fluff :( i originally had two ideas, this one which is mostly angst, and another that’s mostly fluff, but in the end i decided to go with this one since i know runa likes angst a lot :0 bb i hope it was okay!

for atsumu’s character in this i wanted to push across that he didn’t want to be tied down with a soulmate when he had his volleyball aspirations to follow through with. although i don’t recall it being specifically stated in canon, i get the feeling that his dedication towards volleyball is nearly on the same level as kageyama’s and oikawa’s, where they wouldn’t be able to give themselves into a relationship when they had their dreams to seek after. so at the point in time when he meets the reader, he’d already decided to disregard any attachment for his soulmate, and so his attitude towards them is a result of that decision he made. however, time spent intentionally trying to separate yourself from your soulmate causes suffering and i wanted to show in the end that it was that pain and longing that finally drove him back to the reader. i feel like if i’d shown from atsumu’s perspective, i could have portrayed that pain and suffering that he’d have gone through without her, but i really wanted to show that through the reader instead. did it work well?

this is part of a series, so please send me an ask or dm if you’d like to be apart of a taglist! i’m currently taking request for haikyuu characters and soulmate au’s, so please come and leave your requests for those as well! thank you for reading! ♡

previous: hajime iwaizumi | next stop: requests are open!

#haikyuu!! soulmate au 💕✨#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu soulmate au #runa!! 🌻

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a-secret-bolton-vampire · 3 years

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Been wanting to do this one for a long while. Thinking a lot about Fire and Blood because House of the Dragon is coming up, and there are quite a lot of parallels between the Dance of the Dragons and the main ASOIAF series. More below...

The Dance of the Dragons happened, in part, because the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children was in question. Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey (how fitting, two bastard children named Joffrey) had brown hair instead of the typical silver-blonde hair of Targaryen and Velaryon children, and their father was not Laenor Velaryon, but rather Harwin Strong. Because of this, Rhaenyra's claim to the Iron Throne was contested, since her heirs would be bastards.

Not too dissimilar to the beginning of the War of the Five Kings, where Cersei, the beautiful queen of King Robert, fathered three bastard children in secret with her brother Jaime, all of them with the golden blond hair of the Lannisters. Then when Robert died, Joffrey ascended the throne, and Ned backed Stannis, who was in truth the rightful heir to the throne... we all know how that went of course. Also, while Rhaenyra's Joffrey was the youngest of the three, Cersei's Joffrey was the oldest of the three.

Rhaenyra and Cersei are very strong parallels. Rhaenyra was secretly involved in an affair with a family member (her uncle Daemon) whilst Cersei was involved in a secret affair with her own family member (brother Jaime). The difference, of course, being that Rhaenyra ended up marrying Daemon because Targs do Targ things, and Cersei just kept her affair with Jaime secret because they weren't Targs. In addition, Rhaenyra ended up losing all three of her children, becoming more and more bitter and distraught, becoming prone to paranoia.

Meanwhile, Cersei has thus far only lost Joffrey, but the valonqar prophecy states she will lose all three of her children. Like Rhaenyra, though, after the death of Joffrey, she does become more prone to paranoia and is increasingly bitter. Rhaenyra was eventually fed to Sunfyre by her half-brother Aegon. If Jaime is truly the valonqar, then Cersei might end up being killed by her brother as well. Eventually, Rhaenyra did end up becoming estranged from Daemon, and currently Cersei is estranged from Jaime.

However, a better Dance parallel with Cersei and Jaime is Rhaenyra and Criston Cole. They were lovers, a future queen with a member of the Kingsguard. They later suffered some sort of estrangement (the nature of which is a source of conflict in terms of what is real) that led to Criston eventually siding with the greens over the blacks during the Dance. Criston also was made Hand of the King, while Cersei presses for Jaime to be made Hand, but he refuses the position.

However, Rhaenyra isn't the only Cersei parallel. Alicent Hightower is another. Like Cersei, she supports her eldest son in claiming the throne against its lawful heir, and is the dowager queen of the former king... And she is the daughter of the Hand of the King, who is a member of one of the richest, most powerful families in the kingdoms. However, Rh

But the parallels run even deeper than that. It shocked me to see how far these go. The story of Aegon III and Viserys II as children is not too dissimilar to both the story of Daenerys and Viserys after Robert's Rebellion and some of the Stark children. Like Dany and Viserys, Viserys II ended up spending a lot of time in the Free Cities, specifically Lys, although he was captured in battle and returned as a hostage, whereas Dany and Viserys spent time in Illyrio's mansion as guests. Arya also went to Braavos, a Free City, but that's about where the similarities end so that isn't very intentional, I think.

Nonetheless, both Aegon and Viserys spent the majority of the war separated from each other and only reunited after it ended. Likewise, the Stark children were separated from each other for the majority of the war as well, and seem poised to reunite after the initial War of the Five Kings is over. And speaking of Starks, Aegon III does have a slight parallel with Bran.

As confirmed by George, Bran will be the King of Westeros by the end of the books, and there is a moniker given to him in the show that actually does appear in the books, of Bran the Broken. Meanwhile, at the end of the Dance, Aegon is now the King, and he is known as the Broken King, because of his extreme PTSD and depression from his traumatic experiences during the war.

Doesn't even end there. Now we get into some of, in my opinion, the biggest parallels with the Dance and ASOIAF proper. We all know about R+L=J, and the Dance has not one, but two big nods to this. First is the story told by Mushroom of when Jacaerys visited Winterfell. Supposedly, he fell in love with Cregan's bastard half-sister Sara Snow, and the two secretly wed before the Winterfell heart tree. Regardless of the validity of the story, Cregan and Jace did end up agreeing to what was called the Pact of Ice and Fire, wherein Jace's firstborn daughter would marry Cregan's son Rickon... son of a Targaryen king marrying the daughter of Lord Stark? Hmmm....

However, the other one is a lot more significant, to me anyways, and that would be the relationship between Crown Prince Aemond One-Eye and Alys Rivers. During the Dance, when Aemond took over Harrenhal, he took Alys Rivers as his paramour. The mysterious Alys was said to be a witch who was a bastard of House Strong, a House that has strong ties to the First Men. So, Valyrian crown prince and a First Man woman in love... but don't worry, it gets extremely apparent afterwards.

