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gojos-thot-patrol · 9 months

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Otherwise known as Seven Minuets in Heaven Part. 2 ;)

Find Part One Here!

Dating isn't easy, and falling in love is even harder. Ryomens love for you isn't up for debate, you're the only girl he's ever felt this way about. What is questionable though is if he's ready to leave his playboy life for you. Were diving back into the Modern Day Frat Boy AU

Warning: This fic contains smut, fingering, cunnilingus, a creampie- you know the drill, as well as Hurt/Comfort, possessive themes (especially in the smut), yandere themes if you squint, and a very much unwanted kiss. Reader discretion is advised <3

It’s surreal just how many times a heart can break before it shatters. How many times you can watch your boyfriend, who swore oh so many times that you were his one and only, flirt with truly breath taking girls before you finally snap. How many times you can accept the unacceptable before it feels like a full body breakdown, before you’re hiding in your room, crying into his hoodie because despite everything he was still so comforting to your stupid heart that still hadn’t caught up with your brain in terms of relationship status.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This story technically starts four months ago, and about a week after your first personal encounter with Ryomen Sukuna.

“Hey man, are you gonna eat that?” Gojo asked, pointing to Ryomens waffle. Sukuna barely looked up from his phone before pushing the plate over to the white haired man, who took it greedily. The act caught the attention of group empath (derogatory) Suguru Geto, who raised an eyebrow at Ryomen from the other side of his coffee cup.

“You feelin’ ok man?” He asked, setting the mug down.

“She still hasn’t responded to my text, but she read it. Is this what getting ghosted feels like?” Ryomen asked, finally looking up from his phone, “This shit blows, why do I keep doing it to people?”

“Because you’re a creep.” Nanami said without thinking from behind his book, ignoring the glare from both Suguru and Sukuna.

“Is this about the girl from the party?” Geto questioned, failing horribly to hide his genuine shock. “You haven’t moved on yet?”

“Can’t blame him, she was hot as fuck.” Gojo pointed out, not even bothering to swallow the food in his mouth. A move that would backfire when Suguru hit his back, causing him to choke.

“It’s not for a lack of trying!” Ryomen said, pointedly ignoring Satoru, “Trust me, I have. I even tried hooking up with that one girl from the Kappa Phi Beta sorority, fucking....” He snapped his fingers to try and remember her name, “Yuki? I think?”

“And?” Gojo asked.

“I couldn't go through with it!” He snapped, more in frustrated with himself than anything else, “I felt like…wrong about it, like dirty. I faked a stomachache to get her to go home.”

“Uh huh.” Suguru said, sharing a concerned glance with Gojo. “Go on.”

“The whole time I was just thinking about Y/n.” He sighed, now earning Nanamis attention too, “About what she would think, and what if she finds out and it hurts her, I just…I couldn't do that.” Ryomen grumbled, resting his cheek on the table. It felt good to vent. Until he realized all three of his friends were looking at him as if he had just grown a second set of arms and two more eyes. “What?” He asked.

“Ryomen…” Suguru started slowly, trying to think of how to put this gently, “You…are a fucking moron.”

“Poor bastard..” Nanami muttered, shaking his head.

“This bitch got his dick wet once and fell in love.” Satoru laughed. Ryomens entire soul flinched at the suggestion, and panicked at the notion it could be right.

“No, absolutely not, that’s insane.” He insisted, sitting back up. “I’ve known her for like, a week! Who falls in love in a week?!” Frat boys in fan fiction, thats who.

“Then why are you getting so caught up in the fact she hasn’t texted you back?” Suguru asked. This was not helping Ryomens panic.

“Because it’s weird! Normally girls text me back immediately.”

“Right, so why does it matter so much that this one hasn’t?”

“Because…because!-”

“Because you’re in love.” Gojo giggled.

“Say that one more time Satoru and I’ll put Nair in your shampoo bottle.” Sukuna threatened. Satoru was suddenly very quiet.

“You still haven't answered the question,” Geto reminded him.

“It’s because I don’t want the other girls to text me back! I want her to! I want her attention, I want to talk to her, I want- Oh god damn it.” His ramblings turned into a near whine as he dropped his head into his hands at the realization. Suguru patted his back, trying to be comforting.

“It’s okay man, it happens to the best of us.” He assured him. He handed him his coffee cup, “Here, try this. It might help.” Ryomen had no fucking clue how black coffee was supposed to help, so of course he had to try it. The moment it hit his tongue he realized why it was supposed to help, almost spitting the drink out at the shock of the flavor. That wasn’t coffee. He looked up at who claimed to be the responsible one.

“Fucking Kahlua?” He asked. Geto shrugged.

“Technically its a black russian, so some vodka too.”

“Suguru It’s seven am.”

♥️♥️♥️

Two weeks after that conversation, you still hadn’t left that poor fools mind. "Either I didn't hear you right or you've picked up a coke habit." You scoffed. He shook his head.

"Nah, coke's a rich person drug. A lowly college student like me can only afford crack."

"They're the same thing, different forms."

"Tell that to the law." He shrugged. You dropped the argument there, knowing he had a point. You just rolled your eyes.

"Then I must not have heard you correctly." You groaned, "why are you inviting me to go fuck at your dorm at," you checked your phone, "8:17 AM?" He grinned and you wanted to punch him in the face. That grin never failed to make your heart flutter and squeal and want to marry him. Stupid fucking heart.

"I never said hook up, I asked if you wanted to go on a date.” Ryomen clarified, “Like, to go get lunch or something.” And this is where your confusion came in. You had been casually sleeping with Ryomen for a few weeks now, which was fun. But you had convinced yourself he would never want anything more. Why would he? You thought he had a roster of beautiful women getting in and out of his bed, why would he give that up to be with just one? It didn’t make sense to you.

“Ryomen, I thought we agreed we were going to keep it casual.” You reminded him. It was the unwritten contract the two of you agreed to when you started hooking up. It was to keep both of you from getting hurt feelings. He sighed and raised his hands in defense.

“Okay, not a date.” He paused for a second, “Hey, do you wanna like, go get dinner tonight, maybe catch a movie and then head back to mine?” He asked. You felt a blood vessel pop. At this point in your “relationship” with him, you were almost positive the only thing he kept behind those pretty doe eyes was the god damn audacity.

"Ryomen, that sounds like a date." You pointed out.

"Does it?" He played dumb, "well, if you insist we can make it a date." He fucking grinned again.

"No."

"Oh come on!" He said it loudly enough to earn a sharp shush from the teacher, reminding him that other people were here to learn not date. He rolled his eyes and returned to a whisper. "What's the worst thing that could happen if you go out with me?" He asked.

What's the worst thing that could happen? Easy: You fall in love. You already knew you liked him way more than any reasonable person would or should. His sense of humor fell in line perfectly with yours, you had similar taste in music and movies, and you knew that he was more caring than he would ever care to admit; a trait you noticed from watching him interact with his friends. To top it all off, he was smart as hell, and he was about as beautiful as God said the Devil would be. He was fucking dangerous, and so easy to love, you couldn't blame any of the girls that fell before you.

And that was the issue. Ryomen had a vice, and it was women. You’d seen it in action on campus, the way past flings would come up to him to try and rekindle something that was never lit in the first place. And he ate that shit up. He loved basking in the attention given to him, and if it made you jealous now, you couldn’t imagine the fights you’d get into if he was officially yours. And you really didn’t need a criminal record.

"What's the worst that could happen?" You reiterated, "I get Syphilis."

"I hate to break it to you, beautiful, but if that was the case you'd already have it." He chuckled. Yeah, you walked right into that one. You pinched the bridge of your nose, repressing the urge to yell at him that it was way too early for this shit.

"Ryo-"

"I love it when you call me that."

"-Men, Ryomen let me finish," you groaned, "I'm really trying to pay attention here, can you just drop it?" You sighed in exasperation.

"Sure, if you agree to go out with me." He smirked.

"Why are you so desperate for this date?!" You struggled to maintain a whisper, "Isn’t what we’re doing right now enough? You’re already getting what you want out of me, why do you want more?"

Ryomen felt himself shatter, like a wine glass being forced to endure Mariah Careys’ high note. He thought the two of you had moved past your perception of him as a fuck boy using you for you body but, apparently not. Did you not know? Did you not know you were the only woman that was allowed to sleep in his bed? The only girl who he brought to just casually hang out with his friends? The only person in the world that he had ever cuddled with? He didn’t talk about his after graduation plans with any of those other girls. He didn’t talk about his little brother, or why he was a business major to them. He didn’t stay up all night talking to them because he just wanted to hear their voice. All of that was reserved for you. You had no idea just how special you were to him.

"Because I don't just want your body, I want you!" He said just a little bit too loudly. Great, now people were looking, "You've all I've been thinking about for weeks, do you know how weird this is for me?! I'm going crazy over you, and you won't even give me a chance, You won’t let me prove to you that you’re important to me!” You could feel the eyes of the classroom drill into you, and it made you want to shrink away. Something had to give.

"If I agree to go on one, count them, one" you held up a finger for emphasis, "date with you, will you shut up?"

"Without hesitation."

"Fine, then shut up." You chastised him.

"Wait, so is that a yes?" He smiled wide, and if he was a dog his ears would have perked up.

"That's not shutting up!" You reminded him, "it's only a yes if you don't say another word this entire class period." He beamed as he nodded, giving the universal sign for 'My Lips Are Zipped' as he settled into his seat, and you wondered what the hell you had gotten yourself into.

♥️♥️♥️

“You dress way too extravagant for him.” Mei Mei sighed as she saw your outfit. You didn’t see where she was coming from. A tight, albeit plain, black mini dress with pumps was hardly what you would call extravagant. Though, you supposed in the context of your typical wardrobe it was quite the contrast. But, this was your fifth date with Ryomen, and he told you to dress nice. You thought back to your one date stipulation, and almost laughed. You really didn’t expect that first date to go so well.

“Aren’t you the one that told me there’s nothing wrong with dressing up for a date?” You asked as you finished putting on your earrings. She rolled her eyes as you threw that back at her.

“Yeah, if you think your relationship with the guy might actually go somewhere it’s fine.”

“Who’s to say my relationship with Ryo won’t go somewhere?” You scoffed as you turned to her. She scoffed back.

“Ryo?” She all but sneered, “Gross. And it won’t go anywhere because it’s Ryomen Sukuna. He’s like, the literal definition of manslut. He’s going to break your heart Y/n, and you’re not even his official girlfriend. You’re his toy.” Mei muttered. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You knew her condescension came from a place of concern. Mei Mei had been with a lot of guys, and had her heart broken by even more. You almost took what she said into consideration. Then you remembered she had never really expressed concern for you before your situationship, and quickly brushed her off.

“He’s waiting for me.” You smiled at her as you left your shared dorm. You found him standing outside the building, exactly where he said he’d be. He always looked handsome, but tonight he looked damn near dashing. The black dress shirt and slacks worked for him, especially with the sleeves rolled up. He grinned when he saw you, and your heart squealed like a school girl in a shoujo anime. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t walk a little faster to get into his arms.

“Hey gorgeous,” He laughed as he picked you up in one of his signature bear hugs. You could get lost in the comfort of his arms. He sat you down with an adoring smile.

“Hey Handsome,” you winked, “Ready for our date?” He was taking you to a super upscale restaurant downtown. One of those places where you have to make the reservation like, a week in advance and pay way too much for not enough food. Admittedly, it made you kinda nervous.

“No, not at all,” His confession was disguised with a joke. He was as nervous as you were. “I have to give you something first.” By the power of plot, it was only then that you noticed the thin box in his hand. He lifted it up, presenting it to you as if he was a jeweler as he opened it. You didn’t quite process what you were looking at at first. It was a small white gold, cursive R with small rubies embedded into the stem of the letter. The pendent hung from a dainty white gold chain, and every ounce of your poor kid blood just knew that necklace cost more than your parents rent.

“Ryomen, what the fuck?” You asked, not fully processing the situation.

“I like to mark what’s mine.” He shrugged with a devilish smirk, “You don’t have to take it, but I bet it would look good on you.”

“I look good in everything,” You said, taking it out of the box to admire it. It really was a beautiful piece of custom jewelry. Your first reaction was to reject the gift. Gifts like these didn’t come without conditions, expectations. You knew that by accepting the necklace, you were accepting Ryomen. You couldn’t deny your situation anymore, couldn’t delude yourself into thinking the two of you were less than what you were. You’d have to accept the reality in front of you, the future in front of you. You looked at him and felt the smile tug at your lips. “Will you put it on me?”

“Gladly.” He said, trading you box for necklace. As he fastened the ornate safety clasp around your neck, he leaned down. “I trust you know this means you’re my girl, yeah?” He whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You hummed, placing a hand on his head to hold him still while you kissed his cheek. Mei Mei was gonna be pissed.

♥️♥️♥️

“Look, we’ll only be there for like, thirty minuets,” Sukuna groaned, rubbing his temple with his left hand. “ABO is throwing the party, so all of us have to show some face.”

“Do you have to show some face, or sell some weed?” You asked, crossing your arms as the two of you walked down the street. In the two months you had been with Sukuna, you had been to more parties than you could count. Which was really starting to stress you out, considering you fucking hated parties.

“Why cant it be both?” he sighed.

“You still haven’t explained why I need to come.” You huffed, pulling down your short dress. You had been trying to put more effort into your appearance lately, and experimenting with just how much skin you were comfortable showing. Sometimes you got it right, sometimes you didn’t.

“I told you babe, guys are fucking idiots. They wanna buy drugs from the guy with the prettiest girl on his arm, and when you’re with me, I’m always that guy.” He smirked, hoping that was going to diffuse the situation at least a little bit. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

“Really? You’re flirting with me? Right now?” You scoffed.

“It was worth a shot, right?” He shrugged.

“I’m going to fucking bite you!” you threatened, stopping in your tracks to emphasize how pissed off you were. He sighed again as he stopped and turned to face you. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him, fighting the grin that came up as he noticed the slight shock on your face. He managed to suppress it though, and put his puppy dog eyes into action for evil.

“I know you don’t want to go babygirl, I’m sorry,” He murmured to you, ghosting the back of his knuckles along your jawline, “But will you go? For me? I’m only asking for thirty minuets.” Fuck. Fuck. This was a dirty tactic and he fucking knew it. You sighed, dropping your forehead onto his chest, and hugging him back as he pulled you into a proper embrace.

“Fine, but…can you promise me you’re not going to flirt any other girls there? Or let them flirt with you?” You muttered.You didn’t just hate parties for the drunken social aspect of them, though that was a part of it. No, you hated them because they always started fights in your relationship. Normally, you loved being with Ryomen. He was sweet and caring, and you knew he loved you. But he also had a problem with leading on other girls.

You knew his attention whore antics would be a problem, and while you believed him when he said it was never physical- just flirting, that he didn’t even realize he was doing it, it always hurt you anyway. There was always a seed of doubt that it wasn’t as subconscious as he claimed. That maybe he didn’t love you as much as he said he did.

“Of course baby girl, you know you’re my one and only.” He promised, wrapping his arm around you as he walked you to the fraternity house. You had a sinking feeling in your soul this was a bad idea, one that only got worse as you saw all the drop dead gorgeous women in the room.

“Hey, I’m gonna go grab us some drinks, want anything?” He asked, knocking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll come with.” You said, following Ryomen to the kitchen. There sat Nanami in his designated spot behind the bar, half heartedly listening to an art major talk about the impressionist movement. He was nodding along like he understood, like he was engaged, but there was no light behind his eyes. You felt bad for the art major.

Ryomen grabbed two cups of the frat jungle juice for the two of you. You took yours and quickly started to chug without even considering who made it, and almost immediately gagged at the burn. You managed to choke it down after a fight for your life. “What the hell is in that?!” You snapped.

“Oh, Suguru made the juice this time,” Nanami said, taking any opportunity to leave the art history conversation, “It has like, an entire bottle of everclear in it.”

“An entire bottle?” You asked in disbelief, “Is he okay?”

“No.” Nanami scoffed, as if you should know.

“Hey, Ryomen!” Satoru laughed as he and Suguru spotted Sukuna. They walked into the kitchen. “And Y/n!” Gojo gasped when he saw you, always shocked to see you at these events no matter how many you attended. He ran over and hugged you, causing you to chuckle softly and Ryomens eye to twitch. He quickly got in between you two, pulling you from Satorus arms and into his. Gojo rolled his eyes, but otherwise let it go.

“I’m glad you could make it!” He smiled.

“I always do,” You laughed to hide your frustration with that statement.

“We’ve got a beer pong table set up outside, wanna play?” Suguru asked. There was a beat before you realized.

“Wait, me?” You asked, a little shocked. You fully expected him to be talking to Ryomen.

“Yeah, you,” He chuckled, “You’re our Fraternity Sweetheart, we gotta show you off somehow, right?”

“She is not the frat sweetheart.” Ryomen scoffed before you could process the information.

“Oh yes she is!” Gojo declared, “Everyone on campus knows it!” Everyone except you apparently.

“No, shes not!” Ryomen insisted. He hated that they called you that. It made him feel like he had to share you with them, a thought that made him actively violent. They could find some other sorority sister to be their sweetheart, but you were his. “Nanami, back me up here.”

“Sorry man, I’m with the boys on this one.” He shrugged, “She’s at all of our events, she’s here every weekend, the chapter loves her.” Oh he did not like the verbiage used there.

“I love how you guys all thought to ask me how I felt about this, so very thoughtful of you.” You laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Yea, exactly! You don’t even want to be a sweetheart, do you baby girl?” Ryomen asked, fully turning to you. A realization hit you like a truck trying to teleport you to a fantasy world. Something in the way he said baby girl, in how intense he was in fighting against the tittle. Ryomen was jealous. Of course, this was nothing new, but the idea of him being jealous of these guys just felt so absurd to you. You were used to giving into his jealousy, to baby it and tend to it; like a dutiful nurse. Protecting his ego at all cost. Your first instinct was to continue that tradition, but then you thought about it again. He never went out of his way to try and take care of your jealousy. And being a fraternity sweetheart may actually be fun.

“I mean, I am at every single party you guys throw, I might as well be the sweetheart, right?” You smiled and the other guys cheered, even Nanami let out a little whoop! Ryomens eyes looked dark though. He knew exactly what you were throwing in his face. You wanted to say being this petty was unlike you, but since you started dating Ryomen…

“You offered beer pong?” You smiled to Suguru, who gladly took you outside to the table, Satoru tagging along with a reluctant Ryomen dragging behind.

It had been four months since you first slept with Sukuna, and two months since you got together. Sometimes you questioned that decision. Actually, you questioned it a lot. You questioned if he ever actually wanted to be in a relationship, or just liked the idea of it. If he wanted to have someone stable waiting for him at home while he still got to do what- or who- ever he wanted. The way he talked to some of the girls at these parties made you think that was the case. He talked to them almost as if he forgot he had a girlfriend, or worse, as if he resented the fact he had one.

Which was so unbearably confusing for you! He pursued you so fervently, as if he was convinced you were soul mates. You were happy to keep things casual with him for exactly this reason. He was the one that wanted to take things to the next level, He was the one that made things official, hell- He was the first one to say I Love You! And it’s not like he tried to hide you, he posted you on social media, he took you out as often as he could, that motherfucker tried to get a tattoo of your god damn name! Thank God Suguru talked him out of that one. It didn’t make sense to you that he would be this obsessed with you regularly, but the moment he got a few shots in his system and a cute girl approached him it’s like you were a ghost to him. It made you fucking angry.

The air was warm and full of laughing as you played against Satoru.

“Hey, you have to bounce it, you can’t throw it!” He giggled, trying to swat away your ball.

“Oh, but you can swat it?!” You scoffed through smiles, “Unfair rules!” This was your third round, and he only had one cup left. That being said, he was about half way through yours, and you were definitely starting to feel it. It was actually kinda nice to be thoroughly enjoying a party. To feel like you were here to hang out with your friends and not just to please your man.

“Come on Satoru, how are you going to lose to someone who’s wasted?!” Suguru laughed, grabbing your elbow to help steady you. You should have known something was wrong when Ryomen didn’t step in.

“By also being wasted!” Gojo chuckled as he completely missed his shot and you sunk yours. Cheers and hollers erupted in the crowd, and you proudly threw up both hands as you had won again. You felt like a star. Like you were actually cool, and accepted. You felt amazing. You looked over to your darling boyfriend to share the moment with him.

Only to feel every once of warmth leave your body when you saw him talking to another woman. You knew her well, Amanda from your english class. She talked all the time about how hot Ryomen was before the two of you got together, and joked about stealing him after. From the look of that heart wrenching grin he had on while he talked to her, it looked like she had a chance.

“Walk away. Just walk away.” You thought.“Come to me.” She laughed obnoxiously loud at a joke that probably wasn’t even that funny. Even he looked surprised at the reaction he got. Then she got closer. Your body went into rigor mortis as your lungs forgot how to work. “No. Please No.”

She kissed him. The next three seconds felt like three years. You watched her wrap a hand around his neck and pull him closer, wrap another hand in his hair and you fought vomit. It was a tender act you thought was sacred between the two of you. You guessed not. You ran off, not having the heart to watch anymore. You didn’t see him push her away and onto her ass. You didn’t hear him yell at her.

“What the fuck skank?! Why the fuck would you do that?!” He scoffed, aggressively wiping his mouth.

“I-I’m sorry! I just thought the conversation was going well, so-”

“So you fucking kiss me?! Do you do that to every man you have a conversation with?!” He physically spat, “You didn’t even fucking ask! Have you never heard of fucking consent?!”

“Look, I thought-!”

“No, you didn’t think of shit! I have a fucking girlfriend, do you know that?! Jesus fucking christ.” He groaned, walking away from the situation to find you.

You were making your way through the house to go home, fighting tears because you’d be damned if these assholes saw you cry. You swam through the sea of drunken bodies swaying in the house. The bass from the music felt all too intense, the lights all too bright. Everything was just too much. You felt disconnected from and all too aware of your body all at once, and all you really wanted was non-existence.

“Leaving so soon?” Nanami asked from his place on the houses steps as you walked out. He looked up, noticing the tears you had let slip, and his eyes widened a bit. He immediately dropped the asshole act, standing up and placing a concerned hand on your shoulder. “Y/n, are you okay? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Ryomen is a cheating bastard.” You managed to gasp through choked breath. This whole not crying thing was so much harder than you thought. That didn’t sound like the Ryomen Nanami knew though. The Ryomen Nanami knew didn’t shut up about his girl. He wanted to marry her after graduation, he was trying to build a life with her. He wouldn’t cheat on her. Something wasn’t right.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, but that can’t be right. Theres gotta be a mis-”

“I gotta go Kento.” You whimpered, brushing his hand away. You refused to listen to one of his frat dude friends try to defend him. You took off the R that weighed down on your neck, his claim to you, and handed it to Nanami. You knew you wouldn’t be able to face him again to return it. “Please give that to him, I need to leave.” You muttered, all but running away from the party.

You should have known better. You did know better. You hated that you expected this and still got hurt. Everything just felt so unbearably heavy. When you broke up with your last boyfriend, you just felt numb. You felt about as inconvenienced by it as when they got your order wrong at Mcdonalds. Annoyed, yeah- maybe even pissed off. But ultimately you got over it quick, it had barely hurt your week.

But this? This felt like hell. This felt wrong. Like when a loved one suddenly dies, or if your house burned down while you were away; like the universe was fundamentally broken- turned upside down and left to rot. You felt so fundamentally stupid for giving him a chance. For letting him trick you into thinking he was in anything other than lust. For falling in love with a demon like him. All of the devotion and warmth you held for him tasted so fucking bitter, like it had been preverted and turned into a curse. You wanted to crawl home and tell your mom she was right.

But, your dorm was much closer. “Hey nerd, how was the- oh no.” Mei Mei said, looking up from her laptop as she heard the door open. You looked like a rejected member of Kiss, make up running down your red face, hair a mess from the outside wind.

“Mei mei, he-” You tried to get it out, but just choked on your words, breaking down into the sobs you were holding back. Mei rushed over to wrap her arms around you and keep you from collapsing in on yourself.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry.” She sighed, leading you over to your bed and sitting down with you. She knew what happened without you saying it. She knew it was going to happen. She was mostly just shocked it took this long.

“I’m so stupid..”

“Yea, a little bit.” She confirmed, patting your back and shushing you as you broke into another sob. Your phone went off. She checked it for you, snarling at the ‘where are you?’ text he sent. That motherfucker had a lot of gaul. She tossed your phone into your desk drawer, then went and grabbed the emergency ice cream she kept in her fancy mini fridge. She joined you on the bed with two spoons and her laptop.

“Okay, what do you wanna watch?” She asked, pulling up netflix.

Meanwhile, Ryomen was losing his mind looking for you, and Nanami was losing his mind looking for him. “There you are!” Kento snapped as he finally found Ryomen coming out of their shared dorm.

