#i still think that someone took their limited time on this earth to count my yoyos... who are you anon...?
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Safe and Sound
Jack Harlow Masterlist
Request: I really like the idea that Jack always leaves his girl in the "care" of one of his inner circle whenever he gets pulled away at an event. Like he's gotta go on stage or go to another area of the venue and she can't come, so gets his good luck kiss and when he says bye to Like Clay or Urban, he just whispers in his ear "keep an eye on her" or "keep her close" or "watch out for my girl". Like she probably doesn't even know that he does it, and that's kinda what makes it all the more heart warming. Like yes, the area is private and there's probably security around, but the fact that when he can't physically be there to protect her, he turns to his best friend or brother to keep the most important person in his life safe.
Warnings: language
For as long as Jack could remember, the only thing he wanted to be was a rapper. He ate, slept, and breathed music for over a decade trying to make a name for himself, and while it took a while, everything he poured into himself and his career came back to him tenfold, and sometimes he couldn't believe how lucky he was. The good: amazing fans, financial security, and getting to live his dream definitely outweighed the bad, so he took everything in stride.
There were definitely times where he wished he could leave the house without being recognized, or didn't have a security team on his heels wherever he went, but that was the name of the game, and he'd make the sacrifice over and over again to be where he is now.
He didn't hold the same expectations for the ones that he loved, though.
While his friends and family understood that Jack Harlow was no longer just a kid from Louisville, and their lives were going to change along with his, Jack wasn't willing to put them in harms way for his sake. He could deal with the crazy fans, the big crowds of people, and the lack of privacy, because that's what he signed up for, but his people were off limits.
It also meant that the circle of people that he could trust was incredibly small, and honestly, he liked it that way. He knew that he could count on the people that stood to the left and the right of him, and that made all of the craziness a lot easier to deal with.
When you and Jack started dating, you were so caught up in the whirlwind of being in a relationship with someone you respected and cared for so much, you hardly noticed how much your life was changing. You'd never been with someone famous, let alone someone as famous as Jack, and while you were still getting used to the security team who accompanied you on some of your dates, waiting in the wings while you ate dinner or watched a movie, for the most part, your life was surprisingly normal. You were always a very headstrong person who valued their independence, and you were glad that your relationship allowed you to hold onto a semblance of control or Jack's lifestyle might have sent you running for the hills.
You thought it was a testament to the type of person Jack was and the life he led, down to earth and understated, but you had no idea how creative he had to get to keep you safe.
"What do you think of this top?" You twirled in front of your phone that you had propped up on your dresser, with Jack on FaceTime. He let out a long yawn before he narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the sheer blouse you were holding up to your form. "Looks good", he mumbled out, throwing himself on his hotel bed. It was only 8:15PM in Louisville, but 1:15AM in London where Jack currently was for work, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open while the two of you caught up on your days.
"Only good?", you asked as you gave it a second look in your mirror, a frown on your face. "I don't want to just look good tonight."
Jack ran a hand down his face as he let out a deep chuckle. "Ok, you look very good. Was that more convincing?"
"No", you answered curtly, tossing the top onto your bed before going back into your closet. You came back out wear a simple black sweater. "What about this one?"
"Uh, maybe just lift the bottom up a little bit." Jack directed you with his hand in an upward motion, and you lifted the shirt up around your belly button in a makeshift crop top. "Just a little more." You pulled the shirt over your bra, not quite understanding. "Jack, what are you doing?"
"Just a little bit more." You pulled it up over your head, your arms held up in the air. "Good now take it all the way off so I can see you without anything on." You let out a huff when you caught onto his joke, flipping him off in the camera. "You're an ass, you know that?" Jack could barely hear you over the roar of his own laughter, tickled with his own joke. "Where are you going anyway? I thought you were staying in tonight?" You could hear the apprehension in Jack's tone.
"Please, Jack, don't start." You let out a huff, knowing where he was going with this. "I'm going out with a couple of friends to a bar to celebrate Gigi's birthday, and then coming home, okay?" You had a run in with a crazed fan while out one night a couple of weeks ago, and while you were shaken up in the moment, the incident was long forgotten, in your mind at least. Jack was away from work, and the fact that he wasn't there to protect you, and you had no security around made his stomach turn.
"I can call Dave and he can be at your apartment in like 10 minutes. I'd feel a lot better if you let my security team go with you." Jack was trying his best not to be overprotective, but he couldn't help it when it came to you.