Aemond impregnates Alys and leaves her in a tower to go fight Daemon, during which Aemond is killed, leaving Alys all alone. Rhaegar impregnates Lyanna and leaves her in a tower to go fight Robert, during which Rhaegar is killed and leaves Alys all alone... then, years later, during winter, the Hand of the King Tyland Lannister tries to get together a force to retake Harrenhal, as it is held by brigands and thieves and broken men, only to find Alys there... with a young child she calls her and Aemond's trueborn son, and the rightful King of Westeros.

If that isn't enough for you, there is a very distinct similarity in the armour of Rhaegar and Aemond. Rhaegar's armour is mentioned to have been;

Seventeen and new to knighthood, Rhaegar Targaryen had worn black plate over golden ringmail when he cantered onto the lists.

And:

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate.

Compare this to Aemond's own armour.

Vhagar had come at last, and on her back rode the one-eyed Prince Aemond Targaryen, clad in nightblack armor chased with gold.

It seems clear to me that George is trying to tell us something. I think Aemond and Alys are a sort of dark mirror to Rhaegar and Lyanna. Rhaegar was considered a very noble, chivalrous prince who was well loved by the smallfolk, and Lyanna had a strong sense of Stark justice (as seen in the Knight of the Laughing Tree story). Meanwhile, Aemond was a narcissistic, psychopathic mass murderer who seems almost Ramsay-esque in his demeanour. And Alys seems more power hungry and eventually took over Harrenhal as its witch queen. But the fact they have what Alys claims to be their trueborn child and true king of Westeros does strongly suggest Rhaegar and Lyanna did eventually marry and Jon is their trueborn son, not a bastard.

I hoped I would be done by now, but there is still even more parallels. Cregan Stark and Eddard Stark are parallels and foils. Ned becomes Hand of the King and travels south to uncover who poisoned the previous Hand of the King, before the War of the Five Kings starts. Meanwhile, Cregan travels south and arrives at King's Landing after the Dance was over, then becomes Hand of the King to uncover who poisoned the previous king (Aegon II). However, while Ned was cautious and not really a big player of the game of thrones, Cregan was ambitious and knew what he was doing, even if his actions weren't always the best (attacking Storm's End, Oldtown, and Casterly Rock after the war was essentially over? Not a good idea, Stark).

The Regency of Aegon III in and of itself is a metacommentary to the writing process of ASOIAF. Originally, after GRRM finished ASOS, he decided to do a 5-year gap between that and what was to be ADWD. However, that ended up not working out, so he scrapped it all together. During that time, Tommen would've remained king, and his reign would be under a regency. So thus, Aegon III having a 5-year regency (from 131 to 136 AC) during that time alludes to that.

And then you get to Unwin Peake, my least favourite character in Fire and Blood. He appears to be a combination of Mace Tyrell and Randyll Tarly. Personality wise, he is very much like Randyll. He is a very outspoken misogynist, a very proud man, and a noted warrior wielding a Valyrian steel blade (that he likely stole from Tumbleton since Orphan-Maker was from House Roxton originally). He also changed out Aegon III's master-at-arms to be Gareth Long, who was a very harsh taskmaster, who routinely engaged in abusive tactics with the boys he trained when they didn't meet his expectations, including days without sleep, doused in tubs of ice water, being beat, and having their heads shaved, which is very reminiscent of Randyll's abuse of Sam as a child.

Unwin and Randyll also dealt with lawful punishment in very harsh ways, as seen by Randyll's treatment of those who break the law at Maidenpool, and Unwin's clearing the Red Keep cells during the Feast of Our Father Above. However, Unwin has a lot of similarities with Mace Tyrell as well. Mace is on the small council, and has routinely tried to engage in nepotism by implanting allies and family members of his into positions at the council and at King's Landing, including marrying Margaery to the king, becoming Hand of the King, having Paxter Redwyne be the lord admiral and Randyll Tarly the lord justiciar, try to bring his uncle Garth to become the new master of coin, and Garth's bastard sons to join the gold cloaks, not to mention the Conclave nearly sending his uncle Gormon to become the new Grand Maester (something Mace will surely approve of), Mace having his son Loras join the Kingsguard, and even try to betroth his heir Willas to Myrcella.

Meanwhile, Unwin engaged in much more rampant and unchecked nepotism. He was Hand of the King and Lord Regent, had Ser Gareth as master-at-arms at the Red Keep, since he was master-at-arms at Starpike, while his widowed aunt Clarice Osgrey was put in charge of Queen Jaehaera's household, Lord George Graceford (a member of the Caltrops that Peake himself was involved in) was appointed as the Lord Confessor, and Ser Victor Risley, the other surviving member of the Caltrops, was appointed to the position of the King's Justice.

He even dismissed Septon Eustace and replaced him with Septon Bernard, another relative of his. He also had his nephew Amaury and his bastard half-brother Ser Mervyn Flowers put onto the Kingsguard, while his uncle Gedmund was made the master of ships. Not to mention his attempted marriage between his daughter Myrielle and Aegon III. So basically the Peakes are the Tyrells of their day, trying to take control of the Seven Kingdoms and the Iron Throne.

And that is all that I can remember! I'm sure there is a lot more, but it's striking to see just how many parallels there are between the Dance and ASOIAF itself.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #dance of the dragons #fire and blood #war of the five kings #asoiaf parallels

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fific7 · 3 years

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Dangerous and Divine - Part 13

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

His dark chocolate eyes appeared above yours, a soft look in them. He kissed you long and slow, and then you heard him whisper, “But she’ll never catch me, sweetheart. You already got me.”

You gave a low laugh, “You are such a big sap, Russo!”

He laughed back, eyes crinkling up at the corners, “Ssssh! Don’t keep sayin’ that, angel! You’re ruinin’ my rep,” before kissing you again.

He pulled back, eyes gazing into yours, “Wanna pick up where we left off? Before we got rudely interrupted?” You smiled, “Might do.” He unwrapped his towel with a flourish and threw it onto the floor. Your eyes slowly roamed over his masterpiece of a body, and excitement sparked in your veins.