“Nanami, have you seen Y/n?” He asked immediately, “I can’t find her, and I’m about to start hitting people about it.” He said, running a nervous hand through his hair. He had never lost you for this long before, and he was really starting to panic now. If anything had happened to you, he was going to make tomorrows nine o’clock news.

“Yeah, she ran out like an hour ago saying you cheated on her, is that true?” Nanami asked, feeling like he already knew the answer.

“What?!” Ryomen snapped, grabbing Nanami by the shoulders, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that an hour ago?!”

“Because I’ve been looking for you for an hour dipshit!” He yelled, pushing Ryomen off, “Answer the question!”

“No it’s not fucking true! Why the hell would I do something that fucking stupid?!” Ryomen scoffed at the very idea of such a thing. He remembered his encounter with Yuki, before the two of you had even become casual partners. The thought of trying to be with another woman made him nauseous then, and that feeling had only intensified as your relationship grew.

“Then why does she think that you did?” Nanami questioned further, trying to get to the bottom of the situation.

“I don’t know! I-” Shit. He didn’t even finish his sentence before the unwanted kiss flooded his memories. A hit from a sledge hammer wielded by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson would have been softer than the realization that not only did you see the kiss, but thought it was welcomed. Suddenly, he didn't have blood in his veins anymore, only liquid nitrogen. “Oh my god, she saw Amanda kiss me.”

“What?! Ryomen, you said you didn’t che-”

“I didn’t!” He snarled, “She kissed me when I was trying to sell to her. I pushed her off, it was not mutual!” The last thing Suguru and Gojo expected to find when they went to slip off to their room was Nanami and Ryomen fighting in the hall, but, suppose theres a first time for everything.

“Whats going on?” Gojo asked, needing to be in the center of every drama ever.

“Y/n thinks Ryomen cheated on her.” Nanami explained.

“You fucking what?!” Suguru hissed, ready to fight on your behalf.

“I didn’t actually do it!” Ryomen yelled in his own defense. “She saw Amanda kiss me, but I guess missed the part where I yelled at her for assault!”

“Well she’s officially on the ban list.” Satoru stated what everyone else assumed went without saying.

“Wait, where is Y/n now?” Geto asked.

“Home, I assume. It’s where she was going.” Nanami explained.

“I have to go get her.” Ryomen said more to himself than anyone else, attempting to leave before Gojo stopped him.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Satoru asked, “If it just happened, she may not be willing to listen to you yet.”

“No, Ryomen’s right. The longer he lets this sit the worse it’ll get.” Suguru pointed out. “This is something you address immediately.”

“Not necessarily! She may be working it out on her own,” Satoru was being delusional, “I mean, has she broken up with you yet right? Like officially? Cause if not, showing up at her doorstep out of no where may be the end your relationship.” Wait, he had a point.

“No, She hasn’t broken up with me.” Ryomen sighed in almost relief. You two were still together, that ment there was hope. Hope of a conversation, hope to save the future he had built for you two. Maybe all wasn’t lost.

“Yeah, so…about that.” Nanami muttered almost sheepishly as he held up the white gold necklace you had tossed at him. Ryomen felt his soul evacuate his body and the liquid nitrogen in his veins turn into lead. The room was spinning and the only thing he could focus on was the jewels that should have been around your neck. The symbol of your relationship, dangling abandoned from Nanami's fingers. You had left him and he didn’t even know it.

“Shit.” Mai Mai muttered, checking her phone half way through an episode of whatever you had put on. “Shoko got too fucked up and needs a ride home from the bar.” She sighed. You knew what that meant.

“That’s ok,” you managed a smile, “Go make sure she’s safe.”

“Are you going to be okay?” That was a loaded question if you’d ever heard one.

“Yeah Mei, I’m not gonna like, kill myself or something stupid like that.” You forced a laugh to really sell that you were falling apart. Mei gave a concerned face, but knew that Shoko still needed her help.

“I’ll be back in like, an hour, ok?” She said as she grabbed her keys, “If you need anything or god forbid he shows up, call me, ok?” She demanded more than asked.

“Okay, I will.” You sighed, waving off your friend as she left. Once alone, you decided you might as well take the opportunity to get into pajamas. You shuffled to your closet, feeling more like a zombie than much else. That was until you opened the door to reveal Ryomens hoodie hanging up with the rest of your clothes. The icy tendrils of despair returned, and despite your better judgment you pulled the old hoodie down.

He had left it here a few weeks back, and you had been snuggling up in it ever since. At the time it was a major comfort, now it was just another thing to return later. Despite yourself, you still hugged it, imaging you were just hugging him goodbye for some closure. You hoped it would help you let go. Instead what happened is you were greeted with his familiar scent, pine and cigarettes, and your eyes started gushing again.

You collapsed onto your bed as you clung to the fabric, wishing it was him. That tonight had never happened, and he was still yours. It was a nice thought. Your pity party was interrupted by what could only be described as a cop knock on your door. It startled a yelp out of you, and almost scared you enough to make you forget you were sad.

“Y/n, please, let me in.” Mother fucker! Why would he think this was a good idea?!

“No Sukuna, I have nothing to say to you.” You snapped, and he cringed on the other side of the door. He hated when you used his last name for him. It made him feel like his father.

“That’s fine! Just let me say what I have to say.” He begged, “Y/n, it’s not what you think.”

The Audacity

How fucking dare he show up to your door with the worlds lamest fucking excuse and expect it to work?! How fucking dare he act like you didn’t have two working eyes! The rage that filled you with pushed you off the bed and to the door, throwing it open just to smack him across the face. His eyes blew wide at the attack. He had never seen you violent before. He kinda liked it.

“You’re a real fucking douche bag, do you know that?!” You snapped, “You spent fucking months trying to get me to agree to be with you, just to do this to me! Do you know how much this hurts?!”

“Y/n, I-!”

“I’m not done!” You shouted, officially pissing off your across the hall neighbor.

“Take it to your dorm, not the hall!” Utahime yelled from behind her door. You growled, but reluctantly pulled him into your room, closing the door behind the two of you.

“You lead me on for fucking months, fucking months, making me think you loved me and wanted to be with me, just for it to turn out to all be a lie! Then, when you realize you fucked up, you turn up at my door with the lamest excuse known to man! What the fuck do you have to say for yourself?!” You hissed, venom dripping for your lips like thick cyanide.

“She kissed me,” He explained, holding up his hands when he saw you open your mouth to argue, “You asked me what I had to say for myself, right? This is what I have to say, just let me talk.” You closed your mouth reluctantly, waiting for him to continue.

“She started talking to me because she wanted to try pot and knew I had some to sell. I sold her an ounce and we kept talking about her fucking major or some shit. Honestly, I don’t even remember what we were talking about, I was just trying to give good customer service. But I guess she was into it, cause out of no where she kissed me. But I didn’t kiss her back, Y/n! I pushed her off of me, I yelled at her that I had a girlfriend, hell, I’m pretty sure I fucking spit on her. You have to believe me Baby, I wanted nothing to do with that!”

He was talking fast and panicked, and not at all like how he normally spoke. Like he was scared for his life, grabbing his hair and trying to control his breathing. His fear almost transferred to you, but all you really wanted was to hug him, to assure him it was okay. A part of you wanted to deny it all, because that was so much easier than admitting you were wrong and jumped to conclusions. That you let Mei Mei and your mother get into your head.

But you knew your boyfriend better than that. You knew that this wasn’t the ramblings of a liar, but the ramblings of a desperate man needing to be heard. The honesty in his eyes, the tremble in his normally steady voice. You thought about how Nanami tried to argue with you when you first accused Ryomen. At the time you refused to hear any of it, but Nanami had never been one to bull shit anyone or defend his fraternity brothers shitty actions. And suddenly, your stomach filled with stones as you realized what you had done, what you had almost thrown away.

“Ryomen,” You muttered, slowly approaching him as if he was a hurt animal.

“I kept looking for you after it happened, I was going to tell you! But you were gone-”

“Ryo,” You tried again to cut through his thoughts, standing close enough now to touch him.

“But then fucking Nanami found me, and he had your necklace, and-” Oh shit, he wasn’t there anymore. You recognized a doom spiral when you saw one. You gently grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look at you. Those puppy dog eyes you fell in love with were wide and full of fear, filling you with a sick dread that made your skin feel far too tight.

“Baby, look at me. You’re getting lost in your head.” You said softly, using your thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I-”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry I ran away instead of just talking to you about what happened.” You sighed.

“Yea that was kinda hypocritical of you.” He nodded.

“Ryomen.”

“I’m just saying, you’re the one talking about how important communication is.”

“And I apologized, did I not?!” You laughed at the emotional whiplash of it all. He let a small smile slip as he watched. He finally felt like he could breathe again. He pulled you into a tight hug and kissed the top of your head.

“I swear, this love shit’s gonna put me in the ground.” He more gasped than laughed, the crash of his body no longer being in fight or flight mode weighing heavy on him.

“Ain’t that the truth.” You huffed, shaking your head as best as you could against his chest. Your body still hadn’t gotten the memo that things were okay now. Your bones still felt like they were shaking in your skin. He parted enough to hook his finger under your chin, tilting your head up at him. Your heart skipped a beat, taking in how soft he looked in the moonlight fluttering in from your window. He was proof god had favorites. He smiled softly to you.

“I think you’re worth it though.” He whispered, before leaning down and pressing his soft lips to yours. It didn’t matter how many times they two of you kissed, your heart always freaked out about it- like a mega fan in the pit at a concert. Your arms instinctively moved to wrap around his neck, he he took you by the hips, pulling you deeper into the kiss. He bit your lip, and took the opportunity of your soft moan to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Your body started warming back up, his comforting smell putting your panic response to ease. Your nervous system pulsated back to life, sparks flying in your blood waiting to be caught in his inferno. On one hand, it felt almost wrong to be kissing him so soon after the events of the night- like a betrayal of yourself. On the other, your heart craved him like a drug, his affection gave you a high that nothing else could even come close too. You felt like you were spinning and a heat was quickly pooling in your legs that you knew he could take care of.

One of your hands tangled into his soft pink hair, tugging softly. He took that as his que to pick you up. You wrapped your legs around his hips long enough for him to sit you down on the side of the bed. His kisses moved from your lips to your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck. You moaned softly as he sucked soft bruises into your collar bone.

He pushed you back down on the bed, lowering himself to his knees in between your legs, like a sinner praying for forgiveness at an altar.. You were suddenly pretty thankful you hadn’t gotten around to changing yet. He hiked the dress up around your hips, smiling when he saw the underwear you were wearing.

“Black lace, huh?” He teased, forgetting the past like, hour and a half apparently, “Were you planning this sweetheart?”

“I assure you I did not plan on us breaking up.” You laughed. He did not like that you used the words “Breaking Up” and “Us” in the same sentence. It didn’t affect him they way that it did before. It didn’t fill him with that overwhelming feeling of panic that it had earlier. It didn’t freeze him in place. Instead, it just filled him with white hot rage. Surely you knew better than that, right? You were his, you weren’t going anywhere. “Breaking up” was not an option. He just had to remind you who you belonged to.

“Good thing we didn’t break up.” He said. Before you could protest, he pushed your panties to the side and ran his warm tongue along your folds, earning him a soft, pretty gasp from your lips. He smirked to himself, noticing how wet you were from just kissing, gathering the silky liquor on his tongue, and swirling it onto your clit. He started spelling his nickname with his tongue, R. Y. O, R. Y. O, and you were lost to whatever he wanted.

Your body pulsated with electricity, every swipe of his tongue sending a new wave of bliss through your body. You moaned out his name, fingers tangling into his hair to try and keep yourself grounded. You felt like you were made of pop rocks and stars, eyes rolling back in pleasure, pulling him closer to your core. You could feel a tsunami building inside of you, a sea of pleasure threatening to over take you.

“Have I ever told you how sweet you taste?” Sukuna moaned, sliping two fingers inside of your gushing pussy. You mentally added that to the list of weird compliments you had received since becoming bedfellows with the wannabe bad boy. Or, tried to I should say. As you were filing the thought away, he curled his fingers into your g-spot, turning any coherent thoughts you had had before into oh fuck that felt good and fuck I’m already getting close. Ryomen felt the way your cunt clenched around his fingers, and felt his own dick twitch. He knew how that clench felt around his cock, and more than anything he wanted to feel it again.

“Ryo, I-I’m...yea” You tried to warn him, but the electric shockwaves going through your body made communication rather difficult at that moment.

“Oh yea?” He chuckled from between your legs, punctuating his sentence with a sharp suck to the bundle of nerves between your legs. “Then cum for me pretty girl.” It didn’t take much after that, his words of affirmation waking up butterflies in your stomach and in your cunt. A few more curls of his fingers and swipes from his tongue and suddenly cartoon stars were exploding in front of your eyes. Your climax tore through you with a vengeance, the storm hitting you and drowning your senses in bliss and oxytocin. Your entire body felt like it had been struck by lighting made of erotic thrill, the aftershocks leaving you shaking in it’s wake.

Your soul was still trying to make it’s way back to your body when his lips met yours again, your taste mingling with his on your tongue and leaving your head spinning. You went to grab his shirt, finding that he had taken it off at some point, which was more than okay with you. He nipped at your jaw and your neck before pulling away and getting you up long enough to take your dress off you. You went to take off your bra, only for him to stop you.

“Hey, hey, whats the rush?” He asked from the foot of your bed, wicked grin showing off his naturally sharp canines, “Take it off slowly.” This was 100% a power play and you know it. Normally this fucker was literally ripping clothes to get them off you quicker, your sudden uptick in panty buying could attest to that. But now all of the sudden he wanted to go slow? Fine, you could play that game.

You stood on your knees to give him a better view, slowly shimmying the straps off your shoulders. His scarlet eyes burned into your every movement as you slipped your arms out of the straps as elegantly as one could. You made eye contact with him as you unhooked your bra, one hook at a time. Or, tried to at least. His eyes were trained on your chest. You grinned at the aggravated groan he let out, watching you catch the fabric before it fell and revealed your breast. His eyes were dark and you could tell by his shifting his jeans were getting too tight.

“Slow enough for you?” You smirked at him.

“Keep running that mouth and I’ll give you something to do with it.” He warned, and you just laughed, finally letting your bra drop to the mattress. You saw his body physically tense as to not grapple you then and there.

“You want my mouth? Oh, but I’d much rather have you somewhere else.” You teased, looping your thumbs into the sides of your underwear as you started to pull them off your hips at an agonizing pace. Ryomen felt like he was going to lose it, feeling his fingers, among other extremities, twitch with the need to touch you. He tried to be a good boy, he really did, but when you rolled your hips at him he lost it. In a flash he had pulled you under him, and was fumbling with his belt.

“Hey, what happened to slow?” You teased.

“Fun experiment, not for me.” He responded, freeing himself from his jeans and lining himself up with your still dripping entrance. He caught your lips in a kiss as he dived in, swallowing your sweet moans as he filled you to the brim. It didn’t matter how many times Ryomen was in between your legs, it always felt like the first. The burning stretch as his hips connected with you setting your body on fire and filling your brain with tv static. You could feel your already weak legs tremble around him, and he groaned as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

“God pretty girl, you feel so fucking good for me.” He moaned, setting a brutal pace as he pushed into you, his cock brushing against your g-spot and massaging your cervix. “Like you were made to be on my cock.” Who he was talking to was a mystery to you because you were not there. You were in outer space, floating on atoms and space dust as he rocked into you, bliss filling your veins as you felt euphoria spread through you and pool in your core.

He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, letting him dive even deeper into your velvety walls. He grabbed your hips in a vice grip, no doubt leaving bruises you could take finger prints off of. Every thrust hit your g-spot, the new position letting him reach places that you didn’t know existed. “Oh, fuck, Ryo don’t stop.” You begged.

“Didn’t plan on it,” He assured you, watching the way your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “Hey no-” He growled, removing his hand from your hip to grab your chin, “Look at me.” You whined as you opened your eyes, meeting his lust filled gaze. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You Ryomen..” You moaned, feeling yourself reaching your peak.

“Who’s the only person that makes you feel this good?” He demanded the validation.

“You, Ryomen, you!” You squirmed underneath him as all of the stimulation became too much. Your hands started to tingle as your body got ready to tumble off a cliff. You weren’t even fully processing what he was asking, you just knew to say his name.

“Who do you belong to Y/n?”

“Ryomen..” You whimpered, digging your claws in his back as your legs trembled, “Ryo, please..” You gasped, teetering on the edge. His hand left your chin and found your clit, massaging expert circles into it. It was your tipping point, sending you hurtling over the edge of your orgasm and head over heels into euphoria, the sea of bliss overtaking you as red hot lava replaced your blood. You felt almost dizzy as you were hit with wave after wave of ecstasy, vision going blurry with tears from the intensity of it all.

Ryomen wasn’t far behind you, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, pulling him in deeper and deeper with every convulsion. He told himself he really couldn’t have pulled out even if he wanted to; filling you until you were overflowing and thanking Aphrodite for the invention of birth control. He rolled you over as he collapsed next to you, managing to stay inside.

The two of you stayed like that for awhile, breathing deep in your afterglow, before he finally pulled out, albeit reluctantly. He kissed the top of your head, fixing his pants and finding a washcloth to clean you up with. “I’d say sorry for the mess but, It’s kinda hot.” He chuckled softly. You rolled your eyes and threw on his shirt.

“Dick.” You muttered. He nodded in agreement.

“Is that a request? I could go again.” He grinned as you weakly hit his arm with your finger tips.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumbled softly. He nodded.

“I know…I love you too.” He whispered. He waited a second before adding, “We’re still together, right?” more as a formality than anything.

“No, I slept with you as one final hurrah before deleting your number.” you joked.

“Oh, well then, I guess you won’t be needing this?” He asked, pulling your pendant from his pocket. Your eyes widened a bit as you saw it, almost forgetting that you had ever taken it off to begin with. Your hand instinctively went to your neck to protect it, only to find nothing there. obviously.

“My necklace-” You said, but he shook his head.

“Nope, my necklace. Unless you wanna be my girlfriend?” He smirked that evil smirk. You laughed fondly at him, then gave an overly exaggerated sigh.

“Well I suppose, if it’s the only way to get my jewelry back, then we gotta get back together.” He chuckled as he hooked the chain around your neck again, admiring the way it dazzled against your skin.

“It looks good on you.” he praised, kissing your forehead.

“Everything looks good on me.” You winked.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO CALLING ME IF HE SHOWED UP?!” Mei yelled as she finally returned home.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ Taglist ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

@risuola @grimreaqueer @baji-keisukes-wife @aliensbelieveinme-blog1 @marenalee @ryosuku

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #frat boy! sukuna x reader #jjk frat boy au #fratboy!sukuna #soft sukuna #hurt/comfort #college au #modern au #sukuna smut #curseless au

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your-highnessmarvel · 6 months

Text

My Wife

Requested by Anonymous: Can you do a one with Loki getting very jealous at someone flirting with his s/o and he walks over and drops not-so-slight hints of murder? And the s/o is just laughing her head off next to him. I really love your fluffs, they're fluffier than my grandmother's buns! Please never stop writing; your writing makes me grin...

AN: I'm so happy to be back writing fluff for loki omg

Warnings: Female!reader

*gif not mine

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MASTERLIST

You threw your head back, laughing.

"I didn't take you for the jester, senator!" you laughed, clinking your glass with the new up-and-coming politician before you.

He was a very young man, one of the youngest to be assisting the king of Vanaheim. Senator York was blonde and tanned, and by what you'd heard around the Asgardian court, he was very good with the ladies.

"Well, beautiful young ladies are prone to make my joking side surface!" he returned, winking.

You smiled politely, but you had a wicked thought of flashing the grotesquely big diamond on your finger. Just so the senator knew that you weren't one of the ladies he could be very good with.

"And what about a Mrs. Senator?" you asked, bringing your champagne glass to your lips and taking a sip.

York chuckled politely. "I have a few years ahead of me before I make president," he answered. "By then, I except the king will have a gorgeous display of choices for me to bride."

Which basically translated to, "I want to fuck until it's socially unacceptable to be unmarried."

You hummed. "Well, I expect presidency soon, senator," you encouraged.

"With such a beautiful sponsor on my arm, I suspect my chances are good," he said, another wink disgracing his features.

You felt a cold, dark wind at your side and something flashed green in your peripheral. "That's the second time in a minute that you've called my wife beautiful."

York's eyes grew wide at the towering figure of Loki, dressed in his royal black, gold, and green attire, short dark strands pulled behind his ears. He gave you a side look, and you could see murder in his green eyes.

"My Lord," York stuttered. "I was only admiring your beautiful - "

"That's three," Loki snarled. He took a dangerous step forward.

You put a hand on his elbow, culling his murderous gaze back down to you. "Easy there, tiger." Then you smiled hesitantly at York. "Excuse me while my husband and I go fetch something to eat?"

York nodded and gulped.

You pulled and dragged Loki by the elbow, away from the senator, towards the darkened corners of the hall.

"Loki, relax," you whispered, pulling him forward, pressing your red-tipped nail against his cheek to drag his gaze from his prey back to you.

He sucked his teeth. "He was definitely flirting with you," he stated dramatically.

"And?"

"And?" he retorted, dark eyebrows rising. "He's a little man who's been fucking his way up in court. He doesn't deserve your attention."

You huffed. "If I had it your way," you said, "no one in the universe would deserve my attention."

He closed his eyes and sighed, like a child trying to calm himself. "I just..." Then he put his hands on each of your shoulders. "He's just so sneaky and weird and watching him eat you up with eyes made me want to peel that receding hairline off his scalp."

You batted your purse against his chest. "Loki!" you gasped. "How rude!"

He chuckled. "But funny, right?"

You rolled your eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "A little," you muttered.

"Ah ha!" he said with a smile, so delightfully cute and Loki that it made you warm on the side. Heat at your core. "Alright, now let's go converse with someone a little less disgusting," he offered, taking a theatrical step back and offering his hand to you, like a dance.

You rolled your eyes but slid your fingers into his own. He brought your knuckles to his lips and pecked them. "After you, my wife."

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #fluff #loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki fanfic

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missmielyhoran · 1 year

Note

Amore, how do you think Y/N would react to those pics of harry and olivia's yacht? Even though I agreed to the stunt at first, I think I would go crazy and want to kill harry after seeing those pictures all over the place

Oh see would be pissed...

Warning- Angst, argument, accusation of cheating, crying, swearing, mention of pandemic, Olivia Wilde, Grammatical errors, fluff.

Not proof read sorry.

*****

Normally Y/N was a very chill person considering she was a teacher dealing with kids everyday she had a lot of patience.

But everyone has their limits and hers has been running thin for a while. You see it started when Harry got the role of Jack Chambers in movie Don't worry darling. He was happy, excited and so were you, it was a challenging role and that's why he loved it.

The filming started but due to the pandemic it shut down. It was the time when y/n and Flo became good friends. Both of them would cook, bake and try all type of different recipes together and sometimes even Harry would join.

Then the film resumed in few weeks, everyone tested and safe. She always had to keep an eye on the director though, it wasn't first soemone tried to flirt with him. Her boyfriend was the most beautiful man ever and that came with it's disadvantages.

Movie already had enough publicity by having Harry. His fans were going crazy about the role and set pictures.

She knew what the role was and how the plot went, well the originial one ofcourse cause as the filming went you started to see changes. The oh so lovely director decided to add herself in the movie which wasn't in the plot first but what's for you? It was her movie and it wasn't hurting Harry so you let it be.

But then one day the meeting and boy oh boy she wished she never went to that meeting.

You thought it was typical pr meeting called by Olivia and Jeff and to some extent it was but then.

"I think we should make a pr relationship" Mark, Olivia's manager said. Both you and Harry were confused cause Flo was engaged and Harry was in relationship with Y/N so who was it going to be?

"We have discussed it and came up with Harry and Olivia to get into a relationship" Jeff said looking at Harry. It felt like Y/N wasn't even there by the way he was talking.

"She's married Jeff what the fuck?" Harry said angrily.

"We are getting divorced and separated for a month" Olivia shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Doesn't matter. I already have a girlfriend" Harry said as a matter of fact trying to end that conversation right there.

First time since she went there Jeff looked at her, with annoyed expression. Rolling his eyes he sat up straight.

"Harry it will be good for the movie. Your fans love to talk and this will give them reason to talk, beautiful and older. It wilk eat it up" Jeff tried to convince Harry, "Also it wasn't like they know about Y/N anyway" He sat back.

And that was enough for her to run out of the room.

She thought maybe Harry would disagree but no, he agreed. Telling her it was just for show and when the movie is done he will tell everyone about them.