"And I'd feel a lot better if you trusted me." You gave him a pouty lip and he folded immediately, letting out a exasperated sigh. "Fine, but please text me when you get there and get back home, okay? Even if I don't answer right away."
"Okay promise. I love you, babe." You threw on a graphic tee and leather jacket before blowing a kiss to Jack, hanging up with him, and grabbing your purse to head out the door.
The bar was packed for a Thursday night, pop music blasting over the speakers as you made your way through the crowd, finding a table at the back of the room. You weren't scared to run into another fanatic, but you also wanted to play it safe, knowing it would give you and Jack piece of mind. You snapped a selfie of you and your friends and sent it off to Jack as confirmation you made it safe.
"Well look who it is!' You lowered your phone to see Urban and Clay smiling back at you, beers in both of their hands.
"What are you two doing here?", the inflection in your voice signifying your genuine confusion to see Jack's best friend and brother standing in front of you. You were very surprised to see them here, considering that a dive bar was neither of theirs scene.
"Can't two people enjoy a couple drinks at a bar on a Thursday night?" Urban slid into the booth next to you, wringling into his spot, Clay following in behind him.
"Two people, yes, you two, no. If I remember it correctly, you said
"bars like this are contributing to the collapse of Louisville's culture." You held up your fingers in quotations. Urban went on a very long rant during dinner last month when you asked him if he knew of any knew any new places to go out downtown, and you hadn't brought it up since.
"I made him come out with me", Clay cut in, knowing you'd get the truth out of Urban sooner or later, "I was going stir crazy at home." He avoided eye contact with you, taking a swig of his drink.
You narrowed your eyes at both of them and they squirmed under your scrutiny, awkwardly shifting in place. You were incredibly intuitive and knew something else was going on, and Jack definitely had something to do with it. Something was off, and while you wanted to get to the bottom of it, this night wasn't about you, so you put it to the side until later, letting Urban and Clay join your group for the night.
Jack came home from London a couple days later, but was so wrapped up in prepping for his performance in New York, you didn't get the opportunity to ask him why his best friends just happened to be at the same location you were last week. You didn't want to assume he was sending his friends to check in with you, instead of just trusting you to be careful on your own, but it was just too much of a coincidence.
The night of the show you hung around the greenroom for a couple of hours while Jack was doing soundcheck and and running through last minute changes with his team. Jack had security posted at the door of his dressing room and didn't let anyone pass through the hallway where he was getting ready, but you didn't think much of it because that was protocol for him and his team's safety.
Clay and Urban found Jack as he was walking off the stage, Jack adjusting his in ear as he went through the motions of his performance in his head. The crowd was roaring behind them, growing impatient for the show to start.
"How did last week go?" Jack asked as soon as he spotted them.
"I don't know why you asked Urban to check in with Y/N, he's a terrible liar", Clay scoffed, earning an eye roll from the blonde. "I'm a terrible liar? Mr. "I can't make eye contact with her", Urban mocked Clay with exaggerated motions.
"Can you two stop it? I asked you to make sure she was safe, discreetly, but its obvious the two of you don't know what that means. What the hell am I paying you for?" Jack pulled at the collar of his shirt, the air around him stifling. Your safety was the only thing on his mind lately, and he couldn't focus on anything else.
"First of all, you're not paying us at all", Urban retorted, but Jack just sighed, pushing past them to go back to the dressing room. "And second of all, she's smart, man, its only a matter of time before she figures out you've got us going undercover. You should just hire a security team for her."
Jack leaned against the wall, letting a few crew members walk by before continuing. "I've tried that, but she is so damn stubborn, says she doesn't need security. She doesn't realize how important all of this is, the crazy fan approaching her was just the tip of the iceberg. You guys have seen how wild people can be." Urban and Clay nodded in agreement, but it did nothing to calm Jack's nerves.
"Dude, just talk to her. Tell her how important the security team is, I'm sure she'll understand." Jack stroked at his jawline, watching as Neelam came rushing down the hallway. "Five minutes, Jack." You got up from your chair at the announcement to give Jack a good luck hug and kiss before he went on stage.
Jack lowered his voice to Urban and Clay so you couldn't hear him. "The two of you keep an eye on her tonight, okay? Don't let her out of your sight. I can't have anything happen to her."
Jack trusted his friend and brother with his life and knew they'd never let anything happen to you. He grabbed your hand as he pressed a kiss to your temple and you followed him out to the side stage.