“Don’t mind when you look,” smirked Billy, but then an angry scowl flitted across his face. He looked away from you, “You know when she was stood in front of me?” he looked back as you nodded, “She was looking at me like I was a prime fillet. Covered my equipment cos she was starin’ right at it.”

He leant back as you sat up, saying angrily, “Yeah, I saw you! - that was why?!!! I thought you were reverting to ‘Marine’. Or something.” You huffed out a big breath, “That!... that....!” you were momentarily lost for words. Billy smiled at you, and laid his hand on your cheek, “Yeah, that was why. Look, forget I mentioned it, I just got pissed off again and shouldn’t’ve said anythin’. C’mon, angel - c’mere.”

You let yourself get folded into Billy’s arms, and settled yourself back down on the pillows. Feeling his lips on your neck, you put your head back slightly to give him better access. Those sensuous lips travelled down onto your collarbone, and your eyes closed in pleasure as he nipped at your skin before licking it slowly. His mouth made its way slowly but surely to your breasts, paying close attention to your nipples as it went, circling them with that tongue of his and then sucking until you gasped out little breaths in quick succession.

You were already as wet as the ocean and he’d hardly touched you. Long fingers trailed over your pussy before two pushed inside you, and a very long moan escaped your lips. Billy’s mouth was at your ear, whispering, “D’you like that, angel? How about this?” A third finger joined the other two and you felt the stretch immediately, giving a little squeal, then his thumb was rubbing your clit so firmly you just couldn’t be quiet.... at all.

Then Billy was slinking his way down your body, tongue trailing over you, the feeling of his scratchy beard against your inner thighs announcing the arrival of his head between your legs. Oh my, your brain screeched, this is gonna be very... ! His tongue joined in with all the other action below decks, and your brain fizzled up like a sparkler somebody’d just lit before it could finish the thought.

You grabbed two large handfuls of Billy’s hair and pulled on it for all you were worth, hearing a muffled chuckle from below. “Angel,” you heard next, his voice husky and breathless, “....watch the hair, huh?!” But needless to say, you ignored him. His tongue returned to the fray, and before you could even tug on his hair again your orgasm hit. You felt like you were about to pass out, seeing stars, then could hear a voice chanting his name over and over like a mantra. Oh okay, that was you. You tried to shut your mouth up but it just kept going.

Finally, your head sank right back into the pillows and a long, slow exhalation of breath left your lungs. Billy sat up after flicking his tongue over your pussy and thighs, carefully gathering up all of your juices before smirking at you as you stared back at him, still dazed. He was just getting his breath back, “Did your boyfriend eat you out till you were breathless, sweetheart? Hmmm? Is he a good boyfriend?” You nodded, still not really able to collate your thoughts into words. “Can’t speak, huh? I think your boyfriend needs a really big reward for that. But first he’s gonna give you somethin’ else to think ‘bout.”

His hard length was between your thighs in a heartbeat and he’d assertively guided himself inside you before you could take another breath. Your feet drew up until they were flat on the bed, knees raising themselves of their own accord. The intense feelings of pleasure rolled over you like breakers on the beach. Billy took hold of your ankles, balancing them on his shoulders with his hands going to your hips, pulling you even closer to him, kissing you passionately. One hand came up and laid itself on your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. Your mouths parted and his forehead gently touched yours, then he began moving on you, setting a furious pace with his thrusting.

You gripped his biceps to start with, before heading back to your favourite place - his hair. Running your fingers through it, that made you happy for a little while until you grabbed some with each hand. Over the sighs and moans both of you were making, you heard a low laugh from Billy, “Gettin’ ready to pull my hair, angel?” You gasped as he thrust deeply while he spoke, then ground out “Yeah I am and you can just shut up, Russo,” between your teeth. “Don’t...” he said, breaking off to softly grunt as he thrust at the same time, “...leave me with bald patches, goddess,” he finished.

Which was just as well, because you thought he’d been about to tell you not to pull his hair! That would’ve been a very dangerous thing for Billy to do, ex-Marine or not. So you immediately began to tug on said hair, which brought great contentment to your soul, and you heard Billy’s soft laugh as you did so.

“M’gonna...come, angel,” you heard next, wrapped up in a breathy moan. His hand went to your clit, all the while hitting your sweet spot with each stroke. You could feel your climax building and building, and gave his hair one last loving pull as the orgasm slammed you. Billy fastened his teeth onto your neck where it met your shoulder and bit down, not too hard but still enough to make you yelp, and you felt him tense against you as he came. He collapsed onto you, huffing as he caught his breath before lowering your trembling legs to the bed. He rested his forehead on yours, kissing your nose.

“Holy hell,” he whispered, “that was mind-blowin’, angel.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The two of you slept a little late the next morning, having a leisurely shower together before ordering a big breakfast to the room, your appetites being very healthy indeed after your exercise regime the previous night. The plates and coffee cups were soon clean as whistles.

You were lying on the bed, busy having a giggling fit as Billy peered into the big mirror while angling his head and parting his hair this way and that.

“I swear, angel, if I find even the tiniest bald patch....” but his eyes, meeting yours in the mirror, were twinkling with suppressed laughter. “Oh, Russo...” you gasped, breathless from laughing, “...you really are a big dork!” “Hey... this head of hair’s my crownin’ glory! If any’s missin’, I’ll need to get weaves! An’ you can pay for them!”

You had just launched into more giggles, when there was a loud knock at the door, followed by a gruff “S’Frank, open up Bill.” Scrambling to get into your hotel robe - which you’d earlier dropped on the floor so that Billy could smooth the hotel’s complimentary high-end body lotion over every inch of you - he started heading for the door but was looking over at you with a raised eyebrow. You hastily tied the belt round your waist and nodded at him. Luckily Billy had already been in his robe.

“Bill!” came Frank’s voice again, “...get your lazy ass out of bed and open the door!” “Yeah, yeah, Frankie,” Billy yelled back as he reached the door.