Now here she was months later sitting on their couch going through her private instagram when she saw the pics. Pics of them holding each other a lot closer than she would have liked but that was nothing compared to seeing him kissing her on yacht, the same one they went on the date.

When Harry told Y/N he was going to Italy to record she didn't think she would be there too.

Y/N felt like went through all the stages of and got stuck at Anger. She rarely got angry and mostly calmed herself down but that was unacceptable. She was seething as angry fat tears rolled down her face.

The door to the house opened Harry entering with big smile, hands filled with bags his put down near the door and took off his jacket. "Baby I'm home" He said walking inside only for his smile to disappear and get replaced with concerned frown.

You were sitting on couch, legs to your chest supporting your head as you cried. You lips were bitting red almost on brink of bleeding.

"Baby what happened" He quickly rushed to you sitting down in front of you. He brought his hand up to look at you and check if you have hurted yourself but you fliched and sat back.

Millions of thoughts went through Y/N's in between of Harry getting home and her finding the pictures and seeing him in front of her with concered sad eyes felt like a sick joke.

"Get off" she sat up putting her feet on floor. Harry stood up and sat in the loveseat. His brain realizing what had happened.

"You saw it" he mumbled quietly as if confessing crime.

"Ofcourse I saw it asshole. Was it not what you wanted?" Y/N screamed angrily. She stood up pacing around the room back and forth while Harry sat there like a child getting yelled.

He was feeling guilty a lot guilty. She trusted him with her everything and he broke it and now the love of his life was crying in front of him because of him.

"Baby Jeff said-" "I can't give a flying fuck about what Jeff said. Jeff is not my boyfriend you are" Y/N cut him off. Harry was stunned seeing her curse like that. He never saw you get mad so this was certainly new.

"If you wanted her you should have told me sooner Harry. I would have left, it would have broken my heart but you didn't have to cheat on me and break my trust" She stood there sobbing, her whole body felt weak, she felt like she would faint.

Harry's eyes widened when he realized you weren't mad about pics but you thought he cheated. Oh he was fucked.

"Oh no no. Baby I swear I didn't cheat" Harry quickly ran up to you and sat you down on the couch as you looked weak. He held you close as you sobbed on his tshirt.

"I wod never omg please don't think that" Harry held her tighter as if it woumd convince her.

Y/N felt relief of sort knowing he didn't cheat but still the whole in her heart wasn't filled. She was aching, her whole body, her heart. She was tired of giving, giving and giving there wasn't anything left to give now.

"Harry" She called.

"Yeah babe" He kissed her forehead making her shudder.

"I love you" she looked up at him with wet eyelashes. He smiled softly holding her face watching her melt into him.

"I love you too baby" He said pressing his forehead against his.

"But I can't do this" she said pulling away. Harry looked at her confused but also knowing where this was going.

"I can't see another photos of her with you or anyone as matter of fact. I can't be okay with sharing who I love with someone else" she stood up. Y/N wiped the tears off her face knowing her makeup was probably ruined.

"No no Y/N baby please" Harry begged, "It's just few months the contract will end and then there will be no one else but you and me" He held onto her legs, his face digging into her stomach.

She looked up to control her tears but to no avail. She ran her fingers through his hair and then pushed him back. His eyes were matching hers, red, puffy and filled with tears.

"Please" Harry whispered.

"I'm sorry"

And with that she left.

7 hours later

Harry spent most time crying on the couch where she left him. Holding onto himself, he cried his beart out knowing he was the reason she left.

Then he spent half hour breaking most things and punching hole in wall.

And when the sun went down along with his mood and adrenaline he sat on the kitchen island and drank away his misery.

6 hours later

Harry woke up feeling his body stiff and his head pounding. Be was sleeping on a hard surface that sure wasn't his comfortable bed. Opening his eyes was hard as the lights from windows were hurting his eyes.

"Y/N" He groaned, "Baby please close the drapes" He tried to roll over on his stomach only to fall down on floor. He groaned in pain and sat up slowly. That's when he realized he fell asleep in the kitchen last night with bottle scattered everywhere and the reason he was there was cause of you have left him.

He heard his phone ringing and he groaned not wanting to talk to anyone.

He picked his phone which was on tiled floor beside him. There were multiple miss calls and messages.

15 missed calls from Mum.

5 missed calls from Jeff.

1 missed call from Olivia Wilde.

But none from you. He opened his message thinking you might have texted him but no nothing. Only a single text from Olivia.

Olivia Wilde

Want to go to coffee? I saw a nice cafe near your house :)

He felt like he was going to be sick and he did. He stood up quickly and threw up in kitchen sink. He cleaned his mouth and decied to call his mum.

"Harry Edward Styles" Anne yelled from the other side, "I was worried about you!"

"Mum" He croaked out, "I fucked up"

3 hours later

Y/N was miserable to say the least. Harry was love of her life and now she had lost him just cause she was selfish.

But that wasn't true wanting partner all to herself wasn't selfish so she threw that thought away.

She was at a hotel drowning herself in wine and pity. She was just ending second season of AHS when there was a knock on her door. She did order pizza so she stood up on her wobbly feet and covered herself as much as could in a gown as she didn't have anything to sleep in and opened the door.

"Thanks for this I was dying starving" She chuckled. She looked up and saw the green eyes and that died down.

"What are you doing here?" She asked crossing her arms on her chest.

"Want to talk" He said softly, "Please" He insisted.

Y/N sighed too weak for him and his puppy eyes. She stood aside and let him in locking the door behind.

"These are for you" Harry said giving her favorite blue hydrangeas flower to her. She smiled taking the flowers from him and putting them down on table.

"How did you know I was here?" She finally asked.

"You used our joint account card while paying for this" He shrugged shifting awkwardly. She palmed herself in head for her stupidity.

"That's beside the point baby I just want to say sorry" He said moving closer to her. Y/N looked up seeing sincerity in his eyes.

"I called to Jeff and told him the contract was off, I don't care if they kick me out of movie I just want you with me. Please, I can live without that stupid movie but you, a few hours without you felt like hell" He said. Y/N was bitting her lips so she wouldn't cry cause she didn't want Harry to lose this film he worked hard.

"Harry I-" Sh goes to talk but Harry juat holds her and shakes his head.

"I know but I just want to know that I want you and if you will have my stupid ass back, I assure you I will try not to do something idiotic and hurt you" He pleaded, he was desperate if that point she asked him to get on his knees and beg he would.

"But if you don't want to that's fine. I will not bother you again" He goes to pull from her but she doesn't let him.

"First of all don't even speak over me when I'm trying to speak" she said cocking her hesd to the side, "And second, you're an idiot. A stupid dumbass." Harry forwns at her words.

"But you're my dumbass and I love you a lot so you're lucky" Y/N completes her sentence with smile.

He picks her up pushing his lips on hers, kissing her like a thirsty man finding water in desert. Their lips moved in sync, he ushered her to wrap her legs around him. After a while they pulled apart, heaving for air. Their lips glossy, swollen, stretched in widest smile.

"Might have to make up a bit more though" Y/n said pecking his lips. She squealed as he threw her on the bed.

"Oh I will do the making up just fine"

*****

Let me know what you think. If you want to request more or talk to me do it here♡

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #angst harry #argument #boyfriend harry

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maggotknight · 2 months

Text

posting the bio for my rt here for my own sake. very long. initial template was generously provided by the rt discord server I am in.

Name: Lilith von Valancius

Age: 31 years

Gender/Pronouns: she/her

Height: 5'4" (shorter than average due to huffing forge fumes for the first 13 years of her life)

Conviction: primary; Iconoclast, secondary; Dogmatic

Homeworld: Hive World; Scintilla, Gunmetal City

Origin: Commissar

Triumph: Apex of Briliance

Darkest Hour: Shadow of Torment

Archetype: Officer; Grand Strategist

Voidship: The Siren Song

Favorite color: Green (forest green)

Love Interest: Heinrix van Calox (romantically), Pasqal Haneumann (One sided flirting), Yrliet Lanaevyss (platonically)

Notable Characteristics: Has a cerebral-spinal augmetic at the base of her skull, traveling down to her mid back. Also has an auditory augmetic in her right ear, and a minor noosphereic port behind her left ear.

Her arms are covered in different military tattoos and electoos. Noteably, a worn in electoo of a curling copper dragon, a snarling wolf in sheep's clothing and a mechanicus liturgic tapestry. The latter was given and designed as a gift.

Is never without some form of servo skull, a Millitarum standard combat knife, and two different firearms (minimum).

Exudes tomboy swag 😎

Bio:

An unexpected child of two Asta Millitarum officers, Lilith was dropped off at a mid-hive hostel in Gunmetal City. A younger hive within the Calixis Sector capital world of Scintilla. Much of her younger years were spent avoiding gun fire, scrouning for bullets and hiding from underhive gangs scouting for fresh meat.

During her 10th year of life in the hive, Lilith attempted to pickpocket a man for spare bullets. Only to soon realize she was stealing from an Infernus ganger. The attempt when awry, and she fled into the mid-hive labyrinth of sweltering founderies. Turn after turn, only focusing on escaping her enevitable demise, Lilith slammed into a sealed set of steel doors at the end of an alleyway. Overwhelmed with dread and the realization that there was no where to run, she began pleeding and sobbing at the door. Pounding her grubby fists to the cold metal, Lilith thought, she could almost feel the door reaching out back to her. By some miracle. the heavy door unsealed itself enough for Lilith to squeak into safety. The door, unbeknownst to Lilith, lead to one of the many machine-shrines that are scattered within the volcanic hive.

Alerted to the unauthorized and unscheduled entry, Omniprophet Velt Thannek discovered the cowering Lilith. Thannek deemed the child "machine-touched", and took Lilith under his steel wings. It was explained to the young Lilith that the Omnissiah's eye "favored her", leading to machine spirits reacting to her whims. All it meant to Lilith was that she now has a consistent place to sleep, food to eat, and protection in the form of the large metal men that annoyed the forge workers.

Lilith learned much about the Cult Mechanicus and it's relations with laypeople through Thannek.

An eccentric tech-priest in his own right, the Omniprophet spent most of his spare time composing liturgies for the majesty of the Omnissiah and passing that majesty on to Lilith. Fosterining a love for art and creation within the child.

Solidifying in her the importance of the 6th and 7th Universal laws: to always seek knowledge and comprehension in all things. And to venerate The Omnissiah and The Emperor in equal measure.

In her 13th year of life, representitives of the Adeptus Ministorum took custody of Lilith and sent her to the Schola Proegnium to be educated formally and serve the Imperium as a Commissar. She recieved notably high marks in marksmaship, religious and military studies. She also recieved several watered down dirus flushings due to "willful but unacceptable outbursts." and "unwillingness to forgo vulgarities when speaking."

Upon graduation, Lilith was assigned to a Millitarum regimind on a toxic Death World at the edge of the Jericho Reach She created strong bonds with her fellow gaurdsman. Keeping moral up by playing card games, singing songs and creating combat art of everyday life in the Astra Millitarum. Many of the interpersonal skills learned from observing the Omniprophet Velt came in handy when dealing with the enevitable squabbles had between the Cult Mechanicus and Guardsmen.

A few years into her service, Lilith uncovered a consperacy involving underground experimentation on guardsmen and locals alike. Splicing Tyranid genetic material in order to make more adaptive and effective soldiers. All conducted by the planet's Generator and Colonel of her regiment. This revelation left Lilith venerated, sickened, and scouted by the Ordo Millitarum.

Never one to turn down new opportunities, she took the offer to become an Acolyte for the smaller Ordo of the Inqisition. While she missed the comradere that came with serving as the Emporer's Hammer, Lilith enjoyed the new freedom that came with being an Acolyte. She was frequently paired with Neraph Heirgamus-Theta, a former Xenarite whom was contracted to the Inquisition as a form of repentence. They grew to trust one another and spend most of what little free time they had together. Overall, she enjoyed her time spent investigating and prosecuting the threats within the Astra Millitarum. Even if it was covered in a shrowd of ignorance.

The same shrewd tenacity that got her the position within the Ordo Millitarum would be the same reason she found herself tortured, shot in the back of the head and left for, presumably, dead. She stuck her nose where it, supposedly, did not belong. Invesitaging a series of encrypted data transfers that she wasn't assigned to. A trail that was eerily similar to the conspiracy she uncovered in the Jericho Reach. The exception being, it seemed to lead directly to one of the Interrigators within her Ordo.

Heirgamus-Theta discovered Lilith before her body had become completely cold. Wether it be a defect in his mental processes from prolonged exposure to abberant machine spirits or divine intervention, Theta spared Lilith's life with an extensive neurospinal implant. Both parted ways, going into hiding in different sectors of the galaxy. This was nothing new for Theta, but it was a test of faith for Lilith. Stranded for a year on a feudal Agri-World at the edge of the Calixis Sector, the only thing keeping the disgraced Acolyte from going completely mad was in her fath of The Emporer's grace and divine plan for Humanity. Even those who shamfully fail him such as her.

She was convinced that the shuttle approaching the shed she resided in was the Inquisition. And was still suspicious once boarding the von Valancius voidship, The Siren Song. But, once again, she was never the type to deny the opportunities The Emporer graces her with.

#tag: lilith von valancius #text

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t4tmoreid · 2 years

Note

gimme your favorite cm headcanons

i will celebrate you posting again like a kpop comeback

omg hiiii hehe ok honestly it's been a hot minute since i've thought about cm hcs but:

spencer is a cat dad to the most evil little asshole in the world <3 he's got this white and orange cat that he adopted when he was working on his first PhD cause he thought the company would be nice, and he named it something that's frankly stupid and annoying like Proton or Sagan or something, and this cat is like, objectively a little shit. like, he claws up the furniture, hides under the sofa to swat at spencer's feet when he walks by, pushes his glasses of the counter, eats pages out of any books spencer leaves around, etc etc. and spencer loves him dearly but he is just beefing with this little cat CONSTANTLY. like he's always showing up to work with scratches on his hands and arms, dramatically monologuing and whining about how this little shit has it out for him specifically and how he's quite literally the devil himself in cat form. but then the second someone else chimes in and is like "yeah your cat is kind of an asshole man" spencer's just like i'm sorry what did you say to me. watch your mouth dude that's my fucking cat and i love him more than anything. fuck you.

speaking of cats, hotch is like, a cat magnet for a reason none of them can quite grasp. like he's really more of a dog person, never been that much of a cat lover if he's being honest, but any time he's over at spencer's or emily's their cats just will not leave him alone. and because the universe has a sense of humour, hotch is pretty much the only person who spencer's cat will cuddle with. like the first time spencer has the team over to his place, he's barely gotten the words out to warn them to be careful around his little demon spawn before he turns around to see his cat up in hotch's lap, purring obnoxiously looking for pets. traitor.

derek teases spencer mercilessly for his nerdy glasses, but he literally has reading glasses himself, he's just so far into it at this point that he'd rather die than admit it. he gives himself headaches constantly because he refuses to wear them and give spencer the satisfaction.

emily and derek get like, really extremely competitive over video games. you'd think it would be penny cause she's really the gamer among them, but when mario kart or just dance comes out derek and emily become people that they're honestly not proud of. and like the trash talk that comes out is quite frankly bizarre, so penelope prefers to just sit back with her wine and watch them bicker and sabotage one another like bratty siblings.

derek is always making mixtapes for spencer <3 i know i have a post about this somewhere, but like at least once a week derek is carefully curating a new collection of songs to burn onto a cd that he says spencer just has to listen to - because you're so uncultured about music it's honestly unacceptable spence - it's not at all because he has a stupid little crush that he can't quite seem to kick and he has no idea how the hell he's supposed to approach that when it's his stupid, awkward, gangly, endlessly endearing close friend doctor reid, and music is like the one thing he can fall back on as a way to get his feelings out so he doesn't, like, explode.

can i say homophobic jj. LOL like will people get mad at me if i say that. anyway jj is the girl who brags about having gay friends and tags along to the gay bar with penny emily spencer and derek cause she doesn't want to be left out and then gets grossed out when a woman tries to flirt with her SORRY ok i'm sorry. god.

whenever things are especially busy at the unit (or worse than usual at home) hotch tends to stays really late. penelope knows this, and she also knows that when hotch holes away in his office pouring over paperwork for hours and hours after everyone else has long since gone home, he very rarely takes the time to remember to get something to eat. so penelope has taken to bringing in an extra serving of whatever she takes for lunch, whether it's an extra sandwich or a second tupperware container of leftover pasta, and before she heads home she always comes up with some excuse to give it to hotch. she tells him she went out to lunch with derek so she didn't end up needing it, or she was half asleep this morning when she'd packed it and she'd made a second sandwich without thinking, and honestly hotch you might as well take it cause if you don't it's just gonna go in the garbage anyway and it's not good to waste food, hotch, there are people who are starving. and he always concedes, eventually, and accepts her food. she always looks so pleased with herself, like she's pulled the wool over his eyes, and hotch's throat kinda feels tight with the knowledge that someone cares enough to make sure he eats when he stays late, and also penelope is like a really good cook, so there's that, too.

when spencer has his hair grown out longer he lets penelope use him as a model to teach derek how to braid. derek has tried to braid penelope's hair before, with little success, and it's so much easier to show him on somebody else, but no matter how much she'd begged emily had refused to give in, so spencer it was. and honestly spencer thinks it's kinda nice, the feeling of somebody's fingers playing with his hair. especially when they're penelopes fingers, which move gently and lightly and don't pull too hard, and he comes out of it with a pretty french braid that has pieces falling out in the front because if they're being totally honestly his hair isn't quite long enough for this yet. derek is sort of less gentle when it's his turn to try, more prone to accidentally pulling so hard it makes spencer's whole fucking scalp tingle, but it's still nice to be sitting cross legged on the floor between derek's knees with derek's hands in his hair, so spencer only complains a little bit.

penelope keeps one of those "word of the day" tearaway calendars on her desk, and every so often she throws some word like "mellifluous" into conversation out of nowhere and everybody is just like 😐

#criminal minds is a show about copaganda and serial killers and murder and i'm like tee hee what if they braided each others hair like #little kids at a slumber party <3 #i tried to think of something for rossi but honestly i don't care enough about him to headcanon anything LOL #but thank you for asking this i loveeeee talking about this stuff <33 #ask #weird-hoodie-kid #anti jj #<- just in case LMAO sorry #hcs #ap

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wild-houseplant · 1 year

Text

Have Warden, Will Travel- Chapter 26

I realise I just posted the last chapter a few hours ago, but idk. A bitch got busy and got the next one out. Stranger things have happened, especially when... drumroll... Zevran FINALLY gets off his numberplate and has The Talk with Rhodri. Link to AO3 here, and the rest is under the cut! My recommendation for fluid intake remains :D :D

Zevran would have paid good money to be one of the Dalish as the party drew up, red in the face and drenched in sweat and, in Rhodri’s case, running with the fellow strapped to her like an infant in a sling. It was delightful enough to spectate from the other side, but the dramatic levels of bafflement on the part of the clan was palpable, and Zevran ate it up with a spoon.

When the initial shock had subsided, the act was, quite predictably, well-received by the clan, not least because the man had somehow survived the hour-and-a-half’s run back. Whatever magic Rhodri had been intermittently poking the poor soul with must have worked. Zathrian thanked them, and the onlookers’ gazes had softened since the last encounter.

Except for the curiosity with which they regarded Zevran and his tattoos. Curiosity and some kind of pity. Did they look at all city elves like this? The discomfort settled under his skin, and when Rhodri excused herself to shamble back to camp, he left with her.

In their own camp, things were easier, somehow. Oh, there were plenty of looks from Alistair and the others, too, but at least they weren’t so weighted. Dislike of an assassin was a reasonable thing. Mistrust of him because he flirted with anything that had a pulse was also merited, no doubt. Scrutiny from humans and any other non-elves didn’t smart quite the way scrutiny from the Dalish did. As though Zevran weren’t aware he wasn’t one of them.

Rhodri never looked at him like that. She smiled at him and meant it, and it wasn’t laced with pity or exclusion. What, precisely, it was laced with remained to be seen in its entirety. Hopefully enormous reserves of untapped lust.

And if he would get on with it and make a move on her, he would find out. He would have to do it soon; the deadline Zevran had set for himself was one day away, and he wasn’t keen on failing to meet expectations.

It would have to wait for at least a little while, though. Upon returning to the camp, an exhausted Rhodri curled up near where Zevran sat in front of the fire. Leliana and Alistair had a stew bubbling, and the campfire was crackling gently.

“Need a little rest before I can eat,” Rhodri mumbled, seemingly to no-one in particular, and for all intents and purposes looked to be asleep before anyone could say anything about it. Her robe had been put back on once the man, Deygan, had been handed over to Zathrian, but it lay askew on her now, and one of her legs was uncovered. Without thinking, Zevran carefully took the corner of her robe and draped it over the exposed limb, and made a point of not acknowledging Leliana’s smug smile as he took a stick and fruitlessly poked at the fire.

Tonight was the night. It had to be, and despite the hours he had spent alone during his watch shift, Zevran had still failed to decide on how he would carry out his maximal flirtation. Gifts were unacceptable. Compliments were futile. She didn’t care for offences to modesty. At this rate, it was looking like he would have to simply hire Leliana to serenade her on his behalf. Oh, agony.

He was pulled from his bout of woebegone musings (how spoiled he was that this was his most pressing issue) by unmistakable Rhodri-esque footfalls coming from behind, and arranged his body into the most acceptably sensual position he could manage. He glanced over his shoulder and his stomach gave an unwanted jitter as he saw her walking toward him.

She was carrying a steaming cup, smiling warmly at him and looking every bit the newly-awoken person. He chewed the inside of his cheek; she would have been a tactile delight at that moment, his cool fingers warming themselves on her toasty, blushed cheeks or running through the hair that hung loose and gleamed like obsidian in the moonlight.

“Hmm!” He waggled his brows as Rhodri sat down beside him. “A welcome sight indeed! Is it my birthday today?”

Rhodri grinned. “Hello, hello. I made tea for you,” she passed him the cup. “And if it is your birthday, it’s perfect timing, because I have something for you.”

“For me?” he bit his lip. “Oh, my, I am spoiled. Let me guess… is it a Grey Warden with a fine set of eyes?”

“Hah. People make for poor gifts,” she chuckled and shook her head. “Especially Grey Wardens. Haven’t you seen how often we need to be fed?”

He conceded her point with a snicker and nodded. “Just so. Tell me, what is the occasion? You know if you want something of me, you need only ask.” He bit his lip, pleased with the way things were effortlessly going in the right direction, and spoke in a low voice, “You’ll find I am more than willing, without any need for payment.”

Rhodri blinked. Of course she did. He kept the wicked smile in place anyway; perhaps she was simply slow to catch on.

“There… ah…” she frowned softly. “There is no occasion. And I wouldn’t really be allowed to say I was giving you something if I expected something in return. It’d be more like swapping then. No, this is just a gift. A regular gift.” Rhodri peered at him worriedly. “It’s normal, I promise.”

Shame washed through him, making his innards– and very nearly his exterior– cringe. He laughed hollowly.

“Forgive me, I am unused to this kind of thing.” He paused and added, “No-one has ever simply given me a gift before, you see. It is not the done thing in the Crows.”

Her eyebrows rose, and the mortification soaked in a little deeper. “Didn’t you have birthday presents in the brothel? Even something small, like an orange, or a special story?”

He laughed again, from a rather more bitter place this time. “I do not know my birthday. Whores and their children are not counted in the nation’s registry, and there is no point in guessing it when it is not worth noticing.”

Rhodri’s face fell. “But it is worth noticing,” she insisted softly. “You deserve to have a special day. Once we’re in Minrathous, you’ll get birthday and Satinalia presents, and just-because presents throughout the year. Go ahead, Zev, pick a birthdate.”

Zevran, too astonished not to, let out a long ‘ha.’ “There are many to choose from...”

“You can share mine if you like,” she brightened. “We could have a joint birthday party and everything. I’m born on the first of Molioris.”

“Molioris–? Ah, Bloomingtide. So you are born on Summerday, are you, my dear Warden? An excellent choice, very easy to remember.”

“Thank you, I picked it myself, so my mother says.” She winked and laughed. “The parties are always enormous, because everyone loves celebrating Summerday when someone else is paying. Lots of music, lots of dancing–” she waggled her brows (waggled them!) and added, “and plenty of presents for you, guaranteed. One of the best days for a party.”

It was tempting to say yes. And it occurred to Zevran, mercifully before any true concern could begin to eat him alive, that it was likely tempting because it was the sensible thing to do. After all, had the Crows not taught him to seize on opportunities that would benefit him? If it was a sin to be pleased that things had gone well, he could no doubt summon up some dreadful memory to taint it a little and keep the enjoyment at acceptable levels.

But really. Only a fool would have said no to the offer, and Zevran was no fool. He smiled, perhaps a little more broadly than planned, and nodded. “In which case, I am now a Summerday baby.”