Most of the way though the show, you could feel your voice start to go from yelling and cheering for Jack over the music. Urban was in the crowd getting some action shots, which left Clay to watch over you. He glanced over at where you were posted all night, as you started to walk back to the greenroom to grab a bottle of water. He intercepted you before you got past the curtain, stopping you in your tracks. "What's up? Going somewhere?"
"Just gonna grab some water really quick." You motioned to your dry throat.
"Uh, I'll have someone get it for you." He looked around for a PA.
"Clay, its fine, I can get my own water", you chuckled, gently pushing past him. "Cool, cool! I'll join you, I could use some water too."
"Okay, you're being weird. Everything okay?" You crossed your arms over your chest as the two of you walked backstage. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just realized, you and Jack have been dating for a while and we never really got a chance to get to know each other."
You grabbed a bottle from the craft services table, looking over your shoulder at him. "And tonight seemed like a good time to do that?"
"Yeah, tell me about your childhood. Did you wet the bed?" He wasn't sure how he got to that line of questioning, palming his face in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to ask you that." He plopped down on the couch, letting out a deep breath. "This is harder than I thought it was going to be."
"What is? What the hell is going on, Clay? You, Urban, and Jack for that matter, have been acting so strange lately." You sat down next to him, taking a big gulp of water.
"He doesn't want to overstep, but you're a lot harder to keep track of then we thought you would be."
You gave him an incredulous look. "Is this about Jack and the whole security thing? I told him I was fine." Clay nodded, shifting to sit up and face you.
"I know how much he cares about you, Y/N, and that whole fan interaction scared the shit out of him, even if it didn't bother you." You tightened the grip on your water bottle as Clay spoke, the plastic cracking in your hand. You were so caught up in how you felt, Jack's feelings didn't even cross your mind. "He just wants to make sure you're safe, but since you won't take the security team, he had to take matters into his own hand."
"I knew you two showing up a the bar last Thursday wasn't a coincidence? How did you two figure out where I was anyway?"
Clay ran a hand over his buzzcut hair. "Jack texted us that night and told us to get our asses over there. You wouldn't take Dave, so we had to improvise."
"So he sent Dumb and Dumber to look after me, huh?", you said in jest, playfully shoving Clay in the shoulder. "We prefer Scooby and Shaggy, but whatever", he shrugged, making you giggle.
"I guess I can let Dave follow me around every once and a while." The thought of a 6'5", 300 pound man standing in the corner of your pilates class was kind of funny.
"Listen, I know that your life has changed so much since you met Jack, trust me, if anyone knows its me, and if you know my brother at all, you know he does not play about the people he loves." You nodded, smiling to yourself. Jack loved his family and friends so deeply and openly, it was honestly refreshing to witness it first hand. You could tell how much he cared about everyone, and wanted to see them succeed. It was one of the things you loved the most about him.
Clay smiled, jumping to his feet and extending a hand to help you up. "C'mon, lets watch the end of the show."
"Wait, who's Shaggy in this duo?", you asked, grabbing the offered hand. "Obviously Urban", Clay answered. "Shaggy gives off major stoner vibes."
You stood off to the side of the stage as the show ended, and Jack ran down the stairs, immediately searching the backstage crowd for you. You watched on as his team surrounded him and helped him get unhooked from the sound equipment, as Clay gave him a quick rundown of your conversation, Jack's gaze never leaving your face.
He slowly approached you, half expecting you to be pissed, but you just wrapped him up in a tight hug, your cheek rubbing against his scraggly beard. "Everything okay?", he chuckled, nuzzling into your hair. "Yeah, everything's fine." You pulled away with a smile, grabbing his hand to walk back to his dressing room and away from everyone else. You turned to him as he shut the door, giving the two of you privacy.
"Did something happen?" You were quiet, and that made him uncomfortable. He hooked his eyebrow as he searched your face to try to gauge your reaction. "Look, I know that Clay told you everything, and I know you asked me to trust you, and I promise I do, but-". You stopped him with an abrupt kiss to the lips, your chests colliding with each other. You were the first to break to take a breath, Jack pulling you in tightly to his body so you couldn't walk away. "What was that for?", he asked with a giddy grin.
"I owe you a thank you, baby. I was fighting you so hard on this security thing because I didn't want my life to change anymore, but I know now you were just worried about me, and I appreciate that so much." You reassuringly ran your hands up and down his chest, feeling his muscles flex underneath your palms at your touch.
"I just love you so much", Jack explained, grabbing your hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, "and I can't do what I have to do unless I know you're safe. I know its a lot, but I need you to do this for me."