But then you noticed that Billy was holding a big black gun behind his back. Oh. Right. The seriousness of the situation last night came back to you, and a little splice of fear ran through you. But soon a big bear of a man was striding into the room, and him and Billy were exchanging manly shoulder grips. Yeah, you would guess they wouldn’t exactly be ‘huggy’ types. Then you saw Karen following in his wake with a big smile on her face, and you jumped up and rushed over to hug her.

Billy introduced you to Frank, and you returned the favour for him and Karen. More coffees were ordered, along with some toast (you were still peckish, okay?) and you all lounged around and chatted while you waited. The guys still couldn’t tell you two very much about the ‘op’, and Karen soon decided to start in on Billy.

“So, Billy,” she began, and he politely turned his head towards her, “....everything still fully intact downstairs?” nodding towards his crotch. Frank snorted, while Billy’s mouth opened and closed, then he looked beseechingly over at you, eyes wide, while you tried not to burst out laughing. Billy had actually gone quite pink, and you found this hilarious. Karen was a past master at this of course, ace reporter that she was. And you hadn’t seen or updated her since the Lunch Incident, so you relented and replied, “Yes, he still has all his equipment, Karen. Luckily for him, Billy was able to explain the situation to my satisfaction, otherwise he might’ve indeed been missing a couple of appendages at this moment.”

Frank snorted again, and Billy shot him an annoyed look before saying, “It was a misunderstandin’, Karen, an’ I fully explained it all.” You added, “He’d been stringing her along so these two were kept in the loop about the case. But then she came to the Chelsea café twice the next day, the second time to interrogate me about me and Billy’s relationship...” Frank butted in, smirking, “Never thought I’d hear the words ‘Billy’ and ‘relationship’ in the same sentence, lemme tell ya!” “Frankie!” yelled Billy, “look, will you all just stop givin’ me a hard time here!”

You and Karen grinned at each other, before you carried on, “So... during this little chat she was having with me, she told me her and Billy were dating.” Karen said, “No way!” “Yeah, she did. Obviously she was there just to find out what was going on between me and Billy! I went home afterwards, and Billy was still at his office. She headed straight over there and basically jumped him! He shoved her away and she fell over on her butt.” You all shared a grin at that. “Billy came over to mine and told me all about it.”

“Yeah,” put in Billy, “and then we both came over here the day of the op, and uhh... we were a little busy... I’m sure you know what I mean, when she came bustin’ in on us using a master key, then just stood watchin’ us for fuck knows how long. So I yelled at her to fuck off and she went.” His face was pink-tinged again, and he continued, “Then she turned up again last night, but knocked this time which was somethin’ I s’pose. Looked me over like a piece of meat cos I just had a towel wrapped round me.” He shook his head, “She’s unreal. Got a few screws loose,” twirling a finger next to his temple.

Karen smiled at him, “Nah, Billy - not crazy as such, but a woman scorned, y’know? Just think about it for a second. You must’ve really got her all stirred up, and then BAM!”, she yelled, and Billy jumped a little, “...you shut her down so fast her head must’ve been spinning.” He looked suitably chastised, and glanced guiltily over at you. “Now my girl here,” she carried on, pointing at you, “...when she saw you in that restaurant with another woman, she was gonna shut you down faster’n a jet engine on landing. Totally different approach with her. No stalking, no contact, no jumping you, she would’ve just cut your balls off and walked away.”

Billy squirmed in his armchair, looking wide-eyed at you. Even Frank looked slightly uncomfortable. “You know, you’re really lucky she gave you a second chance, Billy.” He gulped a little, “I know... I do know that, Karen. I was so dumb to string Madani along like that, but she made it obvious she was interested, so y’know, I...” he spread out his arms, “...thought I’d use it to my advantage and make sure we were kept in the loop.” He again looked over at you, regretfully, “Yeah, not my finest hour.”

But Karen still wasn’t finished, you could tell by the look on her face - “Relentless Terrier with Bone.”

“Would you have gone so far as to sleep with her?” she shot at him. Billy slouched back in his seat and looked down at his fingers, which were fidgeting in his lap. You knew that Karen was just trying to - she thought - get you some honest answers, but you decided it was time to bale him out. Billy looked like he was under attack from all angles, he wasn’t used to her interrogatory style. If it had been back in his Marine days, about a mission or troop movements or suchlike, it would’ve been a cakewalk for him, no doubt. But this was about relationships and feelings - not familiar territory for Billy in the slightest.

“We discussed that, K,” you replied to her, “..and yeah, he would have. For sure.”

“Before I met her,” Billy quickly added with an apologetic smile at you, before saying, “And before I met her, yeah - I’ll admit I would’ve sat back and let her jump my bones when she came visitin’ me at Anvil.”

You caught sight of Frank’s amazed face. He was looking at Billy as if he’d just fallen clear out of the sky into that armchair. His eyes suddenly met yours and you grinned at him, and he shook his head, laughing over at you, “Wow. Russo’s whipped!” “Shut it, Frankie,” grumbled Billy, but he had a small shit-eating grin on his face.

There was a knock at the door as the coffee and toast arrived, and Billy leapt up to answer it, looking relieved to be off the ‘witness stand.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

A couple of hours later, checkout completed, the four of you split up to head off in your various different directions.

You to Chelsea, Karen to a meeting uptown with a ‘source’ as she termed it, and the two guys to Homeland’s HQ for their final meeting with The Scorned Woman - as she would now forever be known to you and Karen - and which they couldn’t wait to get over and done with.

Billy - very aware of Frank and Karen watching as well as smirking close by - almost shyly pulled you to him and kissed you softly. However he couldn’t help himself and fairly soon his kiss became much more heated, one big hand snaking round the back of your neck as he nuzzled his face closer to yours. The two of you pulled apart eventually to a round of wolf whistles and catcalls from your so-called ‘friends’.

Billy was chuckling and running a hand distractedly through his hair as he let go of you. You flipped the two of them an affectionate finger along with a smile just as you spotted your Uber drawing to a halt outside the hotel entrance, and made a hasty exit into it, stage left.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Madani looked across her desk, firstly at Castle, then after a moment let her gaze slide over to Russo, lingering on him. He looks just divine today, she thought. She took in his shiny immaculate hair, sullen face, dark seductive eyes, sensual mouth and angular jaw covered with his trademark light beard. It looked to her like he’d shaved it down just a little bit - not that it had ever been thick - but she could definitely see more of his jawline. She watched as his long fingers slotted and unslotted themselves, his hands resting on the desktop. She then observed that he was dressed in a leather jacket, grey t-shirt, pair of black jeans and combat boots. Everything about the tall marine just screamed ‘sex’, she mused.