Rhodri beamed. Bounced a little where she sat. “Oh… great! Fantastic! Right, well, let me give you your present, then, before I forget myself altogether.” She turned away and rummaged– whether it was in the Robe Void or her satchel was unclear– and reappeared with–

“Gloves!” Zevran blinked away his bafflement. It was a curious gift, considering she had only recently supplied him with brand-new gloves. “My word, I am spoiled for choice, between these and my other gloves.”

“Turn them over,” she said gently. “Look closely.”

"Oh, believe me, I intend to--" he stopped as he glanced down and saw the intricate embroidery on the gloves, and the air caught in his throat a moment. “Oh, my.”

He held them up and examined them in the moonlight. A basic pattern of leaves and furling roots trailed up the deerskin exterior, and he recognised it immediately. "These are Dalish, are they not? Much like my mother’s.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You remembered my story.”

“Yes,” Rhodri nodded. “I always pay close attention when you talk to me. I bought them from Master Varathorn earlier this afternoon.”

“The leather was less thick, and it had more embroidery,” he pondered aloud before quickly adding, “but these are very close! And quite handsome!"

"Oh, I didn't imagine they'd be identical to your mother's," Rhodri said quickly, holding up her hands. "I didn’t intend to replace them or anything like that. More so that you… I don’t know…" she shrugged in a jerky fashion, "so you at least had something to think of her with."

Zevran’s cheeks ached from smiling. He threw his gloves off, pulling the Dalish ones on and flexing his fingers. They sat comfortably, so supple and flexible, and the soft fur interior began warming his hands straight away.

"A perfect fit, my Warden," he purred.

The Warden beamed like she’d been the one given the gift. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pushing off with her foot to rock herself. Zevran bit his lip in a half-smile and shifted his newly-gloved hands to admire his gift and the giver all at once.

She had barely fallen into her new rhythm before she froze mid-sway. Her fingers tightened around her knees, foot replacing on the ground.

“Ah. Forgive me,” she mumbled, eyes dropping to the ground. “I know I’m not meant to. I just– it just happens sometimes, before I even realise I’m doing it.”

Zevran shuffled closer and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Mm? Why would you apologise for something like that, my lovely Grey Warden?”

“What? I– well, It’s offensive.”

“Hmm? Offensive to who?”

“… Everybody.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Everybody?”

Rhodri gave a bleak, bitter scoff that damn near stole the throat out of him. “Come on, Zev,” she said with a razorblade laugh. “Do you think I don’t see the way people look at me? The way they stare?”

Zevran swallowed, suddenly feeling terribly exposed. He pulled on a sultry smile, praying his wits would guide them into happier topics of conversation.

“Well, I do stare at you, it’s true,” he purred. “Guilty as charged.”

His belly dropped as her face fell. She looked away and nodded, her voice down to a mumble now. “I know you do.”

“Ah, but–” he began quickly, anxiously even. He paused and cleared his throat, forcing languor, “My dear Grey Warden, you and I both know you are very beautiful. Who could blame me for drinking you in from time to time? Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable I will stop.”

Rhodri raised an eyebrow at him. “You stare at me differently, though. Alistair is beautiful, too. So are Morrigan and Leliana. You don’t look at them the same way as you do me.”

“Ah, my dear!” he trilled, only partly because his belly was jittering roughly enough to shake a vibrato into him. “Can I not have my preferences? Is it so unthinkable that I find you much, much more attractive than I do them?”

He decided the discomfort had been worth it as the doubt evaporated from Rhodri’s expression. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Well now, that’s a fair point. I am very beautiful, it’s true, and we like what we like.” She looked at him and nodded firmly. “No, that’s very reasonable.”

Point: missed. Still, at least that stomach-turning hurt face was gone. He smiled.

“Good. In any case, you might wish to reconsider your stance on moving your body.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We are not like these uptight Fereldans, my dear Warden. We are Northerners! Passionate! Expressing ourselves is in our blood!”

Rhodri shrugged, that sad look creeping back in. “Not like this,” she said hollowly.

Zevran shrugged back with a flourish. “Perhaps, but it would be boring if we all went about it the same way. I happen to find your way to be very enjoyable. It isn’t often people are so open with me, and it’s most refreshing.” He caught her eye and winked as obviously as he could manage, adding in a purr, “Charming, too.”

Her breath snagged. Loudly.

Loud enough, he thanked the Maker, to cover the swell in his own chest from watching her face soften. A blush was staining her cheeks the colour of wine, and in the process evaporating all memory of her months-long oblivion to his advances. At last, at long last, the copper had dropped.

Zevran shuffled a little closer, steadying his enthusiasm with a careful breath. “I’ve a question for you, my Warden, if I may.”

Rhodri shook her head like she was trying to physically force her expression off her face. “Ah! Yes.” She nodded. “Of course, yes. You can ask me anything. Please, go ahead.”

He bit his lip and smiled. “Tell me, Rhodri, are you aware that you’re blushing?”

Her eyes widened. Looked around. She touched her cheek briefly and glanced at her fingers as if to check for evidence.

“I…” she swallowed and spoke slowly. “I… couldn’t say with any certainty since I can’t see my face, but I feel my cheeks burning. If– ah… if you told me they were red, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

His smile broadened. “They are quite red, yes.”

Rhodri gulped again and looked out at something behind him. “I believe you.”

Zevran shuffled forward a little. “Did I make you blush, lovely Rhodri?”

Her cheeks darkened to scarlet before she could clear her throat and answer, “Yes.”

He waited to catch her eye before he spoke again, keeping his voice to a low, warm purr. “Do you like it when I make you blush, mi sol?”

“I– ah…” Rhodri’s eyes darted around again. She cleared her throat, “Why are you asking these questions, Zev?”

Zevran chuckled before the nerves could make him do something much more foolish and opted for the bluntness he really should have employed months ago.

“Well, my Grey Warden,” he said evenly, “the truth is that I happen to fancy you. A great deal, in fact.” He gestured at the flare of colour spilling into the rest of her face now, “And I get the impression that the interest might be mutual. Would I be correct?”

No verbalised answer came, but it was unnecessary. Zevran knew what a person caught out looked like, and Rhodri, with her wide eyes and sudden lack of breathing, was unmistakably one of those.

He smiled and pressed on. “If I am, perhaps it would be well to say that I am more than open to us getting closer. Getting… entangled with each other, if you will.” Zevran flickered his eyebrows once. “What say you, my dear Warden? Does it take your fancy?”

Silence held for a few beats as Rhodri shifted her gaze onto Zevran, studying his face for Maker-knew-what. He kept his head tilted at an open, sultry angle that invited her to study further down, too, if she wished it.

It wasn’t until the pause was growing pregnant that she met his eyes. Bright and inquiring, almost white with the stark moonlight bouncing off them. Fixed on him. Her brows drew ever so slightly.

“I… don’t think that would be fair on you, Zev,” Rhodri finally said.

An astonished ‘Eh?’ fell out of Zevran before he could stop it. He excused himself and chuckled a little. “I am not sure what you mean, my dear.”

“You would be at a disadvantage if we did this,” she said simply. “It’s difficult enough as it is.”

He laughed again, throwing a quick prayer heavenward that it wouldn’t become so hysterically funny that this all went to the Void in a handbasket. “Lovely Rhodri, I live a charmed life at your side! Whatever do you mean?” He held up a hand and counted off his fingers. “You treat me like everyone else, share your food, make me tea in the mornings, even! I have a salary!” He paused to permit the chuckle he couldn’t quite restrain. Him, with a salary!

“And on top of all that, you have invited me to live in your estate in Minrathous and do as I please for the rest of my days! And protect me from the Crows–”

“Yes, exactly,” Rhodri cut him off there, nodding solemnly.

“‘... Exactly?’ I do not quite know where the difficulty starts, truthfully. And certainly, if we were to grow closer, I would think there is even less difficulty. Such arrangements tend to meet needs, no?” He winked. “And let me assure you, my dear, that your needs would be more than adequately met if you put yourself in my clever hands.”

His flirtation fell flat before the solicitous look she was giving him. “You said it yourself, Zev. I protect you from the Crows. I’m the only thing keeping them from you. There is a much greater power imbalance between us than, say, me and Alistair, or me and Morrigan.” She peered at him curiously. “Did you never notice how I won’t touch you unless I ask first, or unless it’s an emergency?”

Why Zevran looked down at his hands was beyond him. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t noticed that Rhodri was careful around him, but had it not been Tevinter manners, sharpened for a fellow Northerner? Fear, perhaps? There was something so jarring about it all that there didn’t seem to be anywhere else to look. All the warmth, all the rapport, and she had made a point of keeping him at arm’s length the entire time, for his own sake.

“You see,” Rhodri continued, “you rely on me for safety, and don’t even have the option of leaving if I were to behave objectionably.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, relieved that he had not been asked to speak sooner. “You have a point. Though usually, the people who plan to behave objectionably would not be so concerned about such things. Am I wrong? Do you have plans to shatter my kneecaps if I do not do as you ask of me?”

She gasped. “Of course not! I’d– I’d never–”

“Then surely there is no issue,” he chuckled. “We are adults who can consent, and if we both do, what is there to stop us from having a little fun?”

“What stops us is the fact that you've spent your life forced to suppress your own wants and needs to meet the whims of others,” Rhodri pressed. “I was listening when we took watches together and you told me about life in the Crows. You had no say over your own body. If we went this way and I…” she hummed a moment. “Ah! Let’s say I asked if you wanted sex. Given the life you’ve lived, and knowing that I have the power to make your life miserable, even if I wouldn’t dream of it… how would I know that if you said ‘yes’, it was because you wanted it? How would I know that you felt you could say ‘no’ to me without consequence?”

Zevran raised his eyebrows. “I have never lied to you, Rhodri, and I have no burning urge to start, either.”

"Ah?" Rhodri let out a disbelieving laugh. “Lying to me is the least egregious part of all that. Forget about that! You’d be lying to yourself, and putting yourself through the same thing the Crows forced you to, because you thought you needed to please me.” She shuddered. “Horrifere. The thought makes my skin crawl.”

Momentarily at a loss for words, Zevran made an ‘ah’ to buy himself some more time. And then, when nothing came, he made another.

“You see, don’t you, why this topic cannot be entertained?” Rhodri asked, apparently under the impression they were both in agreement now.

“... I will admit that I did not consider the issue at length,” Zevran conceded, “if at all, really, but had I believed you would make a sex slave of me at the first opportunity, I would not have offered. My offer still remains.” He sighed. “Truly, Rhodri, I think that if we can only have this conversation when we hold equal power, the chance to discuss it may never come.”

She nodded heavily. “Yes, exactly. Short of a miracle, this subject isn’t one we can broach.”

Zevran’s stomach started to fall. “But you know,” he pressed, “life is not so simple as that. No two people share equal power across the board. Even if I were a Magister, we would not be the same.” He shifted forward. “And so far, this conversation has only been about my interests. What of you, hmm? What do you want?”

Rhodri shook her head firmly. “Whether I want this or not is of no importance, pretiotus, and I will not answer that. Your safety and freedom take priority, and I will not let anyone, or anything, get in the way of those. Especially not myself.”

A thud registered in the lower half of Zevran’s gut– no doubt his stomach finally landing. A heaviness crept into his shoulders and neck, dragging his head and body down. He caught sight of the gloves on his hands, delicate and beautiful and given so sweetly, and looked somewhere, anywhere else.

“Well then,” he said after a moment. “I suppose I shall have to be optimistic and keep an eye out for that miracle, no?” An acute pang registered as clever words began to run dry; he rose to his feet. “In any case, I should leave you to your shift before I talk your ear off.” With a nod, he turned and made his way towards his tent.

“Zev?”

Zevran turned around, far too quickly for his liking. His chest ached a little. “Hmm?”

Rhodri fixed him with another one of those pleading looks, and it wasn’t helping matters. “Do something for me, pretiotus,” she said gently.

“Of course.” He pulled his mouth into a smile. “Name your wish.”

“Tell me if you think of anything I can do to even things out between us.” The flicker of hope must have shown up on his face, because she held up her hands quickly, adding, “I don’t say this to get into bed with you, but as someone who cares about you. I want for you to have the freedom to live life on your own terms. It’s your right.”

“... Ah,” he said. It seemed to be all he was capable of saying at this point.

“I’ll think on it, too,” she nodded fervently. “I will. If there’s anything I can do to put power back in your hands, then mark my words, it will happen.” Rhodri bent down until they were eye-level and nodded again. “I will always try for you, Zev. Believe it.”

Zevran swallowed the huge unease her words brought, but this time it wouldn’t go away. His body had apparently decided on its own that this was all the discomfort he could stand for one night.

He chuckled. “You are a good friend to me, Rhodri. See you in the morning, no?”

Rhodri’s eyes widened. She looked like Satinalia had come early. “You’ve…” her fingers wrung themselves roughly. “You’ve never called me a friend before.” She bit her lip and smiled at her feet, nodding her head. “I’m so proud to be your friend.”

It was a strange thing to have a chest that was swelling in one part and shrivelling in the other. Unpleasant, really. Zevran preferred to have his emotions one at a time, and his preferences were notably not being observed by any part of his mind at that moment.

He smiled anyway, and let the weaker part of him drink in the tender grin he was getting back. “Likewise, my dear.”

His words finally spent, he made another wave and made a beeline for his tent, hoping against hope that sleep wouldn’t be as elusive as it was looking to be.

#Have Warden Will Travel #HWWT #In which Zevran finally puts the moves on Rhodri #spoiler: it does not go well #See you with a plot twist in like. 75000 words

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wkemeup · 3 years

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Sunrise (4)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: symptoms of depression, PTSD, anxiety, some really sweet moments to balance it out, more book recs 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“You’re staring at the doors again, sweetie.”

Chin resting on your hands, arms folded out on the countertop of the library’s front desk, you tore your eyes away from the entrance to find Mrs. Jefferson peering over at you from over the bridge of her glasses. She smirked as she returned to her book, knowing she’d caught you in the act.

“Have patience,” she said simply.

“Book club is tomorrow and—” you sighed, a heaviness returning to your body as you slumped back against the counter, stare drifting back to the doors at the entrance. The sun was beaming outside, reflecting in beautiful rays as it illuminated the walkway and touched over old oak and the colorful bindings of novels.

You frowned. “I really thought he was going to come.”

“This James Barnes... he’s a soldier, yes? Like my boy?”

You nodded, disappointment burning like a lump in your throat, though you swallowed it back. “A Sergeant. Sam said he came home a little under a year ago.”

“Then he’ll come,” Mrs. Jefferson pressed confidently, sliding her glasses up her nose, the chain of purple beads clicking against the gem stones on her sweater. “Boys like that don’t break their word. Even if he is a bit of a hesitant one.”

You knew what she meant by that. Hesitant.

No one liked to talk about the dangers of a soldier post-war. It was uncomfortable; the idea that they could still be fighting a battle long beyond the absence of a weapon in their hands and the threat of present danger. Heroes weren’t supposed to have chinks in their armor. They weren’t supposed to crumble and break under the weight of what happened beyond borders and the guilt they carried.

They were supposed to be strong; a symbol of a great country and a willing tribute to place upon a pedestal. It was unacceptable to be a burden, unacceptable to do anything other than seamlessly integrate back into a society that they never really knew to begin with.

It was all a farce; a rigged game set to line the pockets of the rich and exploit everyone else in its path – sent off to fight for a cause no one really understood or believed in. It left behind good men and women to the rubble; Bucky Barnes among them.

Sam hadn’t told you much about Bucky before you met him, but you knew enough to tell that it was a struggle to get him to leave the apartment. He was isolated and quiet and hardly recognizable from the man you’d seen in photos. Only, it wasn’t the lack of his left arm that drew your attention when you first saw him, but the lingering sadness in his eyes.

Sam had a picture hanging in the office that often pulled you in. Bucky stood on his left side, smiling so wide it left lines on his face. He was bright, light as a feather, only weighed down by Steve’s arm slung around his shoulders. You wondered if the man in the photo would have flirted shamelessly with you, if he’d have corny pickup lines or offer to take you dancing. He looked like the sort of man who had girls chasing his tail, a line of heartbreak in his wake. He was beautiful.

It was strange to see him like that, comparing him to the man he was today. Now, it was like a cloud lingered over his head, draining the color from his skin and chipping away at his soul until it dimmed and crumbled and faded away.

But you’d seen glimpses of the man in the photo. He was still beautiful; a little hurt and dragging his feet, but beautiful. His smile wasn’t quite as wide and the cloud was still present, but there was a peak of sunshine peering through. A single ray puncturing over stormy skies, but it was something. He’d laughed and teased and it was more than Sam had known him to do in months. You were determined to see the sun touch his skin again. If only he’d let you guide him there.

“I’m going to go restock on the second level,” you conceded, pushing yourself up from the counter and sauntering over to the cart lined heavy with books.

“Alright sweetie. I’ll be sure to page you when your Sergeant shows up.”

You felt a heat burning in your face at the very idea of ‘your Sergeant’. Mrs. Jefferson chuckled to herself, eyes still down on her book. She waved you off, not giving you a chance to object, even if you could string together a coherent sentence.

***

Bucky couldn’t get out of bed.

He’d been in this predicament hundreds of times before; staring up at the ceiling, wasting the days away as the curtains blocked the light and shielded him from the reminder of another sun daring to rise beyond his window. His energy would be drained and his willingness to so much as brush his teeth was obsolete. He’d known what it felt like to not be able to get out of bed.

This was different.

He had somewhere to be. He actually wanted to get up. He really fucking wanted to.

But the pain in his arm had flared to one of the worst episodes he’d had in months and it rendered him useless; the arm that was both there and not there. He could feel his left hand curl to a fist, could feel the itch on his palm, but when he tried to scratch it, he was only met with thin air, his right hand sinking to the mattress in search of the sensation that didn’t exist.

It was infuriating.

The nerve endings in his shoulder were going haywire. It felt like his arm was being ripped from his body and it took nearly all the energy he had not to let it consume him. He’d even gone as far to bite off a piece of his cheek in an effort to suppress the lump in his throat.

Sam would have frowned at that, spewed him some bullshit about how crying can be therapeutic and Steve would nod his head annoyingly in agreement, but Bucky was tougher than that. He had to be tougher than that. If he allowed himself to unlatch that gate, it would consume him whole. He’d drown.

Hinges squeaked at the front entrance as the door swung open and a pair of heavy footsteps came rushing into the apartment.

“I’m coming, buddy! Hold on!” Sam called, the plastic swish of the grocery bag handing off his arms dropping to the floor. Bucky tried to concentrate on the sound of running water, the bottle of pills shaking in the small orange bottle, and not on the pain threatening to tear him in half.

The door to his bedroom flung open and Sam rushed in with a glass of water and his fist closed around two red capsules. He paused in the frame, a frown pushing down at his mouth, and Bucky could only imagine what he looked like; disheveled, sweating, laying in day old clothes and muddled sheets. His right hand was shaking.

“Alright, help me out, Barnes,” Sam said, setting the glass down on the bedside table. He placed a steady hand on Bucky’s back to help push himself upright. Bucky swung his legs off the side of the bed, finding his balance before Sam placed the pills in his hand.

Bucky threw them back into his mouth, holding his hand out for the glass of water that would come next. It landed in his grip and he gulped down the medication. There was no instant relief with pain like this, but the knowledge it would soon wear off to something manageable was enough.

“Thanks,” he mumbled out, voice tense as he struggled to find it.

“Insurance companies are assholes,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head, though he patted Bucky on the knee. “Cutting off coverage for a fucking vet with no warning like that? Can’t believe you’ve been without this stuff for almost a week. It’s messed up.”

Bucky had come to expect it. He knew something had to go wrong eventually with how things were starting to turn around. He’d actually been looking forward to seeing you at the library and almost went that next day if it wasn’t for the sudden attack on his own body. He'd tried to deal with it on his own, thinking he might sleep it off, but then it became unbearable. Insurance wouldn’t budge and he didn’t have the energy to argue on the phone with them all day. Thankfully, Sam did.

Except now it was a day before the next book club meeting and Bucky didn’t know how he was supposed to face you. Part of him wondered if you'd be disappointed, if maybe you’d steal a glance over the doors and hope that it was him walking through, only to be let down as each day passed by. The other half wondered if you’d care at all.

But he’d seen the way you’d smiled at him, how you’d lit up at the idea of him stopping by.

You’d care.

He wasn’t sure if that hurt worse, seeing as he never showed up.

“You could still go.”

Bucky sighed at Sam’s suggestion. He wasn’t teasing him, wasn’t wearing that shit-eating grin. He was being serious. It was the kind of look that reminded Bucky that under it all, Sam was one of his closest friends, one of the few that stuck around when everything went to shit.

“She’ll want to see you,” Sam continued, nudging Bucky’s side with a soft smile, but Bucky shook his head, unconvinced.

“What am I supposed to say to her, Sam?” Bucky groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “’Sorry I stood you up, but I felt like my hand was being sawed off on an arm I don’t even fucking have?’”

“Why not?” Sam shrugged, earning a glare in response he let roll off his shoulders with ease. “She’d understand, Buck. She knows what comes with the territory here. She’s a lot more familiar with this stuff than you think.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a pang of jealousy burning hot in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you should ask her why she got involved with the VA in the first place.”

Bucky pressed his lips to a thin line, a silence coming over them. That was an immensely personal question; one akin to someone asking him how he’d lost his arm. He wasn’t sure that was an answer you’d be willing to share.

Sam exhaled a heavy breath, patting Bucky three times on the knee before he stood up. “Let the meds kick in, but promise you’ll try to go, alright?”

Bucky stared up at Sam for a moment before he conceded with a short nod. The pain in his shoulder was starting to lessen, at least. It didn’t feel like his arm was being torn from his body or a knife was plunging into a part of him that didn’t exist anymore. It would likely get back to a place he could deal with within the hour.

“I promise,” Bucky said. “I’ll go.”

***

A brush of warm air filtered in through the vents as Bucky stepped inside the library. It was bigger than he remembered with large stain glass windows on the outer walls, filtering in a colorful sunlight onto the aisles upon aisles of books. At the center, just ahead of the entrance, was a reception desk. Bucky exhaled a tense breath in an attempt to rid himself from the nerves rattling in his veins and made his way to the woman sitting behind the counter.

She was reading quietly in her seat, a pair of glasses on a beaded chain perched at the very tip of her nose. She didn’t look up in his direction until he stood at the edge of the desk, and only then, she caught glance of him over the top of her glasses before a smile rose on her lips.

“Can I help you, young man?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to meet someone. She, uh, works here. Y/n.”

The woman nodded. She wore the kind of smile on her face Bucky was familiar with. He’d seen it in Sam about a dozen times in the last week; the kind of smile that said ‘I was right.’

“You must be Sergeant Barnes,” she said as she picked up the radio from the desk.

Bucky nodded quickly, glancing over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he felt jittery. He tried not to let the fact that you’d clearly talked to this woman about him throw him completely off his game. If he even had game to begin with…

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied with an even tone. She smirked.

“Y/n,” she called into the radio, “you have a guest at the front desk.”

The woman held up a finger to him though it trembled with age, signaling for him to wait a moment. Bucky nodded, tucking his hand into his pocket as he silently made his way over to the series of chairs lined along the wall.

He gripped his fist tight inside his pocket, trying to ignore the pulsing in his shoulder. It had lessened considerably since Sam brought him his meds, but it hadn’t gone away completely. Showering had taken longer than usual and it took him nearly four minutes just to pull a shirt over his head. His army jacket hung over his shoulders, wrapped in a protective layer, loose sleeve at his side.

“If you’re pulling my chain, Mrs. Jefferson…”

Bucky perked up at the sound of your voice. You were crossing the main entrance from the staircase, half jogging to the counter where the woman, Mrs. Jefferson, was grinning to herself from behind her book.

You draped over the counter, toes barely keeping hold on the tile floors as you attempted to reach for her book, but she snatched it from your grasp just in time. You huffed, sinking back down the floor.

“It’s not funny!” you whined and Bucky almost felt a little guilty for not making his presence known yet, but you were just so cute the way you slumped your shoulders and glanced back at the entrance.

Mrs. Jefferson pointed over to where Bucky had slowly begun to make his way towards you, but you folded your arms over your chest. Bucky cleared his throat when he stood a few paces off your shoulder, but you didn’t seem to hear him.

Mrs. Jefferson caught Bucky’s eye before she turned her attention back to you. “Sweetie, he’s—”

“He’s not coming, okay?” you groaned and Bucky felt a stone drop into his stomach. “I—I thought he would but… I was wrong.”

Bucky parted his lips to speak but suddenly his throat was dry. Mrs. Jefferson’s smile started to fade. Clearly, Bucky wasn’t the only one who heard the disappointment in your voice, the sliver of heartbreak, too. He tried to speak, to call your name, to say something, but he was marbled stone.