You nodded, giving him a small smile. "I know, just give me some time to get used to it. I'll come around to the whole idea that my boyfriend is an celebrity, eventually." You drug out the last word sarcastically.
"So that's a yes to the security team?" Jack ducked down to make eye contact with you. "Uh, no, not a whole security team, just two bodyguards." You motioned over to the door, and Jack turned around to see Urban and Clay standing in the threshold. "These two dumb asses?" Jack threw a lazy thumb their way with a disappointed look.
You both chuckled at the rumble of objections that came from the two of them. "Hey! Is that any way to talk about your girlfriend's security team?" Urban threw an arm over your shoulders, pulling you in for a side hug. "Yeah, these two will blend in a little better than your security team, plus they are a very good time."
"Yeah, you hear that? We're a good time." Clay threw his arm over your shoulder as well, sticking his tongue out at Jack.
"Whatever." Jack threw his hands up in surrender with a smile. "You should know that a twelve year old girl beat him up when he was a freshman in high school." You stiffled a laugh as you looked at Clay, who was visibly upset.
"She was really big for a twelve year old!", Clay bit back as everyone in the room burst into laughter.
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#jack harlow#jackman thomas harlow#jackharlow#jackman harlow#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow concepts#jack harlow imagine#jack harlow fanfic
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i love hearing about you and your wife it gives me so much warmth and hope - if your comfortable, do you have a first meeting or first date story? totally ok if you'd not share! i hope you and your wife have a wonderful anniversary, 11 years is quite a feat!
oh ho ho you've unlocked my special interest. i love talking about our first meeting/date.
(a read more because i did not make this short)
we actually "met" on tumblr! we both signed up for this penpal blog where you got matched with someone who had similar interests as you. i verified with my wife this morning and we both said we liked cats-i'm assuming that's what they matched us over. i dropped a joke in her inbox that went unanswered for days despite her reblogging and posting and was like welp, that was a good shot, champ, but you messed it up. no friends for you.
now, this was in the days when tumblr's inbox system (which limited you to 10 asks a day) ate every other message. so it's not that she didn't think it was funny, she just didn't get it. i found this out when i dropped the same joke a second time in her inbox and lo and behold! she thought it was funny. (i have recycled this joke many times over the year and always get an eye roll. like, babe. it's a classic. it's the thundapants joke!)
she did not think it was funny when i told her i was a transplant living in the the armpit of massachusetts because-lo and behold a second time-that's where she grew up and was also still living! it was an auspicious start for me, truly. we figured out that we had a bunch of things in common-i did my student teaching at her high school when she was a senior there, i was a substitute teacher for her little sister's 8th grade class, we missed each other in college by a couple of classes, my roommate and best friend worked at the PT office my wife frequented. we kind of went around each other for a while before we finally landed in the same place.
it took me a month and a half of my best jokes to convince her to go on a date with me because, as she said, she was super nervous. i was like, you have not truly met me yet because i am the stupidest person on earth and not worthy of nervousness. but she finally said yes! and we went out to a local chinese restaurant for crab rangoons. it shared a parking lot with the diner i worked at so i ate there all the time and the people there were so surprised i was (a) sitting down to eat and (b) eating with somebody!
(thus began our tradition of ending up on someone else's first date. the couple behind us was clearly meeting for the first time. he was telling her his credit score and that she could order whatever she wanted off the menu, no worries because he could pay for it. we cringed each time he opened his mouth but it was kind of perfect in a way because it gave us something to whisper about. we have since ended up on way too many first dates to count. it is kind of just a thing that happens to us, no matter where we go.)
our date was really, really good. we had talked A LOT via tumblr inbox (messages didn't exist yet) and the conversation just kind of picked up in person. so much so that 4 hours went by and they were putting up the chairs. and then we talked for a while in the parking lot too until my roommate hit me with the "are you alive or did she murder you and dump your body somewhere?" text. i left her on read and kept talking until the restaurant locked up and all the people went home. i just didn't want to leave. i felt like i knew my wife already, you know? like things just clicked. she was funny and intelligent and she listened when i went on the first of many, many tangents. her patience for me is unmatched and started out that way.
we spent the rest of the summer we lived there spending as much time as we could together. i distinctly remember doing short order cook shifts at the diner i worked at and then rolling up to her house to pick her up and drive around. we had to drive with the windows down because my clothes just effused grease from the fryers. we watched so many movies at my apartment-which is hilarious because about a year into our relationship she informed she was NOT a movie person, she just wanted to spend time together. we have watched maybe ten movies together since that first year.
then i got a full-time job on the other side of the mountain, we moved, bought a house, got married, and the rest is history. but we get crab rangoons on every anniversary and do a lame-o instagram post about each other and i continue to be the stupidest person in the room, just very stupid over her.