A tiny shiver went through her as she imagined those fingers running over her body, and despite the case being more or less closed, she knew she wouldn’t be giving up on this apparently lost cause anytime soon. She’d find some excuse about missing evidence or statements to call him back in, or something along those lines. He was too good a catch to let him escape, and she wasn’t prepared to allow that to happen. And Dinah Madani, as anyone who knew or worked with her soon found out, was one very determined lady.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

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candy-and-writing · 4 years

Text

My Resolutions

Synopsis: You and Steve have a strained relationship. He takes it upon himself to fix that

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, slight Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Dark! Steve Rogers, NON-CON, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), slight breeding kink if you squint

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Tony Stark's New Year's party was extravagant. Men in expensive suits and black ties, women wearing elegant party gowns and jewelry with more diamonds than a Tiffany's store. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, the lights soft and bright, matching the ambiance of the orchestra. Long, white-clothed tables lined the walls, covered in overpriced shrimp and finger foods, a large chocolate fountain that stood entirely too high next to various fruits and other snacks. Servers walked around the ballroom carrying trays of champagne and little plates of desserts, though most guests already held a cocktail or glass from the bar.

You stood next to Natasha as she conversed with Clint and Wanda, something about Budapest? You were too busy gawking at the lavish scene around you. The Avengers cleaned up nice, the boys wearing expensive tuxes and black bow ties while Natasha, you, and Wanda had gone dress shopping. Nat looked stunning in her long black dress, thin straps that crossed along her back and her short red hair pinned to the side. Wanda wore a dark red dress that had a high neckline and sleeves that passed her elbows, styling her hair in a messily beautiful high ponytail and dark makeup.

You wore a silky sapphire blue gown, the neckline low and cut to show much more cleavage than you were comfortable with, the thin straps were the only thing to cover your back. The skirt of your gown was loose and flowy around your legs, stopping at your toes. Your hair was curled down around your shoulders, dangling earrings tickling your jawline. Your makeup was simple, eyeliner and some fake eyelashes Natasha helped you out with and some red lipstick. To your surprise, it contrasted beautifully with your dress.

You left Natasha to navigate your way through the crowd, wanting to reach the bar. Once there, you ordered a cocktail and sat down, sighing. You picked at your painted fingernails, twisting a ring around your finger.

"Hey, doll."

You looked up to find Bucky leaning against the bar, smiling at you. You smiled back. The bartender handed you your drink, you thanked him before taking a hefty sip.

"Hey."

"Having fun?"

You shrugged, stirring your straw in your drink. "Parties make me anxious, there's always too much that could happen when nothing ever does. All these strangers—does Tony even know all these people?"

Bucky sat beside you, sighing like your dad does when he goes to sit down and watch the football game. "Sounds fair, given what we do for a living. You have a right to be paranoid."

"I'm not paranoid," you glared. "I'm being cautious."

Bucky chuckled, ordering a double whiskey before looking back at you. "You wanna join Steve and I? Get your mind off things?"

You sighed, playing with your straw for a moment before nodding. "Yeah."

He guided you to the middle of the room, dodging past people until he found Steve and Sam. Sam greeted you with a nod and a smile, looking you up and down quickly before he met your eyes. Steve gave you a tense nod, quickly continuing his conversation with Sam. You scoffed before taking a drink, feeling stupid for thinking Steve would greet you at all. He's had such a stick up his ass the last few months, barely acknowledging you and only talking to you when he had to, but he was more than happy to ignore you. You've caught him glaring at you from the other side of the room multiple times, like your presence itself just annoyed him. You had no idea what you did to piss the supersoldier off, but you've learned to just stay out of his way.

Although you would admit, with his long hair, short beard, and his tight tux, he looked ruggedly handsome. He was a stark contrast to the man he once was when you first joined. He would at least talk to you then.

You shook your head, taking a sip of your cocktail. You had no idea why it bothered you so much—he didn't like you and you didn't like him, you just couldn't understand why. He was nice, kind to everyone else, to complete strangers, so why did he look at you like you were a bug he squashed on his shoe? And it wasn't like you actually hated him, despite your nonexisting conversations and the spiteful glares, you were quite fond of the super-soldier.

One cocktail turned into two, then three, then two more glasses of champagne when you spotted a server walking near you. Bucky was too busy conversing with Steve and Sam about his days back in the 107th to notice your tipsy daze, laughing as Sam made a snarky remark about his old age.

It was well past midnight now, the guests from the party had slowly disappeared, leaving the Avengers to finish off the eggnog and bacon-wrapped shrimp. You sat on the edge of the couch next to Wanda, nursing your third—was it your third? Or was it your fourth? No, no, definitely your third—cocktail Natasha had made you. Across from you sat Steve and Bucky; Bucky had taken his jacket off while Steve left his on, instead unknotting his bow tie. At first glance, you'd expect Bucky to be the one giving you the cold shoulder, not America's Golden Boy. But Bucky was probably your closest friend. You grumbled, taking another drink.

"Alright, let's go around the room!" Tony clapped and rubbed his hands together before pointing at Bruce. "Banner! New Year's Resolution, go!"

Bruce mumbled for a moment before sighing, saying something about finishing his big project with Dr. Cho. Clint went next, saying he wanted to be there when his daughter graduated middle school. Natasha wanted to do some volunteer work, maybe get a cat, something she could take care of.

"Cap, you're up!"

Steve sighed, holding his beer down at his lap. "Uh—"

"To get laid," Sam interjected, snickering. Bucky laughed as Steve's eyes widened.

"Seriously?" you nearly choked on your drink. "I can't believe that's one of your new year's resolutions."

Steve cleared his throat. "It's not." He gave you a dangerous glare, which you failed to see on account of you finishing off your cocktail. "I was going to say—before I was interrupted—I want to make the world a better place, this time next year I want it to be better."