“I’m going back to work.”

There wasn’t time to pull his words together before you slammed head first into Bucky’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces, surprised, and you gasped, hands flying to your mouth.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t—” You stilled, taking in who was standing in front of you. “Bucky?”

He pressed out a smile, though his ears were burning red. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No! N-no, you’re totally fine! I didn’t—I didn’t think you were—” You blinked a few times before your eyes darted back at Mrs. Jefferson who only smirked from behind her book, adjusting the glasses on the tip of her nose. You turned back to Bucky, brushing out the hem of your skirt and wrapping the thick layer of a lavender colored cardigan tightly around your waist, almost like a blanket.

You exhaled a nervous breath, a nervous smile lifting into your cheeks. “I’m happy you came.”

“It would have been sooner, I swear,” Bucky replied quickly, watching helplessly as your smile brightened into a laugh. “But, um, my uh—”

He chewed on the edge of his lip. Was he really going to tell you what kept him held up in his room for days on end? Would it bitter the sweet way you looked at him to know that he was a mess under a poorly constructed surface, tied together with string and scotch tape? But you were looking at him so fondly, he wondered if there was anything he could say that could take that away.

“My arm,” he admitted, waiting for a flash of disgust on your face that never came. You softened a bit, but your eyes never left his. He cleared his throat. “It, um… It was just acting up. I ran out of meds and the pain it—it got bad. The kinda pain that sorta makes me wish I had the arm just so I could saw it off myself.”

Shit. He hadn’t mean to say that much but there was just something about the way you looked at him that made him feel like he couldn’t say a damn wrong thing. You pursed your lips, nodding in as much understanding as you could offer. You gestured to the staircase and Bucky followed you without question.

“I would have been here last week,” Bucky finished because he needed you to know. He couldn’t stand the idea of you being upset, of that sliver of disappointment in your voice when you’d accepted he wasn’t going to show. He needed you to know he’d tried.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you said simply, though he could tell you appreciated it nonetheless. You offered him a smile, one that washed away any feelings of doubt that crept up to the surface. The pain in his shoulder was long forgotten when you looked at him like that.

“I just wanted you to know.”

I just wanted you to know I’m trying.

He had something to look forward to now, a reason to get out of his bed and open the curtains and look at the fucking sun for once. He had reason to shower and go outside and shove away all the thoughts of self-doubt and paranoia because there was something incredible waiting for him beyond the door.

I just wanted you to know you’re the reason I’m trying.

“Come on,” you grinned, leading him to the staircase. “I have a few books in mind you might like.”

Your hand extended in his direction, but you caught yourself when you realized what you were doing. It was seamless enough that you easily played it off as you tugged your sweater tight around your body, but he noticed. It was an intimate gesture, a closeness he hadn’t known in years.

He hadn’t remembered what it felt like to crave something like that.

***

It didn’t take long for Bucky to settle on The Martian by Andy Weir. It was the first book you pulled from the shelves, one amongst a series of alternatives you had ready in the event this one didn’t appeal to him. All it took was a single glance over the back cover, a slight incline in his brow, and he was sold.

“I trust you,” was all Bucky had said; so simply, as if it didn’t take the breath straight from your chest.

Bucky didn’t have a library card you realized as you brought him back to the front desk. He’d sheepishly asked to check it out on your account, but you were determined to see more of him and you hoped that by getting him his own card, he might be more inclined to come back. Not that you explained it that way per say, but he didn’t object at least.

It had taken a lot less time than either of you anticipated and you found yourself following him to the exit, both of you dragging your feet.

“So, um…” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice. “That was easy.”

“Yeah,” you scratched at the back of your neck, glancing to the clock hanging high on the eastern wall. “I hope you like it after all this trust you’re putting in my judgement.”

“I’m sure I will.”

A short silence swept over. Neither of you moving to leave. A couple swerved around you in an effort to get to the doors. The silence wasn’t awkward, but there was a nervous energy in it, like you were both waiting for the other to make the first move. Only, you both did it at once.

“Would you want to—”

“I’m off at four—”

You bit down on your lips, suppressing a laugh. You gestured for him to go first. His looked so sweet with the pink in his cheeks. A man who had been once rendered as a weapon and he wore a blush in his cheeks. Your stomach held butterflies in its cage.

“There’s a coffeeshop nearby,” he continued nervously. “I was thinking I could replace that coffee of yours I spilled last week…”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from how wide you were smiling. “Give me five minutes? I just need to wrap things up with Mrs. Jefferson and then I’m yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, a flash of something unreadable on his face. He shook it off quickly and nodded, telling you he’d wait by the chairs along the wall until you were ready. It wasn’t until you were halfway to the desk that you’d realized what you’d said.

I’m yours.

A harmless saying; one people used every day in passing. Still, you felt that same surge of energy at the thought. From the twists in your stomach and the stammer in your heart, you knew that if he’d asked, it would be true.

***

Bucky watched as you scurried back to the main desk, a few quick glances back over your shoulder in his direction like you were making sure he was still there. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it ached in your cheeks. He’d never known anyone to smile as much as you did, like you had this limitless supply of joy eager to be tapped into. He couldn’t help but feel a twist in his stomach, knowing he had been able to syphon some of that joy and bring it to the surface. It was him you were smiling at. It felt like a dream.

He glanced down at the book nestled into the sleeve of his bag; a stunning ombre in shades of orange to red to black, a lone astronaut in the center – like he was floating adrift. You’d told him it was a story of survival, of the intricacies of humanity and human connection. It was funny at times and filled with science beyond your pay grade, but it was mesmerizing.

There was an unspoken hope he could read in your eyes that he might connect to the main character, Mark Watney in his search for connection, in his desperate hope to free himself from the isolation, in his resilience. You’d said Mark was an exceptional character, one with courage and determination to be admired.

Bucky wasn’t sure he could stand up to the likes of Mark Watney, but he would certainly try.

The glimmer in your eye as you spoke about the book, almost as if it were an old friend, was enough to convince him. For the first time in years, he felt the urge to read when he got home, just so he could see the look on your face in book club when you realized he’d already started it. He wanted to make you proud, wanted to see more of your smile. It was his new drive.

A few minutes later, you came jogging back up to him. Your purse hung over your shoulders, a few new books of your own tucked under your arm. You’d done more than finish your shift at the desk though, he realized, because his eyes flickered to a reflective shine on your lips, one that hadn’t been there before. You’d put on lip gloss.

His heart flipped.

“Ready?” you asked, gesturing to the doors. All bright eyes and sunshine as you looked at him.

“There’s a café called Luciana’s not too far from here. I’ve heard good things about it. Might be quiet,” Bucky offered and a flash of something unreadable crossed your features. “Do you know it?”

“I go there every Sunday before book club! It’s my favorite,” you replied, nearly skipping in your steps. “Replacing my coffee and getting it right down to the same shop? I’m impressed, Bucky.”

He chuckled, hanging his head as he followed you down the descending staircase and into the heavy flow of pedestrian traffic. He’d forgotten how busy the sidewalks could get at rush hour and the smile quickly drained from his face, though he wouldn’t let you see.

Bucky tried to focus on you as the strangers circled in around him, how you were laughing at the coincidence of it all, starting on a tangent of your favorite donuts at the shop. Your voice was like a beacon and he did his best use it as a guide.

But he could feel the quicken pace of his heart inside his chest, how it thumped through his ribs and pulsed into his head the closer strangers got to him. He swerved out of the way of a tourist who was too busy looking down at his phone to notice Bucky in his path. He kept his head down, hand clenched tightly in his jacket pocket, eyes staring at the concrete.

Teenagers were whispering behind him, snickering under their breath, and Bucky could hear the harsh ‘shhh’ of a father at wit’s end. His lungs felt tight, certain that the boys were mocking the loose sleeve hanging down by his side. He could have taken it if here were on his own. His ears would flush red and a wash of shame and embarrassment would flood his senses, but he could have taken it.

Not with you by his side. Not when you could be privy to the harsh stares and the cruel voices, the validation to a fear he’d known to be true long before he met you – that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and he would never find that sense of normalcy again. He was kidding himself into thinking that you could ever want someone like—

“Bucky?”

When he looked up at you, your smile had fallen away, replaced with concern. It must not have been the first time you called his name. He didn’t know what to say. He felt small, like a child, embarrassed that even on a good day the influx of people still rendered him to a state of panic.

“Come on,” you said quietly, glancing around to an alley off your shoulder. “Let’s take the scenic route.”

He followed gratefully, staring at your shoulder blades as you led him away from the busy hustle of the crowd and along empty side streets and residential neighborhoods. It would take longer this way, but you didn’t seem to mind. You were too busy admiring the architecture of the brownstones and the beautiful array of plants and flowers hanging along the windows. In the open space, you skipped a few paces ahead, arms out wide and twirled around, simply because you could. You laughed and it echoed up along the buildings.

Bucky could have handed you his heart right then. He could have pulled it straight from his chest and set it into your palms. He wondered if you would handle it with the tender sort of care he hoped you would. His heart was fraying and damaged, after all. It required a gentle touch.

You fell back in line with him easily and you checked to make sure the next block wasn’t too busy before you led him down another side street. He tried to ignore the voices telling him he was a burden, that his baggage was dragging heavy at your feet, but it crept to the surface no matter how many times you smiled at him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out, willing his voice to be stronger than it felt. “I don’t know why this is such an issue for me. I was fine on the way over.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Bucky,” you said gently, slowing your pace until you came to a stop.

Bucky dragged his feet, stopping along a bush of pink hydrangeas planted outside a stunning brick townhome. From the corner of his eye, he watched as your hand reached out to him instinctively, almost in slow motion, and you only paused as you realized what you were doing and pulled back. You cleared your throat.

“I’m not ever someone you have to apologize to about this stuff, okay?” you continued with a kind of sincerity in your voice, Bucky didn’t have a choice but to believe you. The way you looked at him nearly pulled him to pieces. “It comes and goes. Waxes and wanes. There’s no fault. No blame. Just tell me if something’s wrong, so I can help. That’s all I ask.”

Were you speaking from experience? Did you know someone who had been as shattered as he was? Was it the reason Sam wanted him to ask about why you were involved with the VA to begin with?

It was quiet on the side street; the only sound the distant footsteps from traffic up ahead and the low rumble of car engines in the distance. A bird chirped from a low handing branch above.

You shoved your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep yourself from reaching for his. He was surprised at the twist in his stomach when he wished you would have tried just one more time. Maybe he could have had some courage to take it.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, feeling a weight lift from his chest. When you smiled again it was small— a little heavy— but it touched your eyes. There was a relief in it, maybe an appreciation, too. It swept away some of the anxiety from his veins.

“Okay.” Your smile widened as you continued to walk down the sidewalk. Bucky found himself feeling a little lighter as he followed behind.

When the two of you approached the main street again along the block Luciana’s was tucked away in, Bucky didn’t feel as though he was suffocating anymore. He could sense his reflexes picking up, a subtle increase in his heart rate, but he walked a little closer to you, your hip bumping against his every so often and he found that it grounded him. It kept him firm on the surface when he felt like he was floating up into a distant unknown. He wondered if you knew the extent to which you affected him.

Luciana’s was quiet inside as Bucky jutted out ahead of you to reach for the door. A soft strum of an acoustic guitar and a Spanish speaking singer’s intricate melody hummed over the speakers. He felt a solid breath of air fill his lungs, tasting of coffee beans and fresh pastries.

“Welcome to—” a voice called from behind the counter before she paused, eyes falling on you. “Y/n!”

A woman ran out from behind the counter, dressed in a stained apron and a long, bright pink dress, and held her arms out to you. You laughed as she enveloped you to her chest.

“My darling! It is not Sunday, you know. You’re getting your days mixed up!” she exclaimed, wagging her finger at you. She didn’t even give you time to explain before she turned to Bucky, who suddenly felt a burn of heat on his face. “Ah! You finally brought me one of your boys!”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, turning to you quickly. His stomach dropped.

“She means at the VA,” you explained, a little embarrassed at her implication as you shuffled your feet, eyes darting at the floor. Bucky raised an eyebrow in realization, eyes flickering back to the woman – who he assumed to be Luciana herself – as she scurried back around the counter. He noticed then that she was wearing slippers on her feet.

“Come, come!” She called eagerly, waiting with a tapping toe at the register.

You and Bucky exchanged a glance, a breath of a laugh escaping before you stepped up to the counter. You didn’t hesitate in your order, though you took some extra time in looking over the pastries and donuts after Bucky told you to pick something out for him. You put so much thought into it, it was really quite sweet. He waited until you reached down for your purse to slip his card over the counter to Luciana.

She wore that same smile he’d seen on Mrs. Jefferson at the library. That smirk. Like they knew something he didn’t.

You heard the ring of the cash registered and looked up at him, agape. You swatted his arm without thinking twice about it and there was a comfort in that. He laughed, taking his coffee and settling in at a table by the windows as you followed behind.

As he watched you across the table, your eyes glancing out to the pedestrians as they walked back, nursing the steaming mug of coffee between your hands, that morning suddenly felt like it was a life time ago.

Had he really been paralyzed with pain, unable to move from his bed, just a few hours earlier? It felt like a century had passed in between. In a rare indulgence, Bucky let himself wonder what it would feel like to spend all his time with you; if maybe time moved so fast it swept him off his feet or if it moved slow enough to allow him to catch every second.

All he knew was that he wanted more.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

Note

dearest comfy <3 what if Triss was a blacksmith AND Eskel was a blacksmith??? What then?? Enemies to lovers maybe? <3

Ellie. I love you. I love this prompt. And I love Trisskel. This is a triple threat of wonderfulness. Hopefully the fic delivers 💖💖

Warnings: no violence, some hostile Triss (mostly internal), lmao is this considered idiot and exasperated to lovers? idk you tell me, its pretty chill tbh, unless you don’t like daggers. there's lots of daggers.

_____________________

Triss was furious.

She had spent her whole life stoking a furnace, shadowing her father, sweating, suffering burn after burn and later cut after searing cut as she learned to forge all sorts of weaponry. Now, this teddy bear-shaped child was setting up shop in her courtyard?! Unacceptable. Unbelievable! She’d staked a claim on her territory for market day early. So early she hadn’t even made her first blade. Her father still had her hammering out decorative discs and fastenings for armor.

One of her customers had the audacity to call him ‘cute’ to her face.

He was no more than twenty-five, tall and stocky like most people expected of a blacksmith, but they claimed there was a softness about him. Triss remembered that softness well, before loss and responsibility really set in. What others saw as sweet, boyish charm she saw as a weakness.

She sent her assistant to assess his booth, maybe flirt and ask some questions, and was even more annoyed when they came back.

“He’s young but he’s not inexperienced. His blades are good. So is his uh… customer service.”

Triss rolled her eyes, “What kind of weapons was he selling? I don’t care about his looks. I have breasts.”

Her assistant shrugged and described his table.

That following week she put in double the hours at her workshop, put the extra flourish on every piece, perfected every detail until her arms ached and her head pounded. She often forgot to drink water, let alone eat, when she got worked up, so her assistant brought her meals.

When the next market day came, she proudly displayed her new wares.

And if she took her hair out of the usual braids and unbuttoned her blouse a bit lower than last week, who would be brave enough to point it out?

This time the newcomer had the gaul to visit her booth.

“Good morning, Miss Merigold,” he dipped in a bow of respect before she even turned around to greet him, straightening up and disarming her with a lopsided grin, “My apologies, I meant to introduce myself after last week’s market. But you were far more efficient at break-down than I.”

She wouldn’t have called him cute by a long shot. He was downright handsome.

Then she remembered they were rivals. There would be no fraternizing with the enemy.

It took her a moment to gather her wits before she responded, “Good morning. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

She knew.

Of course she knew. But he was far better looking than she had assumed, his scars only adding to his alluring presence, and she needed to feel like she had the upper hand.

His smile grew a bit sheepish, “Eskel of the Blue Mountains. I’m your new neighbor… sort of,” he offered his hand over her table and she took it, hoping her hesitation wasn’t too obvious.

“Welcome. I hope the city is treating you well?”

“Well enough,” he acquiesced, letting go of her hand after a moment, “To be truthful, I haven’t left my forge much at all. I’m still getting used to her. But you know how that goes.”

Triss raised her eyebrows and plastered an over-polite smile on her face, “I must say I wouldn’t. I inherited my forge from my father. I learned with her. We get along quite well.”

Eskel was called by someone from his booth as he made to speak. He waved at them to wait a moment and turned back to Triss with a wink, “Well if you have any relationship advice, let me know.”

Before she could think of a polite but not too friendly response, he was gone.

She turned back to her assistant in a huff, “He’s infuriating.”

“He’s dreamy.”

“Hush,” she snapped, pointing to her sketch pad, “Hand me that. Call for me if there’s a large sale or a problem.”

She sketched and planned half the day away. But when she realized how much the materials for her plans would cost she adjusted her cleavage and left her tent. Someone had to drive the hard bargain around here, and she knew her assistant was too kind.

The next week she arrived with a beautiful set of delicate-looking throwing knives, a few different ornate daggers, and a sword fit for a king alongside her typical, practical items. However, she was seeing more than just her flowing hilt designs inlaid with etchings.

Eskel seemed to have had a similar idea.

She wandered past his booth, pretending to buy fabric from the stall next to him, and fumed. It seemed Eskel had a sharper eye than she’d anticipated. He very clearly mimicked her setup and emphasized the smaller wares like she did. He even had the same sign in three different languages about customizations and bulk orders.

This had become all out war.

When her sword sold that day she decided to finish off the dozen or so she had laying in wait for specific orders over the week. She even detailed a breastplate to match for three of them, guessing at the size in reference to the sword as best she could. As she worked she mulled over her new competition. His soft golden eyes that crinkled ever so slightly when he smiled were absolutely aggravating. At least that’s what she told herself. It was simply her competitive nature that had her fixating on this mountain of a man.

She returned the next week with a spread so large she could barely fit it on her table.

Eskel had come back with daggers inlaid with precious stones of dazzling pale blue and sparkling greys and whites. Blue Mountains indeed.

Polite customers started mumbling comparisons to themselves while the brash ones outwardly used the other stall to barter a better price. Every time Eskel was mentioned Triss would bristle, hold back a snarl, and turn on every bit of innocent charm she had.

She began leaving with a lighter cart and a challenging wink from her competition. Over the week she worked her fingers to the bone over fine details and getting the balance absolutely perfect.

After months of competition, months of uncomfortable eye contact, she finally broke when he sold a matching helmet, breastplate, and dagger to one of her most loyal customers.

“Eskel. We need to have a word,” she marched right up to his tent, hands tucked into her half apron at her waist.

He smirked, “That all?”

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “We can’t keep making the same things.”

“Pretty daggers and ceremonial armor? Why not?” he mimicked her, folding his massive arms over his own chest, leaning back against his table, making him just a little bit taller than Triss rather than the usual towering over her.

She rolled her eyes and stepped a little closer, “We’ve both done well, or I’m assuming you have, but eventually all the nobility this side of the canal will have been sold to. We’ll have saturated the market and be left with an armory full of ornate weaponry with no one to buy it.”

“Preserving the market means one gets to keep said market.”

Triss nodded but Eskel seemed unimpressed.

“And how would you suggest we settle who keeps it?” he raised an eyebrow at her and she just wanted to smack the smug look off his face. Or kiss it. She really wasn’t sure anymore.

She scrambled for a moment, not having entirely thought this through, “A competition.”

He stood to full height and sighed, “What are the terms?”

“One dagger. Same price. Whoever sells first gets the market. The other has to branch out or move.”

Eskel nodded and held his hand out, “Agreed.”

Triss went to take his hand but he gripped her forearm, his whole hand covering much of her elbow. She did her best not to think about how strong his arm felt in her grasp, how when she squeezed she felt a gentle give before she hit muscle.

He winked at her as he released his grasp and turned back to work, “See you next week Merigold.”

Triss worked on a single dagger all week.

She couldn’t get Eskel’s stupid cocky smile or his tanned arms out of her head. The way he looked down at her with that condescending smile enraged her. Her assistant claimed he looked more fond than condescending, but Triss only narrowed her eyes and shook her head. She’d been raised in the marketplace. She knew exactly how men viewed her.

In the end, her dagger looked very fitting for a man like him. Broad, sturdy, a bit curved at the tip, and simply yet elegantly decorated. She cooled it in a liquid mixture her father had made and kept secret, giving the blade a finish similar to copper, but with all the strength of steel.

If she noticed the coincidence she stubbornly ignored it.

Eskel was already set up and waiting when she arrived at the market. She spared him only a curt nod while she set up her booth as if preparing for battle.

He sauntered over to her before dawn had officially broken, blade in hand with what Triss might guess to be a nervous expression.

“Good morning, Merigold,” he cleared his throat and set the dagger currently wrapped in cloth on the table between them, “What have you for our little competition?”

Triss proudly pulled the dagger she had made from her case, handing it over by the hilt as she spoke, “Good morning, Eskel.”

He took the blade and hummed as he inspected it, whispering, “It’s beautiful...”

She wasn’t prepared for such a genuine compliment. Nor was she prepared for how much she loved hearing that word fall from his lips.

“Th-thank you.”

Eskel handed it back before unwrapping his.

Triss almost had to catch her breath. It was gorgeous, gracefully curved, a turquoise stone grip bordered by an ornate handguard. The part that really got her though was the engraving on the blade. She stepped out and around the table to catch more of the sunlight to see what it was and gasped. Little jasmine flowers were etched into the flat of the blade.

She looked up at him in awe, “Why jasmine?”

He gave her a crooked smile, rubbing the back of his neck, “You, ahm- your perfume. It is jasmine right?”

She tilted her head and really looked at him since the first time she met him, “You noticed my perfume?”

“It’s nice,” he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his leather apron pockets.

Triss thought about all the winks and the ‘good mornings’ and compliments. She’d thought they were just to get her buttered up, but maybe she’d been a little harsher than she needed to.

“It’s stunning,” she breathed, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, not wanting to pull away from his warmth when she had to.

They were interrupted by her assistant and set a price quickly before scurrying back to their tents.

All day they would glance toward the other’s booth, but Triss was no longer checking his table. She was looking for him. His kind smile and boisterous laugh. His easy charm and especially his humility under pressure.

All day she struggled with the realization that she was just a little bit in love with her competition.

Nearing sundown she told her assistant to begin cleaning up and grabbed her coin purse before marching over to his stand once again.

“Did you sell it?” Eskel looked disappointed and she was surprised to be glad to tell him no.

“I have two things to say and I will only say them once, so listen carefully. I realize I’ve been unduly cold to you and I want to apologize. You’ve proven that you’re not only a skilled craftsman but seem to be a good man as well and you don’t deserve it. “

“Apology accepted,” Eskel grinned, leaning back on his table as he waited for her next item.

“Thank you. Now, I’d like to buy the dagger. The one with the jasmines.”

Eskel frowned, “You- you’re forfeiting?”

Triss bit her lip and forced herself to look him in his honey gold eyes, “Yes. Though I hope we can both agree to stay where we are? I think I might miss you if you leave.”

He grinned and pushed off the table, standing just inches from Triss now that he was upright. His hand hesitantly brushed a stray curl out of her eyes as he leaned closer, hesitating to give her time to leave if she wanted, before he brushed his lips against hers. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as they kissed. His hands covered her back, pressing her to him and nearly lifting her off her feet.

When they parted they were gasping for breath they both wished they didn't need.

“What about a trade and a truce?”

Triss nodded, standing up on her tiptoes to plant another kiss on his lips, “And dinner.”

Eskel chuckled, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

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peaceofflights · 3 years

Text

Wonder Boy

Rated: T just to be safe. Yes it is based on “We Can Be Heroes” but it’s definitely not intended for kids (no surprise).

Pairings: Miracle Guy x Reader

Warnings: Language, a lot of cursing. Use of the word god as a curse if you aren’t into that. References to sex.

Word Count: 3,200

A/N: I wrote this because I realized I could only find one Miracle Guy x Reader fic and I kind of find that unacceptable. This is set before We Can Be Heroes which is why their kids aren’t mentioned. This isn’t beta read because I have no friends, you've been warned.

If someone had told you three months ago that you’d be strutting around town in a pair of cowboy boots and Daisy Dukes with the fucking Miracle “Wonder Boy” Guy himself you’d have laughed in their face. But this wasn’t two months ago. And here you were ludicrous attire and all sitting in some shity ass diner with the unofficial Heroics man whore.