#the story of us is not all that interesting but i do like telling it#and my wife is sick of hearing it so i guess this anonymous tumblr user gets to read it now#for those wondering the joke was: what kind of underwear do clouds wear? THUNDERPANTS!#i told her this joke later on in our lives and she laughed again so i know it was a winner#literally that was the shot i took with my wife and it worked!#goes to show: lame jokes can still get the girl#never give up on your cornball dreams kid#me @ me all the time#me @ my wife
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Can I get some Uncle Tello- Baby/Toddler Casey Jones Jr bonding fluff? Their bond is just so cute and funny to me & I just keep thinking about Donatello "I don't like kids, but if anyone even breathes wrong in Casey Jr's direction I will not hesitate to take someone out" Hamato aka 'the grumpy, protective uncle who grows to love his nephew very much but would never willingly admit it outloud (especially to his twin. Too bad for him Leo most likely already knows. again. twins lol ). Cause I can imagine poor guy had a hard time coping with the fact that CJ can destroy anyone's "emotionally unavailable bad-boy" image with little effort if you give him the time. And Donnie learned the hard way 😂
I am SO sorry this took so long! This prompt is golden and I love it, here you go!
--
Donatello tolerates children. He doesn't hate them because, believe it or not, there is a difference between the two.
He understands from a logistical standpoint that children function differently from adults. They're still navigating the world, cry when a need isn't met, laugh when you tickle them or someone falls on their face, and put everything and anything within reach in their mouth to figure out what it is and if they can eat it. Most of the time, the answer is no.
Donnie understands that, so he tolerates children. And as the world caves in and he's forced to intermingle with more humans and Yokai than he'll ever see (the numbers dwindle daily, but who's counting?), his tolerance builds. Though his position in the Resistance—Keeping Everyone Alive Under Six Feet of Earth and Limited Oxygen—keeps him cooped up in his lab and limits his interaction with people in general, on the odd days he's not locked in there with a sign that reads 'Keep Out or Get Bit', he'd say he does a decent job. Take that, autism.
It's on one of these odd days Cassandra Jones kicks the door of the mess hall down with enough force to send it flying, holds up a dirty bundle with a squirming thing inside and screeches. “I have acquired a child!”
And that was that.
Well, not really; there was a lot of screeching, demanding, explaining and even more frantic demanding involved. But Donnie barely remembers most of it. He'd been busy staring at the little pink face peeking out from the ragged cloth wrapped hastily around a tiny body, wondering how and why anyone would abandon him.
Logically, he knew why. Babies smell, they're defenceless, needy and loud. All recipes for disaster—death—in the alien apocalypse. Logically, he knew it was better to cut your losses and ditch, lighten the load, ease the burden and raise your chances of survival.
Emotionally, irrationally, he wanted to find the blood mother and kill her himself.
Regardless, Cassandra had claimed him, named him—Casey Jones Jr, of course—and the Hamato's had a new family member.
Cass was a mother, and Donnie was suddenly an uncle.
Cassandra, despite herself, is a great mother. She feeds, clothes, bathes and teaches Jr with the ferocity and vigour she's always had in spades but dipped in a new warmth and love Donnie never would have associated with her. It's unexpected, but Cass wouldn't be Cass if she weren't screwing Donnie's perception of reality in her every waking moment.
April and Raph dote on him something awful with baby voices and whatever toys they find or have donated to them by other understanding and indulgent parents. Mikey cries when he takes his first steps. Draxum gifts him a Yokai necklace made from dragon teeth and scales.
(“He can eat them once his feeble infant teeth fall out,” he explains while stoically cradling the giggling infant on one clawed palm, outwardly indifferent yet impossibly gentle. “They will harden his skin and strengthen his bones to iron. No Krang would dare stand in his way.”
“We are not,” April says, “feeding dragon teeth to my nephew, Draxum.”
“As his grandfather, I should have some say in his dietary requirements. Cassandra agrees with me!”
“I will bury you, Draxum,” April growls in a tone that promises unspeakable violence. “I will bury you deep.”
“... understood.”)