You shrugged, reaching for a bottle of champagne. "Eh, whatever you say, Captain."

"What about you?" he asked, all but snarling. "What's your resolution?"

You poured yourself a glass from the bottle of some fancy Krug Blanc de Blanc champagne, it was crisp and rich and the bubbles tickled down your throat. "Don't got one," you said plainly. "I think they're dumb."

Tony 'boo'd. You stuck your tongue out at him.

"Aw, come on," Clint groaned. "Think of one thing you want to do this year."

You sighed. "Fine. I. . . I guess I don't want to die?"

"There ya go! That's the spirit!"

You chuckled, shaking your head as you sip your drink. Wanda went next—said she wanted to do something to help Sokovia since they're still rebuilding the city. Bucky said he just wanted to live his life with his friends. Corny bastard.

An hour passed, maybe more, before you started to get cold. The cool air danced along your bare back and down your spine. F.R.I.D.A.Y had started playing Christmas music and Natasha dragged you up. You protested, begging her to let you go. She had your hands in hers, swaying you back and forth until you were begrudgingly moving on your own until your hips were moving on your own accord.

Then you fell. Tripped over your dress.

Bucky stood up, rushing over to you as Natasha tried to give you her hand but you waved them off. "I'm fine, jeez, back off."

"Maybe you should lay off the drinks," Nat said.

"Yeah, how many have you had?" Bucky frowned at you.

"What are you, my mom?" you growled, reluctantly taking Bucky's hand as he pulled you up a little too fast. You clutched onto him, dizzy as you struggled to steady yourself. Suddenly, there was another pair of hands on you, rough as they held you tightly.

"I'll take care of her," Steve's voice said.

"Steve—" Bucky was interrupted.

"I said I got her." He pulled you out of Bucky's grasp, dragging you out of the room.

"Go easy on her, Cap," you heard Tony say softly, "you know this time of year is hard for her."

That made both you and Steve scowl. It is not, you thought as Steve pulled you along, your small feet struggling to keep up with his fast steps. Your head spun, dizzy as Steve stopped at a door. He shoved you in, wobbling and stumbling over your heels. You turned to him, about to tell him to watch it when you stopped. His expression was stone cold, almost feral. He stalked up to you as you shuffled back, circling until you bumped up against a table. Surprised, you looked behind you, running your hand along the dark mahogany. That wasn't your table. Looking around your surroundings, you saw that you weren't in your room at all.

"Steve," you say, your voice shaky. "Where are we?"

His snarl turned into a cold grin and he chuckled at your stupidity. "Are you that drunk or are you just that stupid?" he belittled. "Take a good guess."

You knew where you were, and his snarky remark had you biting your tongue you hold in your dry sarcasm. You rolled your eyes and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back until you hit your head, laying over the table.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," he growled, hand pressing down on your chest.

"Ow! What the fuck, Steve!"

"You wanna know what my new year's resolution really is?" Steve had pushed himself up against you, noses close to touching. You could smell the beer he had on his breath.

"Steve, seriously, this isn't funny—"

"It's you."

He forced himself in between your thighs, your dress riding up to your knees as you kicked your feet out, flailing as Steve pushed against you, pinning your wrists on either side of your head.

"Steve, stop," you begged. "Please, you're scaring me."

"Good," he huffed. "You should be, maybe it'll sober you up."

"Steve—"

"Shut up!" You flinched, turning your head away from his. "God, I am so sick of you and your little games. Playing innocent when you're walking around in your skin-tight uniform, flirting with Bucky, ignoring me. You brought this on yourself, sweetheart."

You're the one ignoring me, you jackass.

"Steve, I—" you took a deep breath, trying to play your cards right. "I never meant to make you think—"

"I don't care," Steve sneered. He let go of your wrists, his hands rubbing up along your thighs. You pushed against his chest, trying to get him off you, but he brought his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, looking at you like you were an annoying fly. You cried out, head snapping to the side as Steve pinched your inner thigh. He pushed your dress up over your hips, your black lacy thong on full display.

"Jesus," Steve breathed. "You wore this out in public? You're lucky some other man didn't try to fuck you earlier."

"Steve!" you cried, frightened. Your heart was pounding in your ears so fast you thought you were going to pass out. One of his hands went to your throat, squeezing just enough to make it hard to breathe.

"I said, 'shut up.' God, you really need a lesson in obedience."

With that, he roughly grabbed the hem of your underwear and pulled, tearing the garment in two so hard it left burn marks on your waist. You let out a strained cry, squeezing your eyes shut as tears slipped past your lashes. Your head spun in a drunken daze as Steve licked his fingers before he rubbed against your clit, causing you to jolt. You let out a strained, garbled 'no'. Steve only gripped your throat tighter.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Steve cooed, his voice suddenly softer, "I can make it feel good for you. Just relax."

You clawed at the hand wrapped around your throat, trying to tear him away, mouthing voiceless pleas.

Stop.

Please.

Steve.

"Just relax, sweetheart, it'll feel good. I promise." He continued to rub circles over your clit, softly and then harder at random intervals. You mewled, squirming in his grasp, your back arching as he dipped his finger into your channel, spreading your juices around. His now slick finger stroking your sensitive bud as you let out a strangled moan. "That's it, doll, just let yourself feel it."

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a conquering and controlling kiss, tongue delving into your mouth. You were helpless as his lips moved to your jaw, inserting a second finger into you. You gasped as Steve started pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, finger fucking you until you were a whimpering mess.

"It feel good, doll?" Steve asked, lips dangerously close to yours. The pads of his fingers brushed against a certain spot inside you and you cried out, hips jolting. "You like that?"

You felt the stretch as Steve forced a third finger into you, your legs numb and heavy. Your head spun, and you thought for sure you were going to puke as he sped up, the coil in your lower belly tightening as his lips latch onto your clit. You gasped, a scream getting stuck in your lungs as he sucked on your clit in the most beautiful way.

"St—stop. . . Steve, St—Steve, please—"

A few more licks was all it took before the coil in your stomach snapped. You let out a coarse scream, the breath getting sucked out of your lungs. Your thighs shook as your back arched painfully, your pussy convulsing against Steve's fingers until you collapsed, lax on the table under Steve.