The job sounded great. Well… not great great, but when you’re in your twenties with no hospitality experience and a new apartment with rent more expensive than your car you’ll take anything. It’s not like you were clueless, you had a plan, well originally. No one is stupid enough to move across the country without some type of plan to make money. Living with your sister seemed like the obvious choice. She was responsible, reliable, and If she was able to get married and buy a house in California she must know what she’s doing. It all seemed to be working out until she told you her very exciting news, she’s pregnant. It’s not like she told you to leave, but you got the hint that maybe it was time to start looking elsewhere for somewhere to live. That’s how you ended up here. Barely six months into living in a new state, working at a country bar. God, do people in California even eat barbecue?

It was your second week on the job, first week working alone. Of course being the new kid meant that you got the worst shifts. Afternoons. Who the hell was coming to a bar at twelve in the afternoon? Losers and sad sacks, that's who. Depressed unemployed bastards that were hoping for any sort of human interaction, and creepy douchebags coming in on their lunch breaks hoping to see a little more than denim when you bent down to pick the old straw wrappers left on the floor. You’d put him in that category.

He walked in like he owned the place, tall, blonde, handsome, all the things you weren't looking for. Too much like your ex. The last thing you needed was another blonde with a god complex looking to “fix” your admittedly fucked up life. He was followed in by a shorter man, if only by a few inches. With skin a warm honey color and coiffed hair falling in front of his glasses he could have stopped a room if he came in on his own, however he hadn’t and was now following behind the other admittedly cocky looking individual.

The room buzzed with a quiet murmur of whispers between employees and guests alike. The previously dead atmosphere was now filled with electricity. Damn, were you missing something? You knew you were new, but was there some type of spectacle you just didn’t get? No matter, if a man walks into a room with that kind of confidence he was either a big tipper or a pompous asshole, and you were about to find out.

“Hey darlin’”

And you got your answer.

Just smile, be nice. Flirt a little. Bat your eyes and hope for that great big tip.

“Wonder Boy.”

Fuck.

He scoffed, laughing a little and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually it’s-”

“I don’t really care.” You smirked sarcastically. “Wonder Boy suits you fine.”

His friend laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Damn he was handsome. The kind of person who doesn’t realize just how beautiful they are no matter how many times someone tells them. Wonder Boy on the other hand, he knew. Fuck he knew. He probably has never been turned down once in his life. He could probably spit on most girls and they’d say “thank you very much let’s do it again some time.”. It’s not like you couldn’t play that part. Giggle a little, laugh at his jokes and be handed that crisp fifty that’s probably worth more than the actual bill. He probably kept it just waiting there in his wallet for a moment just like this, or maybe his underwear because man, was this guy into himself. But who were you kidding, you weren't gonna play that game. Brutal honesty ran too strongly in your DNA, and you had already spent one too many nights in the two weeks you’ve worked here flirting with sixty year old men who were too occupied staring at your tits than to look at your face. Really you were just helping him in the long run. If you didn’t teach him that women were people, who would?

“And what can I get for you dear?” You smiled warmly directly at his friend.

That did it. His face dropped for a moment, before replastering on his cocky grin.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you working here for?”

“Money.”

“Hilarious.”

He smiled before putting his hand lightly over left arm that was leaning on the table. You put on your best seductive grin, batty your eyes before answering. “Oh I know, practically a comedian.”

“Oh really? Why don’t you give me your number so I can put that statement to test.”

This was your moment to lose. You leaned your body in close to the table before whispering in his ear, “No.”.

His smile immediately dropped, instantly replaced by a face of confusion. He leaned back in his chair laughing awkwardly shaking his head at you as if you were kidding. However, before he could ask you any questions you responded to what you imagined was running through his head.

“Because women don’t want to be hit on at their place of employment. Which you would have known if you didn’t have the ego of a prized stallion and took the hint when you sat down. “

Well so much for that tip.

You were right. He tipped you two dollars, on a fifty-three dollar meal! Fucking asshole. When he walked away his friend sweetly slipped a ten into your hand claiming his friend had just never been turned down before. No surprise there. So a week later when the pair turned up at the bar, to say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were fucking flabbergasted.

You hadn’t noticed the two walk in right away until your coworker Kelly loudly whispered that Miracle Guy was at their bar. Who? She attempted to sigh at you but her excitement made it come out as a breathy giggle. You petted the mousy blonde’s head attempting to calm her down, about to tell her she could wait on the guy when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey darlin’, I was hoping you were working today.”

My god that man was exhausting. You swore he was going to be the death of you, and after your previous encounter you figured it would be the last. You felt like you were going to go insane, however regardless you put on a brave face and turned around to address him.

“Wonder Boy, oh good you’re back.” You emphasised sarcastically, waving in unenthused jazz hands for good measure. “My section is that front left corner, so if you choose to sit anywhere else you won’t have to deal with my snarking comments.”

“You know Miracle Guy?” She whispered in a voice you assumed she thought was a subtitle tone. You weren’t about to explain to her it wasn’t and he and his friend could very clearly hear her. She was nice, if not a little ditzy. Honestly, it just gave you more questions than answers anyway. Who was Miracle Guy and why was he a big fucking deal? Ignoring her excitement you decided playing it nonchalant was the best move here. And by nonchalant, really more annoyed and dismissive.

“Yeah, he was here last week. He ordered the spare ribs. He’s kind of an a-” You turned as you talked to her, only to him sitting in your section a smirk on his face and his hand waving oh so dramatically at you. Game on buddy.

“Aren’t you concerned that your red meat intake is going to lead to heart disease?”

“Aren’t you concerned that you haven’t had a day off in two weeks?”

You two had been playing this game every day for weeks now, man this guy even came in on his days off. Marcus, whom you had learned his name, stopped coming after the first week of everyday constant bickering. Leaving you and Miracle Guy (something you refused to call him) to duke it out on your own. It was almost fun, something you would of course never tell him. Now that he learned to give a decent tip you looked forward to seeing the hotshot blonde every day. It was almost like having a friend, something you relied on.

“If you must know I picked up a few extra shifts. Not everyone is a millionaire superhero who can afford to eat at this fine dining establishment everyday.”

Your comment through him off guard forcing the laughter came out of his mouth in one strong blow. Taking not only the oxygen from his lunges with it, but also a wapping mouthful of silvia that got shot across the table like a model rocket. His laughter refused to subside as his intake of air was canceled by a generous amount of coughing.

You looked around the room for something to give him, but ultimately ended patting him on the back in a motion you knew was in fact not helping.

“You need to stop making me laugh when I’m trying to breathe, that’s just common courtesy.”

“Damn you’re right, I won’t speak anymore.”

He flopped onto the table dramatically, letting his arms reach the end purposely avoiding his drink. “Thank god! Finally some peace and quiet.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, settling into the light atmosphere. This had become your new normal, and you were okay with that. It was easy, lighthearted, and made working at a dive bar just a bit more bearable.

“Go out with me.”

The whole room went black, and for the first time you didn’t know what to say. In fact you couldn’t say anything. Your mouth felt drying and unusable. You stood there staring at him for a minute, maybe ten you weren't sure. Finally as the swirls behind your eyes began to fade you swallowed the lump in your throat. You paused after you began to speak realising that nothing was coming out. It was now or never. You closed your eyes counting to ten in your head before you answered.

“No”

“Okay, wait what?”

For the first time since he had walked into your bar you saw his facade crack. No longer confident Wonder Boy with a fake puppy dog pout. Or even the hotshot Miracle Guy with smugness written across his face just waiting to unleash his next comeback. It was like the first day relived, but ultimately worse. What did you do? You knew you were known for putting your foot in your mouth, but never have you told a flat out lie. To who? Miracle? Yourself? You had to fix this, you had to say something to fix this situation. Any was better than this. You just had to tell him the truth, after all it was your distinct quality. For better or for worse you were brutally honest.

“You’re a great guy Miracle, honestly you are. I know there are a ton of girls that want to go out with you.” The room went black. “they just aren’t me.”

Looks like there’s a first time for everything.

The weeks seemed to pass by slowing. Everyday in the same skimpy uniform waiting for your shift to end. You’d love to say that the job had just gotten more dull, but that was a lie. You knew exactly what was missing, and it just so happened to be a cocky blonde with a shit eating grin.

Working with Jack was nice. He was funny, approachable, and everyone seemed to like him. Unlike Kelly, he had a good head on his shoulders. However, if there was one thing to know about him, and was that Jack spoke his mind. All. The. Time. It didn’t matter who he was speaking to or who he was around, he would be telling it like it is.

“Hey, your hot regular is back.”

Your head whipped around so fast only too see fucking Marcus Moreno walking in the front door. Of course you liked Marcus, really you did, but he wasn't who you were hoping to see.

“That man is so fine.”

“Jack!”

“You should shoot your shot before some else does.”

You ran over to slap him in the arm. However, despite wincing he couldn’t stop laughing at you.

“All i’m saying is that you couldn’t stop talking about how cute he was after the first time he came here. And clearly he’s not back for the food, I mean if you play your cards right he might be eating something later.” He stopped to grab a notebook from your hands that you were about to hit him with before continuing. “You know what we say around here, save a horse, ride a cowboy. If you aren’t going to let me take a turn, it’s a crime to waste that fine ass.”

Before you could probably scold him, he gave you a wink and shoved in Marcus’ direction.

“Hey Marcus, what can I get for you?”

“He misses you.”

It would be so simple to pretend didn’t know who he was talking about. You could play dumb and end this conversation just as quickly as it began. It would be easy and guarantee you being home in an hour watching endless reality reruns with your dog, eating slightly freezer burnt ice cream.

“Marcus-”

“I don’t know what you said to him, but it really broke him. He’s been quiet, and you and I both know that’s not normal for him. I asked him to lay low on a mission the other day, and he did it. Miracle, “Mr. My Face is On Toothpaste”-”

“Yeah I can’t believe I missed that.”

Despite the serious situation he let out a snort, running his fingers uncomfortably through his hair. “I think you’re the first person I’ve met in months that didn’t already know exactly who I was.” He gulped. “And I think that’s the point. Miracle has never had a woman not falling at his feet when he’s shown the slightest interest.”

“So what? You want me to apologize?”

Your fight or flight response seemed to be kicking in. Because you couldn’t exactly walk away right now you instead relied on your second instinct, defensiveness.

“No, I’m not asking you to apologize. Let’s face it you could do a lot better than Miracle.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, seriously. You’re smart, funny, you could do a lot better than him. But I’ve never seen him like this about anyone. By just coming to see you everyday he’s become a lot less of an asshole, and for a while I was genuinely concerned that would never be possible.”

It seemed like he was gearing up for an uplifting speech. It was no surprise that he was the Team Leader of the Heroics; he seemed like the type that gave them a lot, but you weren’t in the mood to hear it.

“Look Marcus I’m really not-”

“I’m not asking you to apologize. But whatever you said to him I was hoping maybe you might want to reconsider.”

Man this guy was smart.

“You already know what happened don’t you?”

“I’ve pieced some of it together.” But the look on his face said it all. He knew everything.

“He’s been hanging out at that diner a couple blocks down in case you were interested.”

Team leader was good.

And that’s how you found yourself at a sketchy diner at half past eleven dressed like a cowgirl from a 1970’s PlayBoy. He was sitting in a booth in the furthest corner of the restaurant, dressed in a black t-shirt. He had a chocolate milkshake in front of him that seemed water down like it had been sitting for a long time, but was still completely filled. His normally clean shaven face was replaced by the beginnings of a mustache.

“So is shitty dining establishments just your thing then?”

“You look good like that. Nice to see this uniform in fluorescent lighting.”

His tone was light and carefree, but you couldn’t help but notice how his smile didn’t meet his eyes. He looked fine, good even. You didn’t know what you were expecting, him to be a crying mess? It almost hurt that he wasn’t. If you didn’t look too hard he was the exact same Miracle Guy dreamily smiling on all the billboards and magazines… not that you had been looking at them. But he wasn’t. Marcus said that he was different because of you, and the way his eyes no longer sparkled made you hope that was true. Maybe you hadn’t missed your chance.

“Marcus came into my bar today.”

You figured that the best choice was to just be honest. Tell him how you felt. You tried to plan out what you were going to say to him during the three block walk over, but in this moment you didn’t seem to remember any of it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s not into dudes right? Because I think my coworker is totally into him- you know what it’s unimportant. He said something and I wanted to know if it was true.”

You waited for him to answer, say something, but he didn’t. So you decided to just ask. “He said that you’ve been different since you met me, is that true?”

He nervously fixed his hair. You’ve noticed over the past couple months that he doesn’t run his fingers through it like Marcus does when he’s anxious, he fixes it. Afraid to be seen with anything out of place, afraid to let his guard down or his facade drop.

“I don’t know what answer you’re looking for. Am I supposed to say yes? Is this some type of test where I answer correctly and then you slap me anyway?”

“Will you go out with me?”

You did it. You were on cloud fucking nine. It’s like the world was shitting rainbows and unicorns just for you. All he had to do was say the word and the moment you’ve been replaying trying to fix in your head for weeks would be complete.

“No.”

Wait.

What?

What the actually fuck?

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m just kidding. Not so nice when someone does it to you now is it?”

You hated him. You actually fucking hated him. But as you scooted in next to him in the booth you knew everything was going to be okay. He gently started to pet your hair as you put your head on his shoulder. This is the moment you had been waiting for.

“You are the worst, I hope you know that.” The words may be harsh, but you both knew there was no real venom behind them. As he softly pulled your chin up to look at him you smiled. “I missed you Wonder Boy.”

“So how does this work, do I lean in first? Do you lean in first?”

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this?”

“I mean I am, but if this is my only chance with you I don’t want to screw it up. I can take my pants off now if you think it’ll be easier.”

Oh god. What had you gotten yourself into?

#miracle guy #miracle guy x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #we can be heroes #marcus moreno fanfic #no y/n #weird country theme for some reason #wonder boy

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queenofthefullmoon · 4 years

Text

An exhaustive list of Dark Souls 3 bosses I would or would not date

Iudex/Champion Gundyr

We’re starting off this list with a strong yes. Our boy Gundyr has had a hard, difficult life, and he deserves some good company. He’s tall, strong, and I trust him to protect us as we set a lovely camp site outside of the fire link shrine.

Vordt of the Boreal Valley

Vordt is big and he is feral which are truly the only two qualities I look for in a man. Together we’d be unstoppable. I mean, think about how easy it would be to go around with him: just climb on his back and let the rodeo begin, baby. This argument alone should be enough to convince you that Vordt is a suitable boyfriend, but here’s another one: if you get too hot in the summer, worry fucking not for your gigantic man can hold his equally gigantic hammer over you and cover you with snow like an italian man covering his pasta with parmesan.

Cursed Rotted Greatwood

Now while I’m certain it would be a perfect partner for some people, the Cursed Rotted Greatwood isn’t for me. For one, I am not fan of curses, or rot, or weird sticky balls, or strange orange acid, or pale white and slightly viscous hands bursting through a living tree. Secondly, I feel like the crowd of Hollows who group up around the tree would be a big impediment to our intimacy, and I’m not ready to be the mother of 20 Hollows.

Crystal Sage

No offense but you’d be an idiot for not wanting to date the Crystal Sage. All wrapped up in one package, you get a super competent sorcerer bf, who wears the coolest hat in the galaxy and an equally cool cape, and who overall looks like the upgraded version of a plague doctor. In addition to that he also has a pretty rapier so you can both engage in some sparring (which we all know is the most romantic couple activity).

Deacons of the Deep

Probably one of the worst options on the list, they’re all crusty, rotting men moaning around a biggass coffin. There are many technical questions. If I dated a deacon, would I have to date all of them? Can we go out on dates or are they obligated to stay next to the coffin at all times? Can I even date them at all?? Not that I would, because I have standards. The only pro to entering this relationship(s?) would be that I’d probably get one of their robes for free, but the cons are so numerous that I’d rather buy it myself.

Abyss Watchers

Let’s be real and honest even if it hurts. Would I date an Abyss Watcher? Yes. Maybe I’d even date two. However, would an Abyss Watcher date me? No, because they’re all in love with Artorias, and I can’t blame them for that.

Old Demon King

At first I considered dating the Old Demon King like a Russian Instagram model dates an old, rich American man: with a great deal of fake love but above all great patience in order to be the only person on the will. But then I thought about it more, and what does the Old Demon King have to offer, really? A big firework show that will leave him exhausted like the old creature he is, and maybe some pyromancies. Truly, it is not worth it, especially since I’d have to take residence where he lives, in a big old room filled with the corpses of his kin.

High Lord Wolnir

I’ve got nothing against Wolnir personally, but I have no interest in skeletons, nor in his army of skeleton children. As stated above I’m not ready to be a mother. I feel like if we got in an argument and he sighed, he would poison me with his awful breath and I would die a horrible death. Also, living on the brink of the Abyss doesn’t appeal to me that much. However I would like Wolnir to be a good friend I can talk jewelry with because let’s be honest, the man (skeleton?) is blinged the fuck out even in death and I respect that.

Yhorm the Giant

Yes, I would date Yhorm. He was nothing but a sweet, misunderstood giant who always tried to get people to trust him and he convinced me. I would put my life in his big hands. Think of the possibilities. Just like with Vordt he could carry you everywhere but in a less reckless way if you prefer proper manners. You’d never have to worry about not seeing anything at a concert. Also, may I add that waiting for you to show up while sitting on his biggass throne is an absolute power move? Yhorm is a Lord of Cinder, but above all, a Lord of this heart.

Pontiff Sulyvahn

Would I date him because of his appealing aesthetic? Yes. Would I date him for anything else? No. Sulyvahn is absolutely terrifying, completely unhinged in the most frightening way, which is that he doesn’t look bat shit crazy. I could be thinking that everything is going well in our relationship then suddenly he’d lock me in a dungeon then would feed me to his weird friend because I put a fork in the knife drawer. He could pretend to propose and give me a weird fucked up ring with his eye in it and the next thing I know I’d be running in a field on all fours. I don’t trust like that.

Aldritch, Devourer of Gods

I’m so sad about Aldritch because literally everything about him is completely unappealing, unacceptable, unnatural, unholy, abhorrent, but he has the delicate and beautiful face of Gwyndolin. While our lovely Gwyndolin looks gorgeous as ever it doesn’t make up for the fact that Aldritch devoured people and probably wouldn’t find love to be a good reason to not eat his partner. The only reason I can find to have a friendship (not even a romantic relationship) with him is if you really like experimenting with cooking and you really, really need someone to taste your inventions.

Dancer of the Boreal Valley

I feel attraction, which means that just like any other being who feels attraction, I would date the Dancer. She is beautiful, graceful, a bit feral, and would not hesitate to put a flaming knife to my throat, which is the description of my dream woman. Imagine walking the streets with her, trying to hold her hand while it dangles 3 feet above you and she insists on holding her sword, actually, so she might slay anyone who tries to approach you, which she communicates through icy breaths and murmurs. The date of a lifetime.

Oceiros, the Consumed King

Another awful choice on this list, Oceiros is RABID and also, as far as we know, still a married man. You really want to date a man that hasn’t even gone through his divorce but already looks like this? Me neither. I’m already not big on dragon fucking but the fact that he’s all viscous and has weird growths all over him is not helping. Also, he has children, and we know how I feel about that — although, given how he treats them, he probably won’t have kids very soon (too far?).

Ancient Wyvern

So I’ve stated that I’m not very big on dragon fucking. With that said, do I think the wyvern is sexy and beautiful? Absolutely so. You’re probably like « Blue you’re sending mixed signals, are you gonna date the lizard or not? » and to that I say, date? Perhaps not. I would however like to form a lifelong bond with this wonderful force of nature and fight by its side, live a long and fulfilling life travelling along with it, only to die at the same time atop the tallest mountain in the world, where our skeletons will be discovers hundreds of years in the future by brave explorers, who will confirm that the legendary songs that were written about us were in fact not just a myth.

Nameless King

You’ve just read what I said about the wyvern. I feel like the Nameless King really understands me and would respect me for that. We could bond over our love of dragons and other flying scaly beasts and perhaps share some chaste kisses while soaring the sky on our companions. It’s nice to date someone who loves pets as much as you. I feel like he would be a fun guy to hang around in general, maybe he’d let you braid his hair or try on his crown. He can arrange personalized fireworks shows for you with his lightning powers. I don’t think you’d ever be bored around him.

Dragonslayer Armor

Dating an empty suit of armor has never bothered me (see: ds2 Ruin Sentinels), however I have beef with the dragonslayer armor. Is it a beautiful armor? Perhaps a bit worn off, but the reply remains affirmative. However, it is controlled by Pilgrim Butterflies, which basically means I’m dating one to multiple of these things in the shape of an armor, and I’ve gotta confess that I’m not down for that.

Lorian Older Prince and Lothric Younger Prince

Here comes the delicate moment where we have to make a choice without offending anyone. I personally, speaking for myself, in my own opinion, would rather date Lorian. Reason: he is big, strong, and a bit rabid, which I’ve made very clear is my type. I don’t dislike Lothric, but I feel like we’d be better off as best friends who have a really snarky group chat where we shit talk the entire kingdom. That’s pretty good because if I even just slightly disliked Lothric I’m pretty sure Lorian would sense it and would not hesitate to murder me on sight.

Champion’s Gravetender and Champion Greatwolf

Well the full name is just a formality here, I’m not completely insane so I don’t want to date this rabid wolf. I feel like the Champion’s Gravetender is just a normal dude who’s a bit in over his head and it’s not his fault but he just seems a bit boring compared to all my other options. Instead of a date I think he’d be more of an awkward flirt I had when I was bored and then I came to my senses but didn’t know how to disengage, but in the end it worked out because he was more interested in his work anyway.

Sister Friede and Father Ariandel

Again a choice has to be made and I will have to be predictable and say I’d date Elfriede. Just like Dancer she’s what the woman of my dreams is made of. She’s graceful and could easily take my life and I think it’s awfully sexy of her to be like that. I think I’d be accepted into the family pretty easily, which is important since Father Ariandel cares about Friede so much. I’d go visit him sometimes, play chess with him, bring him his flail, normal interactions with your girlfriend’s dad.

Soul of Cinder

I’m gonna be a tiny bit freaky here and say I’d date the Soul of Cinder. Dating it is just like opening a Kinder Surprise egg, you never know what you’re gonna get (sorry Americans for excluding you here). That makes life exciting and doesn’t let routine stall your relationship. Every day you can wake up with the question « What weapon will my darling walk around with today? The flaming sword, or the sorcery staff? » and be surprised by the answer. Truly ideal, but I understand it’s not for the faint of heart.

Demon Prince

I’m gonna go with a maaaaaaybeeeee? leaning towards no. I mean yes, the Demon Prince is a weird fleshy flaming demon, and that may be a bit gross, but I’ve gotta admit I admire his style, the drama of it all. The care he puts into his entrance, the attitude in his moves. If we don’t date I’d at least want to be friends so he can teach me his ways.

Darkeater Midir

I have very intense and contradictory feelings towards Midir. In one hand, holy shit, absolutely epic dragon, the spirit of companionship is growing in me. On the other hand, this beast is RABID and pretending I could tame him is foolish, and pretentious. I guess in the end the answer remains that I don’t date dragons, I just want to adopt them as my extremely exotic pets.

Halflight, Spear of the Church

Yeah I’d date Halflight, I know it’s the easy answer but look at him. I mean shit he’s walking around like a little thotty with his shirt open and you mean to tell me I’m not supposed to wanna date him because he looks pretty much like a regular dude? My boy Halflight WANTS me to date him or else he would not show up with his tiddies out to a sword fight, which as an activity already has enough erotic implications on its own.

Slave Knight Gael

I’m gonna say it unashamedly and I’ll say it again: I would date Gael. He’s been nothing but helpful and when he tries to attack you it’s to help his little lady that he’s adopted as his niece. We love a chaotic parental figure. Maybe he’s a tad bit old and dirty but there’s nothing a good bath can’t fix and I’m sure he’d appreciate having someone taking care of him for once. Again, he’s got that slightly unhinged quality to him that makes him delightful. When I walk around with my partner I want us to instill both fear and fascination in people which we would be able to accomplish perfectly well.

Dark Souls 1: Remastered date list // Dark Souls 2: Scholar of the First Sin date list

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bellafarallones2 · 3 years

Text

a stranger in a strange land

Hollis recognized Indrid Cold like a traveler might recognize another from their home country. Indrid was studying the display of new nonfiction in the Kepler Community Library, arms folded across his chest. He was wearing jeans and a white tank-top.

Hollis moved confidently, black combat boots on gray library carpet. Indrid looked up a moment before they reached his side, and nodded to acknowledge them.

Hollis looked into their own face, reflected in his red sunglasses. Those sunglasses were familiar. They’d met someone, a few years back, when coolness was something they aspired to rather than claimed as easily as the double-black-diamond ski jumps, who wore sunglasses with a third lens in the center of their forehead. Indrid’s were mundane by comparison.

“Hey, I’m Hollis. They/them.”

Indrid waited a beat after they’d finished to start speaking. “Indrid. He/him. Pleasure to meet you.”