Leo lets him chew on his mask tails while rocking him to sleep. He also cries like a bitch when the little pink thing looks him in the eye, drool dribbling down his chin and his gummy smile miles and miles wide and says—“Weo!”
(Donnie thinks Splinter would have loved him just as much. Shared with him the stories and legacy of their clan, sang to him the same old Japanese lullabies, enthralled him with the tales of Lou Jitsu, everything he'd wanted to do should he ever become a grandfather.)
Donnie doesn't see Casey much. Not by choice, but he's a busy freaking turtle and one-year-olds are notoriously for being loud, distracting little things that Donnie cannot afford, now more than ever.
He knows their chances of winning the war are slim at best and impossible at worst. Hope can only take you so far, crazy mystic powers or not. They've already lost so much of their world. They've already lost Dad.
So Donnie needs to focus, work and keep working so they won't lose anyone else. Anything less than the best possible outcome is not a thread of logic he is willing to follow.
Then there's a knock at his door.
Without turning from his multiple screens, mystic or otherwise, Donnie grunts, “It had better be good—”
Cassandra bursts through the door, blazes across the room, dumps something on Donnie's lap—“HOLD THIS I WILL RETURN SHORTLY SHUT UP AND THANK YOU FAREWELL!”—and slams the door behind her on her way out.
Donnie sits bamboozled in his chair in the aftermath of her whirlwind. He stares at the scorch marks her feet left on the floor, the angle his door sits at after she'd slammed it near off its hinges—
“Ba!”
—and at the one-year-old pink thing she'd left to drool on his lap.
“Oh hell no, hell no—Cassandra Bernid Jones!” he hollers to no reply.
How in the shit could she do this to him?! Why in the shit?!
Junior giggles at Donnie's misery, kicking his bare feet madly and clapping damp hands. He must've had his fingers in his mouth. Joy.
“Cassandra, come back for your child or I will feed you to the nearest Krang Hound!” Donnie shouts. Unsurprisingly, his only answer is more of Junior's incessant giggling. Pudgy fingers reach for Donnie's face and Donnie lifts him higher, further away. Junior shrieks with joy.
Growling, Donnie activates the mechanical arms in his shell to carefully lift the child off his lap as he stands, holding him at a fair distance. The child is delighted by this and kicks harder, screaming with unbridled joy and having the time of his life. Donnie stares, fighting a scowl and a flinch because dear god how can something so small be so ungodly loud?
Donnie wants to smash something. Ironically, the indirect source of his ire keeps that desire at bay, but it doesn't stop him from grinding his teeth.
He's busy running updates on their freaking security system, the only thing keeping the Krang from finding them and killing everything that breathes. Cassandra knows this, everyone knows this, he'd sent them an email about it! So why, in the ever-loving shit, would Cassandra literally drop her child off with the one person who has a history of only tolerating children? Sure it's his adopted nephew, but he can only last so much in the presence of his own blood relatives for Christ—
He doesn't realize he's hissing, a low guttural thing rivalled only by Raphael at his angriest, until Junior stops laughing.
As much as they postured and played with fashion, aesthetics and trends as teenagers, Donnie and his brothers are mutants, and by (non-freaky)human standards, they are not conventionally 'pretty'. And according to many honest human comrades, April included, they can be downright unnerving sometimes. Mostly when they're pissed off, their animal roots seeping through the cracks of the humanity instilled in them by a loving father. They growl, hiss, click and roar, bearing their teeth and snarling like beasts. It's worse for Donnie and Raph, the carnivores of the family and most prone to biting; Raph's size doesn't help, and Donnie has easily frightened some of their biggest and strongest Yokai allies with a flash of fangs or a warning hiss.
It's not something he likes about himself these days. It never bothered him until they were forced to interact more and more with humans who had no qualms pointing shit like that out, even now with literal aliens prowling their ruined world. Still, he's learned to roll with it like he does with everything else.
But Casey Junior looks at him—his peeled lips revealing sharp fangs grit tight in a snarl and a hiss he can't curb fast enough—and he starts crying.
Oh shit.
“Oh shit,” Donnie says, flapping his hands, ire forgotten as panic takes over. “Oh shit, the child is crying and I am the cause. Cassandra will kill me, then Draxum will bring me back as a zombie so Raph can kill me again.”