"Jesus, sweetheart." Steve pulled his fingers from your channel, causing you to whimper. "That was beautiful. You're so fucking beautiful."

His words barely reached your ears, sounding muddled and far away like you were under water. There was a loud pounding, your heartbeat ringing in your ears, strumming through your body. You didn't realize Steve had unzipped his dress pants, shuffling them down past his knees, stroking himself slowly. He let out a soft sigh, lining himself up between your legs.

Your eyes widened. "Wait—Steve, don't—!" Steve used his hand to cover your mouth, silencing you.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Steve cooed, "just relax. I'll make it feel good."

He pushed into you slowly, his thick cock stretching your walls. You screamed into his hand, legs clenching in an attempt to stop him.

"I said 'relax', doll. This is happening, just accept it, it'll feel so much better."

You closed your eyes, willing your muscles to unwind as Steve thrust into you, groaning.

"Fuck, you're tight," he growled. "I know you're not a virgin, you fucked Bucky just last week."

Your eyes flew open wide at the candor remark. You mumbled something incoherent to him against his hand, which he chuckled at.

"Oh, please, you honestly think I'm that clueless?" Steve scoffed. "The missions you two are always taking together, the incessant flirting, the sneaking around like you're a bunch of teenagers. No, I knew, and—frankly—I'm a little offended. I had to find out from Natasha?" He punctuated her name with a sharp thrust of his hips. "You must have one hell of a spell on him that he didn't come running to me after it happened. . . . How did it happen? I'm curious."

He moved his hand away from your mouth, when you didn't answer immediately he snapped his hips up into you.

"Steve—"

"Tell me," he said, pulling out slowly, just to the tip, then pushing back in inch by inch.

"Okay!" you screeched, "Okay! We—we were in Germany, a couple months back, for the human trafficking intel S.H.I.E.L.D had. The mission was a bust, they knew we were coming, they killed all the girls. One of them—ngh—she wasn't even old enough to start her period yet. Bucky took it really hard—"

"I don't care," Steve growled, bucking his hips. "Get to it.”

"He drank himself to sleep that night," you whimpered. "I had to wake him up a few hours later because he was screaming. When—when he calmed down, I tried to talk to him, but he kissed me. I—I told him we shouldn't—"

"Because you didn't want to or because he was upset—oh, fuck."

"I—" you preened. "I didn't want to do anything he would regret, when he told me there wouldn't be anything to regret, I just went with it."

"You let him fuck you," Steve corrected.

"Yeah," you forced out, even though that wasn't the truth. It had been more than that. It wasn't just a quick fuck, it was something both of you needed to get past that. You needed to forget and Bucky needed reassurance. You had let him take control that night, something he needed, while you laid back and let him be the one in control over you. You trusted him completely, and that man had pulled more orgasms from you than anyone ever could.

"Do you know why that is?" Steve whispered, his voice low. His hips kept their slow pace, his dick ever so slowly sliding in and out of your cunt. When you shook your head, he gave you a devilish smile. "It's because you're a slut. And he thought you were easy."

Steve pushed your legs up to your chest, effectively bending you in half as he fucked into you faster, his balls slapping against your skin as you screamed, hands clawing at the table below you. His cock was driving into you deeply, hitting a spot inside you that had you seeing stars. He was longer than Bucky, albeit Bucky was thicker. You bit back a moan, refusing to give Steve that kind of satisfaction.

Steve clicked his tongue. "Come on, doll, don't be like that." His hand dipped down to where your body's were conjoined, his fingers rubbing softly against your clit.

"Fuck!" you gasped, your back arching. You let out a string of moans, whining as his hand stayed stuck to your clit.

"I need you to come for me, baby, one more time. Can you do that?" His hot breath grazed against your ear. "Fuck—come on my cock, sweetheart."

You bucked your hips wildly, trying to shake him off you, the sensation all too familiar yet unwelcome. "Steve—stop, please, I can't—"

"You can, sweetheart, I know you can. Just a little bit more." He rubbed small, fast circles against your clit until you came with a scream, Steve clamping his hand over your mouth as he came, silencing your overstimulated cries.

He thrust deep into you, spilling his seed in your pussy. He groaned, held himself still for a moment, then pulled out. You whimpered, feeling his cock leave your abused channel, cum flowing freely from your cunt. Steve's cum. You never thought you could feel so disgusted.

Steve looked at where the cum was seeping out of you, scooping it up and pushing it back in with to fingers. You gasped, trying to squirm away from Steve's fingers.

"You're going to stop fucking Bucky," Steve ordered, his voice low. "Things are going to be strictly professional between you two from now on, Understand?"

Your eyes widened. You couldn't do that Bucky, he didn't deserve to be kicked to the curb like that.

"I said, 'do you understand?'"

The sharpness in his voice had you nodding, suddenly feeling like a kid trapped with the monster from under the bed.

Steve smiled. "Good."

He released your face, and you took that as your cue to get up. When you propped yourself up on your elbows, Steve pushed you back down. You gave him a quizzical look, he gave you a dark grin on return.

"You didn't think we were done, did you, sweetheart?"

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #ransom drysdale x reader #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey imagine #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #steve rogers x original female character

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vivid-wisp · 3 years

Text

You know how it be suffering from big brainrot being into FNF so I’ve compiled a list of ideas for the characters. This is more so for myself but thought I'd share some of my ideas. Take this as you will, these headcanons are based on educated guesses, actual lore, or just for fun. I also really like explaining my reasoning for some stuff so be ready for that. Long post. :]

Boyfriend / BF

- Is asian specifically Japanese, based on the idea how the dev team like to agree Hatsune Miku is BF’s canon sibling. Can also be asian American.

- Despite his appearance BF is actually somewhat physically strong and capable. If he can’t rap battle someone he’d be down to beat someone up, based on the idea how PA (Phantom Arcade) says he sucks at FromSoftware games and would rather throw down IRL than in video games.

- Him and Pico were exes, but they dated when they were WAY YOUNGER, and this was before when BF or Pico knew how to handle a relationship properly. Pico was the one to call things off. (more on Pico’s section) They may still get kind of flustered around each other.