“You, uh, new in town?”

“One might say.”

Hollis laughed. “C’mon, man, not exactly a riddle.”

“Yeah, I am new in town.”

“Well, if you wanna meet people. There’s a bar called the Little Dipper. Cool spot.”

Indrid nodded. “Thank you for the recommendation.”

They didn’t see each other again until after the end of the world.

Indrid was sitting on the curb outside of the all-night diner. Mosquitos buzzed around his bare shoulders but did not bite. He’d been walking home along the dark highway, and the blend of neon and fluorescent lights leaking out of the big windows had been irresistible.

He heard the roar of a motorcycle before the headlight appeared around the bend. Someone in a yellow leather jacket and torn-up black jeans. They pulled into the parking lot of the diner and came to a stop right in front of Indrid. He saw his own face - sallow cheeks, round sunglasses - reflected in the opaque visor of their helmet, and wondered idly whether this was how other people felt looking at him.

Hollis pulled off their helmet and ran a hand through their hair, arranging it into their preferred state of dishevelment.

“Hello, Hollis,” said Indrid. Two futures stretched in front of him. Hollis might want to talk, or they might not.

“Long time no see.”

Indrid waited a beat before replying. It was still a conscious effort not to finish people’s sentences for them. “Yeah.”

During the apocalypse, Hollis was always the point of a V of motorcycles, but tonight they were alone.

“Where’s your…” Indrid could say gang, and Hollis would look sharply at him. Indrid could also say friends, and Hollis would laugh and say we’re a gang, old man. “Where are the rest of the Hornets?”

“Keith’s grandparents are in town, so he’s at home.” Hollis shrugged. “I don’t need an escort. You coming in, or what?”

Indrid pushed himself to his feet and followed Hollis into the brightly lit diner. The waitress sat them at a table near the window. The darkness beyond the dim parking lot was complete. It was like Indrid was a passenger on an ocean liner looking out into the Pacific at night, or rather that a bioluminescent sea had nothing on the darkness of thick pines.

Indrid flipped straight to the drinks section of the laminated menu and ordered an iced tea. Hollis seemed to know the waitress, joked with her, and there were a few futures where she flirted back, but it didn’t happen. Hollis asked for bacon and eggs and French toast and Mountain Dew.

They each had a paper napkin wrapped around a fork and knife and secured with a paper band. Hollis unwrapped theirs and laid the fork on the left side of their place setting, the knife on their right. The knife was thick and blunt, barely serrated, the kind of thing that could cut through eggs and pancakes but not anything sturdier without a fight.

Indrid’s compound eyes twitched. There were many possible futures, most of them benign, but in one Hollis gripped that knife white-knuckle hard and lunged across the table.

“Are you upset with me because I’m from Silvaine?” said Indrid quietly.

“What? No..” Hollis edged their hand away from the blunt dinner knife. “Why do you think I’m upset with you?”

“You’re thinking about attacking me.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks. Indrid dumped four sugar packets into his iced tea and stirred, watching the sugar swirl like flakes of snow. The futures shuffled.

Now he saw Hollis slashing at their own wrists, now holding the knife straight-up on the table and bringing their head down, forcing the metal through their own eye. The kind of violence Indrid hadn’t seen since the abominations.

“You can read my mind!?” said Hollis, angry but still speaking quietly enough that the waitress wouldn’t hear.

“No. I can see the future, or rather, all the possible futures, which means I can see what courses of actions you’re considering.”

“Considering is a strong word. I don’t want to do anything to you. It just… occurred to me that I could.”

Indrid sucked on his straw. Sugar crunched between his teeth. Now, teeth, that was something it’d taken him a long time to get used to.

“My therapist calls them intrusive thoughts,” Hollis continued. “I hate it.”

Indrid nodded. “Good to know you don’t want to kill me. It’d take more than a dinner knife, anyway.”

Hollis pressed their hands palm-down on the table, fingers splayed. “Am I going to hurt someone?”

“Well, just because I can see the possibility doesn’t mean it’ll ever become reality. The choice is always yours.”

The waitress came back with Hollis’ food. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat?” she said to Indrid. “More iced tea?”

“More tea, please,” he said, and passed her his glass, which was now empty except for ice and undissolved sugar.

“So you’re telling me,” said Hollis, loading their fork with egg, “that you can see the future, and you’re still living in Kepler, West Virginia? You could be in a penthouse in Vegas, drinking iced tea out of a crystal wine glass. You could be absolutely drowning in pussy. Or dick. Whatever.”

“I won my Winnebago playing poker.”

“And you didn’t aim higher?”

“Nobody in Kepler will play me anymore.” Now Indrid was getting irritated. Who was Hollis to chastise him for lack of ambition? He'd moved all the way to another planet. He was the red light between the trees, the sound of wingbeats in the summer night, the silhouette on the trembling bridge. “Why are you still here?”

Hollis waved their hand dismissively. “I’ve been to New York, and I think I’m more suited to the big fish in a small pond lifestyle. I’m not interested in not being the best-looking, coolest person in town.”

“I have to exert conscious effort every second of every day not to be unacceptably strange. I can’t take my sunglasses off in public, ever, and my bedroom walls have dents from times they’ve fallen off when I’m asleep. I cannot afford to attract human attention.”

“Have you ever been to a big casino?”

“No.”

“What if you had a spotter? I could go with you, or Keith and I, or whoever you’re comfortable with. You wouldn’t have to do all the talking, and we could split the profits.”

Indrid saw plush carpet and hotel Jacuzzis big enough for his other body, bartenders serving Shirley Temples twenty-four hours a day. “Get me a Hornets jacket and I’m in.”

#taz amnesty #taz hollis #indrid cold #so i wrote this way back in august and i have always wanted to continue it #so if anyone has any enthusiasm for this please let me know

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misc-headcanons · 4 years

Note

Congrats on 1100 followers!! May I request headcanons for Kisuke and Kenpachi trying to flirt with a clueless crush? My Bleach phase is coming back with a vengeance 👀👀

Kisuke

Kisuke finds his crush's clueless reactions to his flirtings kind of adorable in a way, even if he's at his wits end trying to get across his true feelings to them. Yeah, it's a bit soul-crushing when he realizes that his offer of a "handsome/beautiful customer" discount falls flat, but that just makes it more of a challenge to successfully flirt with them.

He's attracted to people who, even if they are incredibly smart, can sometimes be a bit ditzy or dense (sort of how he appears to be at the start of the series). So he enjoys it just a little when his flirtations fly over his crush's head. He'd try to make a game out of it, to see just how blatant he can get without just taking them by the shoulders and going "I HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU, DAMMIT".

He'll start small, with casual things like that aforementioned "beautiful/handsome customer discount" and then add more little discounts onto that: a free package of candy whenever they buy something as "an offer just for sweethearts like you"; a few flowers he genetically messed with to never wilt as a bonus gift to "his favorite flower--____!"...none of these things clue his crush in.

Jinta gets so grossed out by the old man's blatant flirting that he just stops ____ outside the store and bluntly tells them that Kisuke has a crush on them. If they expressed any surprise, Jinta would just sigh and tell them to either let Kisuke know they like him back or let him down easy, because these friggin' "discounts" are cutting into his free candy quota for the month (he and Ururu get to eat whatever isn't sold after a while, but now Kisuke's just throwing it away for free!? Unacceptable).

Kisuke was a bit disappointed that he'd been found out before he got the chance to give ____ a new discounted item: it's a set of small fireworks that, when lit, spell out a message in bright colored sparks so that even ____ could understand: "Hey ____, would you want to go out on a date with me? ♡ Kisuke". Still, he got his date in the end, and many more to come!

Kenpachi

Kenpachi Zaraki has the subtlety of a train crash on a boat, and then that boat crashing into an island and exploding. So you would think that he would be the most blatant person ever when it comes to flirting with someone. The thing is...Kenpachi hasn't ever really "flirted" before. I mean he's had some one night stands and might have had something going on with Unohana, but those are both very different to this kind of situation.

He stares intently at his crush a lot, and assumes that's what you do when you show someone you're interested in them. I mean, he wouldn't look this intensely at someone he didn't care about, right? Unfortunately, this just unnerves his crush since Kenny staring intently at them is less heart-melting and more fucking terrifying. They think they've done something to anger him or that he wants to fight them, so they wind up avoiding him as much as possible.

Yachiru catches on to Kenny's feelings pretty quickly, and she offers to help. Kenpachi accepts, since he realizes that his idea didn't work out well. Yachiru's only exposure to romance is through manga and books and whatnot (mainly stuff she's stolen from Yumichika and read--the dude loves beautifully drawn shojo romance manga) So at her advice, Kenny writes his crush a note. Yachiru said to write straight from the heart, so he tries his best to do that.

Unfortunately, Kenny's handwriting is atrocious and his message from the heart is...unnerving. Not what you'd read in a romance story, but more typical of a horror one. His crush finds the note under a small rock on their doorstep the next day, scrawled in dark ink and with a few bloodstains on it (Kenny was eating steak at the time he wrote it, you see): "I like watching you. You're soft, but not in a way that pisses me off. You're damn good in a fight, and I love watching you sweat in the heat of a battle; you look even prettier than usual."

Yumichika and Ikkaku would be quietly observing their superiors bumble their way through this whole "confessing a crush" scenario and decide to help their captain and lieutenant. Yumichika would slyly chat with ____ and ask if they knew who had a thing for them, and ____ would be shocked that anyone had a crush on them. When Yumichika said that "someone" was Kenpachi, ____ would assume that this was some kind of prank. But when Yumichika and Ikkaku explained the letter and the staring thing, they managed to get through ____'s obliviousness and offer to help set them up so ____ could find out for themselves.

Ikkaku just marches ____ up to Kenpachi and asks his captain if he wrote a note to them, and Kenny would bluntly say yes. And when Ikkaku asked (on ____'s behalf) if it was supposed to be threatening, Kenpachi would get confused--and a bit pissed at Ikkaku for prying into his business--and then haul ____ off to talk to them privately about why he wrote them that letter.

Yumichika made a big show of pulling Ikkaku away so their captain could have privacy, but the two of them listened in on the whole conversation; when ____ said that they actually liked him back, Yumichika and Ikkaku had to clamp their hands over each other's mouths to keep from cheering for their captain.

"HE'S GOT A S/O! AAAAAAH, I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE THE DAY! They look so cute together...well, I could never call Captain Zaraki 'cute' but...aaah, I can't believe it!"

"I know! Man, and he's with such a looker, too. Of course someone as badass as him would wind up with a knockout, right? Luckyyyy~!"

#bleach #bleach headcanon #bleach headcanons #kenpachi #kenpachi zaraki #kisuke #kisuke urahara #mine

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Sugar, Sugar (Five)

Drum roll please... we actually mention a brief bit of real plot this chapter. See that? The story won’t just be plotless stuckony shenanigans. There’s Real Things that might eventually happen.

MASTERLIST HERE

*************

“Tony?” Pepper used her keys to open the door to Sweet Peach Bakery and then locked it behind her. No one was on the street at six am, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. “Hey Tony? Where are you?”

“Office!” came the muffled answer, and with a quick stop to grab a still warm croissant off a tray, Pepper hurried her way towards the back of the shop.

“What are you doing here so early?” She asked, and then, “And oh my god this croissant is so good, when did you start making these?”

“Didn’t make them.” Tony’s hair was reaching excessive heights of fluffiness this morning and Pepper had to push the mess down just so she could smoosh a kiss to his forehead. “Had a distributor come by with samples. Croissants that just need to be proofed, pre filled turnovers, all that sort of thing. On one hand, I will never have enough time to make croissants from scratch so this is a good alternative. On the other hand, I actually cried putting pre made, frozen bread into the over this morning to bake.”

“Well, these are delicious, and I think you’re being dramatic and ridiculous.” Pepper perched on the edge of Tony’s desk, poking curiously at a frosting bag full of something chocolate. “What’s this?”

“Guinness and cocoa.” Tony kept scribbling at purchase forms. “The flavor is supposed to get better the longer it sits so I’ve got a timer and I’m tasting once an hour to see if I notice an improvement.”

“Mm-hmm” Pepper raised her eyebrows curiously. “Sounds... delicious and like something I’ll be eating immediately. Oh hey, tell me about your date with Steve and Bucky last night.”

“It wasn’t a date.” Tony said absentmindedly. “And uh, it went an awful lot like this.”

The frosting bag splgrhrhrd-ed when he pushed at it, a blurt of frosting falling thick and creamy all over the desk.

“Tony!” Pepper screeched and Tony retorted, “Hey! You asked how it went, that’s how it went! That sorta noise and everything!”

“TONY!”

“You knew who I was when you decided to love me.”

“Oh for fucks sake--” Pepper swiped a finger through the frosting and sucked it into her mouth. “I’m mad that I’m eating this after you said that, but this is honestly amazing.”

“Good and guinnessy?”

“Enough that I feel like I could get drunk if you hadn’t cooked the alcohol out of it.”

“Well here, I can solve that for.” Tony felt around under his desk and puled a can of beer out, cracked the top and pushed it his favorite Bridezilla. “Drink up.”

“It’s six o clock in the morning, Tony.” Pepper protested, but when he only looked at her, she sighed and took a sip. “You encourage me to do terrible things. Between the beer and the croissants and the cupcakes, I’ll never fit into my wedding dress.”

Tony finally pushed the forms aside and tasted the frosting himself. “My god, this is good. I’m a genius. And don’t worry about your dress. You got a corset back gown for exactly this occasion. Ten pounds cos I won’t stop feeding you isn’t going to ruin anything. You are the most radiant bride at any wedding, in any city, at any size.”

“I love you very much.” Pepper stuffed the last bite of croissant into her mouth and gave him another kiss. “Which brings me to the actual point of my visit.”

“Is this about Rhodey’s bachelor party?”

“It’s about Rhodey’s bachelor party.” she confirmed. “He gave me a list of all the unacceptable activities you’ve threatened him with in the last three months, he also gave me a list of all unacceptable locations for his party, as well as a list of colors he doesn’t want to see...”

The pretty redhead pulled out several pieces of paper from her purse and shuffled through them. “Oh, here’s the color one. It um-- it only has one word on it.”

“Is the word neon?” Tony grinned. “ With a circle around and multiple lines through it?”

“Yes it is.”

“Excellent.”

“Tell me more about your non date.” Pepper put the lists away and went back to eating frosting. “Which one of them railed you and where did it happen. And don’t ruin my frosting by splooging it again, alright? Just once was bad enough.”

“I didn’t actually get railed.” Tony frowned a little. “Dunno if my apron game was off or my leggings weren’t quite thotty enough--” Pepper snorted. “-- or what. But Steve got down on his knees and quite literally sucked my brain out through the hole in my--”

“ANTHONY EDWARD STARK!”

“--in my frosting bag while Bucky got up behind me and tried to fuck me through my pants. And I definitely thought they’d strip me naked and help me ruin my new couches, but after I finished they just sorta...” Tony shrugged. “Kissed me? Kissed each other? Told me they’d see me tonight and then left.”

“Wait wait wait.” Pepper held up her hand to stop his rambling. “So these two amazingly hot men--”

“--like stupidly hot, yeah.”

“-- are into you. The blond gets down on his knees to give you a blow job while the brunette tries to get you pregnant over your pants--”

“-- i love you for phrasing it like that.”

“-- and then when you’re ready to reciprocate, they leave?”

“Yeah.” he frowned a little. “Yeah, I don’t get it. I mean, I showed them my new couches and everything. I wore low rise leggings and my frilliest apron and made that weird noise I make when I finish way more intense than I expected to? All signs pointed to ‘stay here and let me ride you’ and they left.”

“I feel like showing people couches and making weird noises aren’t really valid forms of communication.” she pointed out, and Tony retorted, “I’ve seen you cross your legs in a specific way and Rhodey practically strips right then and there. Don’t talk to me about valid forms of communication.”

“I’m just saying--!” Pepper raised her voice when Tony started laughing. “I’m just saying, maybe instead of provocatively mentioning furniture and using aprons for flirting, you use your words like a damn adult and tell those boys what you want from them!”

“But I don’t want anything from them.” He maintained. “Except to quite literally ride Bucky’s face and see what that mouth do, and also to bent over and broke in half by Steve’s dick. I didn’t even get to see it last night but his old man khaki’s don’t leave a whole lot to the imagination so... yep. I think we’re fine.”

“All that lovely imagery aside.” Tony laughed again when Pepper rubbed at her temples like she had a headache already. “You’ve spent the better part of a month seeing them every single night, the better part of a month talking to me and James about them... would it be the worst to admit that maybe you do want something from them?”

Tony clenched his jaw, and just that quickly every bit of easy going was stripped from their morning together.

“I’m not trying to make you mad, honey.” Pepper softened her voice and reached for Tony’s hand. “But I know you so so well and I know you fall in love really quickly and I also know-- no no no, Tony wait!”

Tony pushed away from the desk and headed back into the bakery and Pepper scrambled after him. “Tony! Just wait a second!”

“You are not allowed to talk to me about how quickly I fall in love.” Tony grabbed the tray of pre made croissants and tossed them in the trash, throwing the pan down with a clang. “You are not allowed to tell me I want more than-- than sex from Steve and Bucky. Cos I don’t. And even if I did--”

“Oh Tony--”

“-- even if I did!” he yelled. “You aren’t allowed to say it because you promised-- after Italy, you promised--”

“Okay stop.” Pepper grabbed his hands before Tony went for a knife to start chopping up fruit. “Tony stop. I’m sorry I said anything, alright? You’re right, I shouldn’t say that and after Italy I promised I wouldn't say anything.”

“But?” Tony challenged. “But? Because I know there’s one. What else are you going to say?”

“...that maybe the fact that you’re so mad right now means I’m probably right?” Pepper finished in a whisper. “But I am sorry for saying anything. Sorry. Don’t be mad at me, you know I love you.”

“... I love you too.” Tony finally relaxed and Pepper leaned in to kiss him gently. “And I’m sorry for getting so mad. I just-- still a little sore, yeah? Still a little sore.”

“I know you are.” She held him close for a long minute. “I won’t tell Rhodey, alright? This whole thing is just between me and you.”

“Thanks.” Tony paused. “I’m doing neon for Rhodey’s bachelor party though. I already ordered three hundred glow sticks, several gallons of shockingly colored body paint and the ugliest fedora’s ever and I’m not returning them.”

“Yep, that’s fair.”

“...all I want from Steve and Bucky is sex.” he said again, softer this time. “It’s sort of gross how much they love each other and I’d never try to get in the way of that. They are so sweet together and I can’t figure out why the hell they’d need to spice up their sex life by adding me but I’m definitely not complaining. The last month has been super fun and honestly after the year I’ve had, fun is all I can handle right now.”

“Okay sweetheart.” Pepper plucked one of the croissants off the top of the pile and took a big bite. “I love you, okay? I’ll call you tonight if you aren’t busy emptying your frosting bag onto Steve’s face.”

“Oh no, it’s Bucky’s turn for that mess.”

Pepper laughed herself right out of the bakery and half way down the street before the giggles finally subsided, and the moment they did, she picked up her phone to call her fiancee.

“Hey baby.”

“It’s been an entire year and it honestly doesn’t occur to Tony that Steve and Bucky are hanging around for any other reason than to spice up their sex life.”

“It’s six thirty in the morning, Pep. Why are we talking about Tony’s sex life?”

“Well I--”

“No actually, that’s not that weird. What’s weird is that you’re talking about Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass at six thirty in the morning. You know my rule. We can talk about Tony but we cannot talk about whatever idiot Tony is banging.”

“Idiots, in this case my love.” Pepper corrected. “And I don’t actually care about them. What I do care about is that Tony is still so damaged that it doesn’t occur to him that he’s good for anything other than something fun for a couple.”

“Well, he tells them he only wants something fun.”

“And you’ve known Tony way too long to think that’s true in any way, shape, or form. Tony falls in love with the people who bring him coffee cos they smile at him. There’s no way he doesn’t desperately want to be in a relationship again.”

“Pep.” Rhodey groaned on the other line. “You weren’t here when Tony first came home from Italy. You know Isabella fucked him up, but you have no idea how deep it goes, alright? If he says he just wants fun with the Tweedles, let him lie to himself and to us and to whoever else he wants to cos Tony needs to at least pretend he’s okay, alright?”

“But--”

“Did you tell him no neon at my bachelor party?”

Pepper pursed her lips. “Yes. Yes I told him, and yes he promised to listen.”

“It’s something involving terrible fedoras, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Man, I hate fedoras.”

****************

“Heya baby-cakes.” Bucky had a super soft smile for his very sleepy boyfriend when Steve finally made it out of bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I have the worst case of blue balls in the world.” Steve stretched and yawned and Bucky watched with no small amount of interest as all that skin lit up in the morning sun. “How is it that Tony got a blow job last night and you got a blow job last night but I did not get a blow job last night?”

“Hmmm.” Bucky waggled his eyebrows and took a big bite of his breakfast. “Seems’ta me if you would’a came in your pants like history has shown ya do, your balls wouldn’t hurt.”

“Seema’ta me you should quit mouth fucking that peach and join me in the shower so I don’t have to jerk off alone like a damn teenager.” Steve retorted. “M’standing here naked Buck. I’m dating you for a reason and it’s not cos you’re brilliant. Get the hell in there.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Bucky finished slurping at the fruit and tossed the pit away. “You want a blow job or for me to fuck you stupid?”

“Would it kill you to be a little bit romantic?”

“You wanna be romantic or do you want me to get you off? You can’t have it both ways, Stevie. That ain’t the way th’world works.”

“Seriously, why do I love you?” Steve yanked Bucky’s pajama pants down and pulled him into the water. “And not on the same page at all, I was sorta surprised you let me have Tony last night. Figured you’d be all over that.”

“Wanted to watch you and Tony together.” Bucky grunted when Steve pushed the soap into his hands and then all but humped at his thigh impatiently. “Sure was gorgeous. You were sorta suffocating when he finished, but you should’a heard the noises Tony made. Fuckin’ beautiful. And you got all flushed and pretty and greedy with it? Love that, baby. So hot.”

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Steve threw his head back and gasped when Bucky closed a slick palm around him. “Okay but next time with Tony--”

“Stop talking and let me take care of you.” Bucky interrupted, wrapping a strong arm around Steve’s waist and holding him steady. “Or do you still wanna be halfway to dyin’ when we sit down and talk about all the ways I’m gonna juice Tony’s peach the first chance I get?”

“Fuck--” Steve screwed his eyes up tight. “You gonna-- fuck, Bucky. Is that why you were eating a peach this morning? Practicing?”

“Please baby doll.” Bucky drawled, gripping hard at Steve’s ass and working his fingers in exactly where the blond needed them. “I don’t need any practice, you know damn well I can eat a peach for hours.”

....

...later, after Steve had come embarrassingly fast thinking about Bucky eating Tony’s peach for hours-- later, they switched spots under the warm spray so Steve could work shampoo into Bucky’s long hair, scratching at his scalp and smiling fondly when the big brunette basically purred over it.

“You’re a sap.” he informed him, and Bucky tossed back, “Says the guy who’s barely standing after blowing the tip of his dick off. It was a hand job, Stevie. Not even my best work.”

“Fuck off.” Steve said tiredly. “Let’s talk about last night. Did you notice--”

“-- how disappointed Tony looked when we left?” Bucky finished. “Sure did. You don’t think he took it personal, do you? Just feel like maybe a bakery isn’t the right place to get nekkid, you know?”

“Yeah I feel like Tony would regret letting us mess up his bake table.” Steve agreed. “And it’s not like we ran outta there, we stayed and kissed for a while until he wasn’t so loopy.”

“I think it’s alright.” Bucky decided. “Course since he won’t give us his damn phone number we can’t text or nothin’ to make sure his feelings weren’t hurt but we’ll see him tonight.”

“Gonna fuck him tonight?”

“I dunno.” he answered honestly. “Feel like the first time we really hook up should be where there’s a bed, right? Blow jobs behind th’counter are one thing, full on getting humpy with it--” Steve cackled with laughter and Bucky grinned. “-- should be somewhere soft and somewhere where the mess isn’t a health code violation, yeah?”

“Do you think he’s as crazy about us as we are about him?” Steve asked then. “I mean, we went from ‘all we need is each other’ to practically climbing over each other to get to Tony. Think he cares even a little bit?”

“He’s gotta care a little bit.” Bucky ducked back under the water to rinse the suds away. “Don’t think it’s anything serious though. Only been like a month, Stevie. Nothin’ serious can happen in a month.”

“We were in love in a month.”

“No, after a month we’d hit thirty solid days of my dick in your ass.” Bucky countered. “It was at least another month before we even managed a real date, Stevie. That wasn’t love that was-- that was you bein’ way too hot and me not knowin’ the meaning of the words ‘at ease’.”