What the hell does he do? Make funny faces? Pretend to trip over and fall flat on his snoot? Kids love physical comedy, pain is always funny! Or maybe he—or—oh who is he kidding, he's screwed. And the baby is still crying, kicking his feet and red in the face. Donnie lowers but doesn't touch him, biting his lip as his thoughts race. Not even five minutes and he's proven he cannot handle a child. How does Raph do this? How did Dad put up with this for seventeen years—
Oh wait, there's an idea. What did Dad do?
Trick question: Donnie knows exactly what Dad did when they were younger, and eight times out of ten it worked. The problem lies with Donnie and his intense aversion to all things stinky and gross and loud, all of which Casey Jr is.
But Donnie has seen and lived with worse even before the world went to shit. He lived with Leo and Mikey as his little brothers; they piss him off like it's their personal mission, but he loves them so fiercely it's painful. He'd look death in the eye and double-dog dare it to do its worst for them.
This is his baby nephew. He's not been around nearly as long but surely, surely, Donnie can get over himself for him, too.
(Even if he is a busy turtle working his ass off at the end of the world. But family is different. Family trumps everything.)
So Donnie swallows, takes a deep breath, takes Casey from the mechanical arms before dismissing them into his shell—“I'm doing it, I'm freaking doing it—” and pulls Casey into his arms, holding him tight against his chest.
The crying doesn't magically cease as Donnie had hoped, but it dies down into kitten-like sniffles that do—something to Donnie's heart, squeezing and twisting it in a way he hasn't felt since Mikey was this small, maybe smaller. Whatever it is, it compels him to cup the back of Casey's ebony head and press his (grossgrossgross) face into the exposed crook of Donnie's neck.
“Um... there there,” he says clumsily, patting Casey's back with his other hand. “Cease your crying. It's making my knees hurt and my chest do weird, fuzzy things I don't have time for.”
Casey turns his head at Donnie's voice, frighteningly alert.
Hm.
With a claw from his battle shell, he pulls his purple hood up, shielding Casey from the neon glare of his computer screens and LED lights around the lab.
“I apologize for scaring you,” he says a decibel softer. Casey turns his head again in response, still sniffling but significantly calmer. “I am angry, yes, but I am not angry at you. It was unfair of me to show my ire that way, especially in front of you, child who is easily frightened by loud noises and yet is scarily perceptive of the moods of the people around you...”
Casey lays his head against Donnie's shoulder, blinking up at him with big watery eyes. Donnie blinks back.
This is... not awful. It's progress. Progress is good. This is good.
He tears his gaze from Jr's—as deadly a weapon as Mikey's eyes for sure—and sways from side to side the way he used to do for Leo when they were young and scared. He hums a tune under his breath, one from that Ghibli movie about little people; he can't remember the film's name but the song at the end was cute and catchy as it was corny. Even years later, he remembers the words—
“I'm 14 years old, I am pretty. I'm a teen tiny girl, a little lady. I live under the kitchen floor. Right here, not so far from you.”
The sniffles die off, Casey's pudgy fingers grasping Donnie's torn hood, tiny nose buried against cool scales. Donnie keeps going, softly rubbing Casey's back the way Dad would rub his shell during Donnie's worse days. The memory brings tears to his eyes, so he shuts them before they can fall.
“Sometimes I feel happy, sometimes I feel blue. In my dreams O I wish I could... Feel my hair blowing in the wind, see the sky and the summer rain, pick a flower from the garden for you. Beyond the lane there's another world, butterflies floating in the air. But is there someone out there for me?”
By the end, Donnie looks down to see Casey fast asleep, sucking his thumb and drooling on Donnie's shoulder. For a breathless moment that lasts an eternity, Donnie is spellbound, staring at the little pink thing—a biological miracle someone had so quickly discarded on the barren streets of a dying world, a little life that had persevered despite every odd stacked against it, Cassandra's son, Donnie's little infant nephew—he cradles in his arms. For the first time he doesn't care for the slimy drool coating his shoulder, the bacteria or anything his body and brain would outright reject.
Donnie stares at Casey Jones Jr and finally pins a name to the fuzzy feeling in his chest.
Oh.
“Oh,” he says. Jr snuffles in his sleep.
---
When Leo turns a corner to find Mikey, Raph, April and Cassandra huddled outside Donnie's lab doors, he almost turns around to avoid the oncoming storm of Donnie's short temper. The gossip in him wins out in the end as he squeezes between Raph and Cassandra to peer through the crack in the door.
What he sees has him gaping like a fish.