- For most of his childhood, BF never really felt like he stood out. It leads into the reason why he likes singing since it ironically feels like he's being heard, despite not really liking to talk a lot. He was a very quiet kid back then. He'd always liked singing and rapping, he just wasn't put into a position of intense judgement until meeting GF's father and mother, rockstar and ex-rockstar. Training arc begins.

- BF took courses/majored in music design or sound design in college, but dropped out to spend more time with Girlfriend and practice his musical talent himself seeing as it felt more natural than doing boring classes.

- Despite what people think, BF doesn’t dye his hair. It WAS a different color but a shade, like a lighter blue color when he was younger. (Based on Ninjamuffin/NM's recent AMA answers)

- BF owns a dog, not specific but definitely a large breed of dog that stays at home and is taken care of by his parents. He loves a lot of pets and animals, especially anything blue.

- It’s no surprise BF isn’t the smartest, but this comes from a place of putting on the “bad boy” act and being told he’d never make it anywhere in life so he never tried. BF is really a soft guy who deep down has a good heart and just wants to show his appreciation to the person (GF) who makes him feel okay knowing you don’t have to be the best.

- BF actually CAN speak, but chooses to be selectively mute. More so because he’s not the best when it comes to words, and he’s never felt the need to talk. Don’t expect much because like in Week 6, it’ll likely just be random noises he makes or his signature “beeps!” He still reacts, just with noises. (we ignore the logic of him singing it just sounds like beeps to us the players while everyone in universe perfectly understands) [just saw NM's recent AMA I GODDAMN CALLED IT LET'S GOOOO]

Girlfriend / GF

- GF unsurprisingly, has a very wealthy background and in turn family too. So she’s no stranger to most expensive things. This doesn’t mean she won’t appreciate anything BF gifts her, in fact she’s more than appreciative of anything if it comes from BF her love.

- May or may not be a demon like her parents but she doesn’t want to scare BF, and also has slight appearance anxieties about it so she chooses to hide it by staying in her “human” form. She's self conscious of appearing like a demon, and doesn't want to scare people away just based on her look.

- So yes GF can and will in fact beat you up, a lot more than BF if she really wanted to. Especially if she went into her demon form.

- Also not the brightest, due to her extravagant background she’s been so spoiled to the point where everything is handed to her on a silver plate. Which also means her intelligence. They're both himbo/bimbo dynamic I don’t make the rules sorry.

- Actually really good at singing herself too, she’s a bit more wonky with rapping but she’s still good. Ties into the fact GF is the first to teach you how to rap/sing in the tutorial. If she really wanted to, she would destroy BF in a singing battle.

- Kinda aloof and can be apathetic, but more in the sense of “oh cool" instead of a "not caring" feeling way. Like moving on from something that was most definitely not cool like oh my god does that monster with bloody human teeth have a lemon for a head-

- Absolutely adores the large height difference between her and BF. She loves picking BF up suddenly and swinging him around. It’s cute and funny to her. (BF likes the height difference dynamic too but he'd never admit it)

Pico

- Pico never went to college nor finished, instead he takes up jobs from around the city as a mercenary. He's so skilled to the point it pays well enough he doesn't really need a job. He owns a small apartment.

- He likes spending time when he's not on the job, around BF and GF but this is more so at a distance. He does hang out with them, but don't expect him to show up automatically by their side. Like maybe once a week.

- Despite his original job to kill BF, Pico is very protective of BF and looks out for him albeit distantly. He knows BF can handle himself, but he will risk jumping into a situation if BF needs help. ONLY when he needs help.

- Pico still spends time with Nene and Darnell, but this is more so as an acquaintance thing. They're still friends, but all three of their jobs (as assassin and mercs) make things kind of awkward and distance from one another.

- Pico has a lot of untreated trauma, whether that be PTSD, schizophrenia, OCD, etc, a lot of it is very untreated. While Pico is aware he has some mental health disorders he's not aware of ALL of them. He frankly doesn't care nor does he really feel like dedicating the time to properly help himself, which stems from his upbringing in his childhood, "deal with it" attitude back then. He doesn't think it's a big deal, even though deep down he knows he should seek help. Especially after hanging out with BF and GF who, unsurprisingly, are (relatively) normal in the head unlike his friends Nene and Darnell. His disorders disrupt his everyday life and living routine, he can have a lot of very bad days.

- Pico is a wannabe DJ, he likes to sing and rap but prefers the latter and likes listening to music more rather than doing it itself. When he was a kid he liked BF for his passion for singing and rapping, and admired him in a way.

- BF and Pico went to the same elementary school, and were very much friends. After the events of Pico's School, Pico acted very different than how BF knew him, and somewhere along that path BF and Pico decided to date each other when they were in middle school (at 13-14). This was very much a hasty decision and didn't end well. Pico was the one to break things off due to knowing he couldn't handle the responsibility of another person, especially in a relationship. He had too much on his plate already from the trauma that still haunted him, and also was around the time Pico told BF he would be getting homeschooled instead after many years of decision with Pico's parents. It was best to end things before they'd spiral and get worse.

- While BF was heartbroken, he knew it was for the better even if he was upset for quite a bit. After Pico became homeschooled and left middle school, BF noticeably became more quiet until he'd meet GF near the beginning of high school. Pico and BF tried to keep in contact, but eventually naturally just fell out of touch with each other, both too busy with their own lives now. Pico never really resolved his whole feelings issues, which still show up when he'd meet BF years later again but knows those feelings are best left behind.

- While Pico was very surprised and shocked to see BF again despite being commissioned to kill BF, BF himself was too busy being caught up in seeing an old friend again. Whether that be BF was either too dumb to realize he was being killed or because he was genuinely very happy to see his old friend again, the two had a small reconcile after so many years and decided to rap for old time's sake.

#fnf #friday night funkin #fnf pico #fnf boyfriend #fnf girlfriend #idk how else to tag the rest and I’m too lazy to look it up so those yup #I just thought this list would be fun to make :]#picos school #this is a really long post im so sorry to any poor soul who actually read all of this #also i just read through a lot of NM's answers in his recent AMA and one of them has ruined me dhmu going dark

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