“Say what you want.” Steve kissed Bucky’s nose gently. “But I know full well you were head over heels in love with me.”

“Lies.” Bucky kissed him right back. “Absolute fuckin’ slander. Take it back right now.”

“Oh honey.” Steve budged closer and kissed him again, sweeping his fingers into Bucky’s hair and holding him close for a long time, brushing his fingers over Bucky’s cheekbones and murmuring soft things when Bucky went real soft against him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Bucky said gruffly. “Since the first time you let me at your apple.”

“..my butt is an apple?”

“Could bounce a quarter off it baby. Buns of steel but still so so juicy!”

“Damn it, Bucky.”

****************

“Hey guys.” Tony was still working on chocolate and guinness frosting when Bucky and Steve showed up that night. “How’s it going?”

“Stevie’s got blue balls and I’ve been thinkin’ bout your butt all day.” Bucky grabbed onto Tony’s apron strings and yanked him in for a thorough, messy kiss. “How about you?”

“I’ve got to finish this frosting and rewrite my recipe so it doesn’t look like chicken scratch and thennnnnn....” Tony laughed softy when Steve gave him an equally thorough kiss. “.... then I think we should do something about Steve’s blue balls. New couches?”

“Super excited to ruin your new couches, yep.” Bucky eyed the mixing bowl curiously. “Is that something I can eat?”

“It’s something you can smear on my tummy and lick off.” Tony called over Steve’s shoulder as the blond backed him towards the office. “Or on my butt! Or on my-- Ack! Steve! STEVE!”

Laughter from the office and a quiet oof! as they hit the couch and Bucky plucked a big spatula from a nearby box to scoop up a healthy serving of Tony-tummy appropriate frosting.

And then when he heard Steve sigh and groan, his already deep voice doing that velvet thing Bucky loved so much, he paused for a second to listen to Tony’s breathy answer, a happy giggle and a sweet sweet moan that sounded halfway adoring.

.... oh man does Tony sort of love us?

*****************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

****************

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#ncts fics #stuckony #stucky #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #pepper potts #james rhodey rhodes

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thecursedhellblazer · 4 years

Text

‘Cause We’re Living in a Mad World

{ @adventurepunks }

(( Hiiii! I fished this out of a couple of memes I had done ages ago and...it seemed fun and it gave me the chance to ramble about stuff we mentioned, so...here you go! It’s mostly Nick and John, but I throw in some Zee because the gal deserves some space :3 ))

Who said “I love you” first Definitely John. He was either drunk or totally out of it for not having slept in days (or both) and Nick had been forced to escort his sorry ass to lie down somewhere. Among all the incomprehensible, nonsensical babbling he had been doing, at some point he had just gone on and mumbled something on the lines of “N’ aye, tha’ th’ bloody t’in’, Cap. I think I do love yeh...I bloody do”. By the time Nick had registered the non-sequitur, John had been out cold and drooling very much unattractively on his pillow, leaving his mentor to wonder, hardly for the first time, what the hell he was supposed to do about his disaster youth.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background Neither of them does. John doesn’t have a phone (and that’s the reason why both Nick and Zatanna dread the times he uses the one in the Sanctum to phone Chas back to London...Two hours of non-stop Scouse rambling about everything one can find worth complaining about). As for Nick, he simply doesn’t bother with such things. However, John has one, slightly creased picture of him and Nick (a Polaroid taken by accident by some tourist who had been nice enough to hand it over to John) and another with the two them and Zee glued against the wall of his bedroom, right next to a group photograph of his closest English mates, a picture of him and Chas and a black and white one of a younger Cheryl. Also, Zatanna has made sure to have a better, properly framed picture of the three of them hanging inconspicuously from one of the walls in the main room of the Sanctum, not enough to catch the eye, but in a position that makes sure that you must look at it if you know that it’s there. Nick never acknowledged any of those, but you might catch his eyes wandering in the direction of the pictures every time he is in the room with them (yes, at times he dares to wonder in that reign of chaos that’s John’s bedroom).

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror John...when he is trying to be funny. Usually he writes the messages on some other window or piece of glass and then magicks them on the bathroom mirror when he knows that either Nick or Zatanna are inside. Of course, he doesn’t always get it right and at times the wrong person receives a message that wasn’t intended for them. Like Nick finding questions about women lingerie (he never asks, because he is pretty sure that, whatever John wants with it, it’s not something he wants to know or guess). The most memorable mishap, at least in Zee’s opinion, has been when, after having come back from one of her shows at 3 am and after a very much earned shower, she had found herself staring at the suddenly foggy mirror while the words “wudl u shag me een if I ws a gost?” materialised on it. Judging by the bad spelling and by how smeared the calligraphy was, John had to be shitface drunk, wherever he was. Not that the fact excused him in her eyes. Not in the least. She had marched out of the bathroom, told Nick that John wanted to talk to him and then had gone to bed. Useless to say, Nick had gone from confused to extremely unimpressed as soon as he had seen the note on the mirror.

Who buys steals the other cheesy gifts John is the one who, from time to time, comes back from his wanderings bearing “gifts”, pretty much like a not so domesticated cat would do. Thankfully, usually they aren’t dead animals (aside that one time with the still dripping goat’s head...but they don’t talk about it). They range from things he has won at the poker table to stuff he has either con out of someone’s hands or straight out nicked. He has learnt pretty quickly that he can’t tell Zatanna if he’s giving her something he has stolen, not after the one time she has forced him to return the necklace he had got her, much to his annoyance and embarrassment. This has also caused him to get more stuff for Nick than for her. She’s always suspicious now (and with reasons), while his mentor doesn’t really care how he has got his hands on it. The only one time the older sorcerer has shown concern about John’s kleptomaniac habits has been when the younger man brought home a very ancient, very valuable, and also very cursed book. The cleansing ritual took them hours. However, on the other hand, it turned out that the contents of said tome were very much worth the trouble, so John got away with just a mild scolding, much to Zatanna’s incredulity.

Who initiated the first kiss Nick did...after John had driven him crazy with half angry flirting and ambiguous provocations (and talks about shagging ghosts). The whole situation had started from a lot of unresolved tension between them (and not of the good kind), but considering where it has landed them...It might as well have been worth it, even if the original issue lies still mostly unsolved.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning If anyone does in the first place, it would probably be Nick, for the mere reason that John isn’t an early bird (unless he simply forgoes sleeping completely), no matter in whose bed he falls asleep. However, it’s still far more likely that Nick chooses to wakes him up by shaking him or with a shove, simply because something as light as a kiss wouldn’t do the job. Or it would lead to John getting his hands busy even before he has opened his eyes and that’s unacceptable when they have a schedule and lessons to attend to. A few times, John has crawled in Nick’s bed before dawn and, in those occasions, he is the one to wake his mentor up with kisses. There’s an equal chance of either being kicked out of the room pr being allowed to carry on, and, in his eyes, the second thing is definitely worth facing the risk of rejection. John usually gets his nicest wake up calls from Zatanna, when she lures him out of the sheets with a kiss on the cheek and the promising smell of coffee and bacon. She has also learnt to throw a fresh pair of underwear in his face before walking back to the kitchen, though, because that’s the only way to make sure he doesn't show up stark nake for breakfast.

Who starts tickle fights Tickle fights aren’t something that happens frequently, but they did happen. Mostly when they were all at least a bit tipsy. John started the very first one, almost accidentally, by rambling about how Cheryl used to tickle him till he cried and couldn’t breathe as a payback for when he messed with her things. Useless to say, that led him to ask Zatanna if she was ticklish and to the poor homo magi being assaulted. Nick had made the mistake to declare that he found the whole affair “undignified”, which had been enough to make John tackle and tickle him too. Zatanna might have retaliate, on them both (John for starting it, Nick for not defending her), even though, if asked, she would deny it. After that episode, both Zatanna and Nick have become very, very wary of whenever John is drunk and feeling both touchy-feely and playful. Of course, he still manages to find a way to catch them both off guard.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower John’s “asking” consists in him sticking his head inside the bathroom (or straight past the shower curtain) and make comments about how there’s just enough room for another person under the stream or about how great he is at scrubbing backs, full trademark smirk in place. Nick usually asks before anyone gets in the shower and it usually happens after a very intense roll in the sheet when all the participants might use a wash up. However, there have been times when he has just hopped in the shower while John was already in it, without warnings or questions, because the smug idiot can use a taste of his own medicine from time to time. The main issue with that tact is that John, after the initial moment of astonishment, always gets a bit too mesmerised to really grasp the lesson.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch Nick can get completely absorbed in his studying and researches and John at times forgets that human beings need to eat to survive, so it’s definitely Zee. When she is around, she makes sure to bring them both, if not a full meal, at least a snack twice a day. She has found that it usually also prevents John from raiding their fridge during the night and, considering how messy that affair gets, it’s a very good thing. When Zatanna isn’t around, Nick is the one who has a more “regular” (if it can be called that) routine, so he takes over the task of keeping them both fed (also because John can’t be trusted around the kitchen at). There are times, though, when John knocks at Nick’s door, after making sure that the older man is done with whatever he’s doing, with takeaway already laid down at the table or saying that he has discovered a new pub that makes nice steaks or pizza and that they should totally go and try it out.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date Definitely John, even if, as per usual, he covered it up with cockiness and smugness. Especially since he felt like a idiot for being nervous in the first place. He and Nick had gone out plenty of times together (with and without Zatanna), so sharing a night that was perhaps a bit more intimate shouldn’t have been such a big deal. And yet, he still spent an incredibly long amount of time (especially for his standards) tidying himself up in the bathroom and deciding which of his clothes were more suitable for the occasion. It earned him a few raised eyebrows from Nick’s part, which made it clear to them both that the older man knew, but John obviously refused to acknowledge both the gestures and the fact.

Who kills/takes out the spiders Spiders are usually either left to mind their business. Zatanna might use her magic to coax them out of a window when they are in the way, but for the rest no one really cares. It doesn’t happen too often that they manage to get inside the Sanctum, so when they do...it’s safe to say that they have earned their right to stay. There are times, though, when the poor creatures become the unfortunate subjects of John’s practice. Once he has learnt how to open portals towards other realms, it has become very much not unusual to see him trying to shove the spiders inside very small rips in the fabric of reality. Nick has pointed out that he has no way to find out whether or not he has managed to send them where he was planning to, but he has soon given up trying to make John see his point, because his words always earn him nothing but a snicker.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk John, even if calling his drunk claims “love declarations” would be pushing it. For the most, what leaves his lips are comments about his and Nick alone time together and far too bold to be nice compliments. And, if he is really in the mood, also short rants about what he would love for them to do that they haven’t tried yet. Whenever magic or the undead start being thrown in the mix, Zatanna takes it as her cue to dump him in Nick’s capable, even if exasperated, hands and go spend the rest of her night elsewhere. The real slips can happen after John has ceased being loud, when his mind is more in Dreamland than on the material plane. They are quiet whispers, compared to all the noise he makes before, and that alone is very telling of how much more sincere they are.

#john constantine #nick necro #zatanna zatara #long post #(( this is me upgrading the whole ))#(( 'let's find the guts to tag peeps' ))#(( so I'm showering you with my idiocy ))#(( hopefully the effort will make up for the stupid ideas ^^" ))#adventurepunks #* My reality is eleven tenths perception. * ::headcanons::#* Once Upon a Time We Three could have had the World * ::John&Nick&Zatanna::#* Show Me the Way and We'll remake Destiny in Our Image * ::John&Nick:: {adventurepunks}#sv. Every Shade between Darkness and Light

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“We’re used to death threats” 6 years after GamerGate, nothing has changed

(It’s impossible for me to continue playing Valorant. To be provoked, harassed, insulted as soon as people hear my voice, all of this because I’m a woman, is unacceptable. I won’t accept undergoing this constantly, and having to signal people constantly. I’m sickened.)

If for some years now, awareness of the bullying that women suffer from in all parts of society has been increasing, everyday changes appear to be barely noticeable.

The world of video games is one glaring example. Or how, behind the grand speeches, the life of female gamers hasn’t changed — maybe even got worse since GamerGate, an event that has triggered the first large-scale wave of online harassment against women.

In partnership with the YESSS podcast, Numerama investigated the sexism in the community of male and female gamers, with a saddening but certain report: since 2014 and GamerGate, nothing has changed. What we gathered from the dozens and dozens of testimonies that we collected, is that the daily life of women gamers is punctuated by these microaggressions. Tweet after tweet, insult after insult, from sexist comments to targeted bullying, these are individual actions that, when added up, create an incredibly violent wave of online harassment. A wave that swallow them again, day after day.

“Gamergate had set the tone”

“GamerGate had set the tone in regards to sexism, and this changed things” assesses Julie, who mostly plays on League of Legends. “When they discover that you are a girl, it’s rampage” adds Leiden, a World of Warcraft player: “As soon as you’re a girl, you’re gonna eat shit. There are comments like “You don’t know how to play (...)”, it’s a very common behavior on WoW…” Kash, who also plays MMORPG, laments that “toxic comments became the norm”. One example: during a session, the presence of three female players triggered a collective cackling from the members of her guild, who said that “the disabled quota has arrived”. “I told them that we were fed up with these kind of remarks, that is was not normal. They responded by saying it was just humor. (...) That’s really a bummer, because when the game launched, this didn’t exist, we were a community. I wasn’t judged based on my sex.”. “Playing as a woman, it’s a hassle” confirms Lisa*, tiredly “There is always some pig there to tell you to “go back to the kitchen””. Laughter always follows.

She however assesses that GamerGate did not launch online bullying. Gamers are known to vehemently defend their passion: “In 2005, a wave of online harassment had been launched against the very controversial Jack Thompson, an american lawyer who declared that shootings in the USA were the result of the violence of video games” Brad Glasgow, a journalist who then published a study on GamerGate, reminds us, now asked by Numerama. Some gamers at the time sent death threats to his home, or even developed games in which the objective was to hit the lawyer… What GamerGate changed, is adding a sexist aspect to online bullying, focusing hate and attacks on multiple women.

Between journalistic integrity and harassment

On August 16th 2014, Eron Gjoni, a 24 years old programmer, published on his blog “thezoepost”, a 9000-words vitriolic announcement, describing in detail how his now ex-girlfriend, Zoe Quinn, had cheated on him. The story could have ended there. But here is the deal: Zoe Quinn is an indie video game developer, and the man she cheated on him with is a journalist specialized in gaming-related press. That was everything gamers and the Internet needed to ignite: this man is writing for a journal which recently published a highly positive review of Zoe Quinn’s new game, Depression Quest. Between blogs, subreddits and 4chan, the GamerGate movement was born.

“They wanted to be able to continue playing with half-naked female characters without anyone saying something about it”

What did gamers really want? They would say that they were fighting for “more ethics in videogame reporting, less cronyism between developers and magazines” Brad Glasgow, who conducted a study on this subject, explains. “The gamergaters who I interviewed had the impression that the industry was pushing on them more censored, family-friendly games. They wanted to be able to continue playing with half-naked female characters without anyone saying something about it, and without being considered misogynists”. The GamerGate contributors were for a long time believed to be cliché young gamers, however Brad Glasgow’s study show that the median age was 30 years old, very different from the often depicted carefree youngsters. All the people targeted by the supporters of this movement were women. The victims and numerous reporters commented afterwards that GamerGate was never about claiming anything, but simply a way to express their hate and disdain towards Zoe Quinn. Zoe Quinn, as well as the video game creator Brianna Wu and blogger Anita Sarkeesian received so many rape, torture and death threats that they were forced to move out out of their homes, fearing for their lives. In the United States, this event was huge, so much that the New York Times described it as “the beginning on alt-right hegemony on the Internet”, and even as a culture war. In France, despite being covered by the media, it didn’t have such an impact outside of the affected community. The problem however, doesn’t only exist on the other side of the Atlantic. The blogger Marlard was talking, since 2013, about a "sick community", soaked in sexism, fetishizing Lara Croft’s new design, and, in the famous 18-25 forum on jeuxvideo.com, misogyny was already the rule. She was actually one of the first to receive numerous waves of online harassment for daring to point out the sexism in the world of video games.

A masculine universe

Why talk again about Gamergate today? Because six years later, despite the problem being under the spotlight and having media coverage, female gamers still suffer. Video games seem to stay a masculine universe, a space where the famous rule 30 of the Internet “on the Internet, there are no women” could be a reality. It’s nevertheless false: according to a IFOP study published in 2018, women play as much video games as men do.The Internet and Twitch are full of casual and professional gamers, like Kayane, Trinity, Little Big Whale, Zulzorander, Marie Palot…. But, inescapably, the presence of women in online games startles, surprises, annoys.

“Being misogynistic is trendy”

To insult women and social justice warriors (nickname given to anti-discrimination activists by their opponents) is still seen today as a way to make your audience laugh, to gain a place inside the boy’s club, sometimes even to become famous. French streamer Jean Massiet admits it: “Being misogynistic is trendy”.

(I’ve been streaming for 5 years and there is an absolute constant: being misogynistic is trendy, make your chat laugh by playing the rebel. To be feminist is to oppose retaliations and gatekeeping. Conformism really isn’t where most people think.)

The “young boy” trick to conceal your voice

One of the main problems encountered by female players online, is “vocal”, the act of talking with other members of the team to coordinate certain attacks during a game. In this moment, it’s impossible to hide behind the neutral usernames of characters typically associated with male players: “As soon as people hear that I’m a girl, it’s over. Many women don’t want to communicate because of it” reveals Lisa. “You really feel a difference in behavior when comparing the before and after.”

Julie, another player, explains that the “after” is often synonymous with saucy flirting. “Immediately, dudes will come talk to you in private, ask for pictures and lewd requests…” To avoid this, almost all the female players that we interviewed explained to us that they use the “young boy” trick: passing as a young male player whose voice has not dropped yet, to justify their high-pitched tone. Lying to stay undisturbed is a common strategy. Some even prefer playing with the account of their male partners, thus avoiding unrequited comments.

The #MeToo aftermath is even worse

But it’s not always sufficient. Kate laments that “The #MeToo movement created a mistrust”, revealing a violent rejection of the liberation of feminine and feminist voices. “It has become a PMU* (“PMU” or “Pari Mutuel Urbain” is a bar/gambling place chain. Nowadays it is synonymous for many people with armchair psychology, politics and chauvinist behaviors) Everytime you want to point out to players that they are making sexist comments, it’s always the same reaction “you can’t say anything nowadays”, ‘feminazi”....” Far from letting those concerned question themselves, it seems that the #MeToo movement has reinforced their aggravation, which then leads them to be even more defensive or to conduct gratuitous attacks, especially on Discord, a chat/vocal platform often used by players to communicate with each other.

“The memes are more aggressive, everyone jeers at feminists… There is some sort of frustration towards feminist awareness, a very violent reaction. It is even sometimes almost incel behavior,” explains Kash, referencing the men's rights activists movement of "involuntary celibates". “You won’t make friends talking about feminism” Nat’ali, streamer, confirms to us.

“#MeToo has revealed the privileges that men have, and they didn’t like seeing it”

She isn’t the only one who saw the situation getting worse after Gamergate and #MeToo. “Since I started playing in 2007, I truly saw the atmosphere deteriorate” Kash told us. “I saw more bullshit these last two years than in the ten years prior, "I now see things that dudes never dared to do before. The whole community got worse”. Lisa also observed the explosion of sexism after #MeToo. “It’s really then that I started hiding the fact that I was a woman. #Metoo has revealed the privileges that men have, and they didn't like seeing it. Don’t touch cis white hetero men, or you will get branded a fucking feminist, a whore, a feminazi.” Lisa reached the point of “not wanting to play anymore, too toxic. Gets on my nerves too quickly.” There is, too, a fear of underperforming: “I’m scared to play certain FPS (First Person Shooter, like Call of Duty) because I’m no very good at them, and I don’t want to help the belief that “girls sucks at video games” to persist” laments Nat’ali.

The liability of professional streamers

In the eyes of Julie, part of the problem resides in the fact that the gamer community is growing rapidly. “There are more and more gamers, and the newcomers are usually very young and very sexist. Even if some people change and gain understanding regarding this problem, they will be drowned by comments by teens that have no reflexion on sexism”.“ In addition to the jeuxvideo.com 18-25 forum, numerous streamers and professional players are accused of perpetuating sexism. As Numerama showed in a study made in April 2019, members of the Solary team, a french esport structure, have encouraged online harassment against several women, and have contributed in spreading sexist insults (a woman receiving compliments from a stranger, not responding to them and “calling them out on social media” is in their eyes a “whore”)

“It’s an environment in which men pat each other on the back”*

(Translator’s note: a more literal translation would be “men forgive each other” but the underlying idea in this sentence was that they allow themselves to forgive each other’s faults without actually hearing the people targeted.)

Sardoche, a League of Legends streamer and Twitch partner (video creators able to monetize their videos) has also been known for years for his very violent remarks against female players, that he calls “shitty little virgins” or “huge whores”. In addition to being aware about inciting his followers to harass, he often mocks feminist activists on twitter, and his followers always join the party. “The problem is that he is followed by a lot of boys that want to imitate him” Nat’ali tell us.

“Trolling feminists, best thing to do in the morning. Thanks to @MrKryorys for archiving these kinds of clips” Yet Sardoche is not called out, and can still enjoy the free publicity made by numerous other streamers, promoting him and condoning his unacceptable speeches. At the start of June however, the streamer announced that he was now suffering from online harassment on his Twitch lives, coming mostly from 18-25 users. These behaviors have no influence on the mentioned players’ and streamers’ careers. “They still don’t understand that they are participating to the trivialization of hatred against women” Nat’ali angrily adds “Sardoche is now co-hosting PopCorn, one of the most viewed programs on Twitch. It’s an environment in which men pat each other on the back.”

“One girl per team, no more”

This impunity is reinforced by the erasure of female players, firstly because some are reluctant to present themselves as women in online games, and secondly, because the professional environment is not giving them a platform. We call that “the quota effect”. “Those who want to become professional know that there is only one “girl” slot per team”. complains Nat’ali. This infamous “quota woman” reminds us of the “Lara Croft effect” a overused argument often put forward when criticism against the lack of female characters in video games arise: You got it wrong, look over here, there is one woman.

“At the beginning of big web TV, 7 or 8 years ago, there was a of of competition between female players. No sisterhood whatsoever, girls were awful with each other because they knew there wouldn’t be a spot for everyone” Nat’ali, who had seen the problem herself, continues.

Once hired, these female streamers still have a lot to face. A friend of Nat’ali told her last year that her team forced her to wear a mini-skirt during a marketing campaign. According to Leiden “People still see their female players as sexy props, instead of focusing on their playing skills”.

The ambience is now healthier, and “there is a real solidarity on Twitch between us, we talk a lot. With #MeToo, we understand that we needed to help each other. These topics have the spotlight, we feel more comfortable talking about them. Dudes still behave the same, but the relationship between female players changed. This is the big victory of #MeToo.”

“Streamers need to question themselves”

Should we see this whole problem as unsolvable? For Aurélie, “in practice men are not yet supportives. The knowledge is here, we know that “sexism is bad” But if you point out that a comment is sexist, they will immediately jump and respond that no, it’s just humor”. There are many hard to unlearn habits,” Lisa remarks: “It’s the patriarchal structure: nice guys sometimes have awful reactions. It’s rooted inside of them, they don’t even realize what they’re doing.” For all of the interviewees, the education of men regarding these problems is the solution. Kash affirms: “This men-only community create a unease. Streamers need to be the example. They need to question themselves, and they shouldn’t hesitate to take clear stances regarding this.” Still, it would be easier if these stances were the norm, and taking them was not a risk.

“When you keep talking to them about it, our male friends realize the problem” Lisa happily notices. One of Kash’s friends, with whom she’s been playing for years, has evolved a lot despite starting as “mostly uninterested in the sexism problem in games”. After our interview, she decided to talk to him about her experience, and he listened to her testimony. “Last week, during a raid in which I didn’t introduce myself, a player made a sexist remark about the body of a woman. My friend told me he felt uncomfortable and talked to the guild leader about it. Nothing happened, the player wasn’t sanctioned, but I’ve known my gamer friend for 11 years and it was the first time he reacted like that. So I’m hopeful!”

Aurore Gayte for Numerama

*names have been changed This article was created in partnership with the YESSS podcast. .Their latest creation, "Warriors and Games" is available here. Every month, the YESSS team gathers testimonies of women who triumphed against sexism: those who responded, who corrected, who snapped and resisted. YESSS is a podcast for warriors, positive and decidedlyfeminist. It is conceived and hosted by Margaïd Quioc, Elsa Miské et Anaïs Bourdet, produced by the Popkast label in Marseille.

#gaming #gamergate #sexism #radfem #radfem safe #feminism #video games sexism #sardoche #numerama #gatekeeping #french radblr #french to english #rad-translations #radical feminism

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