Donatello Hamato—the Resistance's resident genius and hermit—sits languidly at his desk surrounded by screens, one hand tapping away at holographic screens, breezing through emails. The other arm curls around a babbling Casey Jr, grubby hands clenched tight on one of Donnie's old rubber fidget toys as he gnaws on it like a dog with a bone.
“The shipment from Asia's remaining base in Hong Kong should be arriving at the port between noon and sixteen hundred hours tomorrow,” Donnie rambles, eyes scanning a long wall of encrypted mystic text.
“Ba!” Casey cries around the toy, kicking his legs.
Donnie nods with a hum, scratching his chin. “Yes, I agree. Krang activity has intensified alarmingly at the Old Port since the refugee extraction six months ago, but there's no time to plan a safer route...”
“Ba dee ba!” Casey blows a messy raspberry. Not missing a beat, a mechanical arm pops from Donnie's shell to wipe the baby's mouth with a cloth before discarding it.
“You're right, Jr. I suppose there's no helping the matter. We must brief the teams as soon as possible to discuss the matter, rally what factions we have at our disposal—”
“Eeeee!” Casey screeches before bursting into giggles.
Donnie brightens. “Of course! We could send the drones! They're stealthier and won't incur a needless massacre at the hands of psychopathic aliens. If anything, we shall be doing the massacring once I've outfitted the drones with my newest Genius Built trademark mystic weaponry! Excellent idea Casey Jones Jr, what would I do without your added brilliance.”
“Don-NEE!” Casey cries.
“Yes yes, I'll send the email and hopefully one of those dumb dumbs will actually read—wait, what did you say?” Donnie drops the screens and plucks Casey off his lap to stare him in the face with wide eyes. “Did—Did you just—did you just say—?”
“Don!” Casey giggles, wiggling in Donnie's grip. “Don don don don don! Don-NEE!”
Donnie stares and stares and stares. A stupidly happy grin splits his face in two. “Oh my god.”
“Oh my god,” Mikey breathes with a matching grin.
“Would'ja look at that,” Raph chuckles, his smile a proud, fond thing.
“Knew he had it in him,” April nods.
“Which means Leonardo owes me fifty bucks!” Cassandra quietly whoops.
Tearing his eyes away from the horrendously cute picture of his twin and nephew, Leo aims a sly grin at Cassandra. “I would if we still used actual money as a source of income or trade.” Cassandra's grin drops like a stone, and Leo fights an evil cackle that would make Draxum proud. “Cash hasn't been a thing in years, Cassandra dear. Get dunked on.”
“Bite my ass, you di—!”
The door abruptly slides open the rest of the way and they tumble to the floor in a heap. Above them, Donatello stands unimpressed, brow raised and one hand on his hip. Curled in his other arm, Jr babbles happily and reaches for Cassandra.
“Evening all,” Donnie drones as they clambered guiltily to their feet. “To what do I owe this displeasure.”
“Nothing at all!” Cassandra said, shooting Leo a poisonous glare before opening her arms to receive her son. “Thank you for looking after my child, I will take him back now and relinquish you from your—”
“A-bub-bub-bub!” Donnie turns slightly, putting Jr out of her reach. “I have decided that Jr may stay a few hours longer while I run the regular diagnostics and schedule that meeting you no doubt heard about while you were unceremoniously eavesdropping at my still broken door—thank you for that Cassandra, by the way—he is no trouble presently and makes an excellent rubber duck to bounce ideas off. Don't you agree, Jr?”
Jr snaps his head up to beam at Donnie. “Ah!” he says. Donnie's impassive face melts into a rare smile that Leo aches to see. He's not smiled like that since before Dad...
Cassandra's arms flop to her sides. April, Mikey and Raph stare, rendered speechless until April lifts a finger. “... er, Don, are you sure—?”
“Quite sure, Commander O'Neil,” the impassive mask returns, but Donnie's fooling no one. “Now if you don't mind, Jr and I are very busy bees and must get back to work, so begone. And while you're at it, please issue this new warning to the rest of the base: 'I have only had Casey Jones Jr for five hours, but if anything happens to him, I will kill everyone in this base and then myself.' Good day.”
“Goo' 'ay!” Casey chimes and Leo has a front-row seat to Donnie's delighted crooked smirk right before he slams the door shut in their faces.
There's a beat of silence.
Then Raph claps his hands. “So,” he draws out with a strained smile, “who saw that coming?”
“Me,” Leo sings.
“You bet against him!” Cassandra booms. “With non-existent money!”
Leo shrugs, motioning them to follow him down the hall. “Only on principle. I knew he had it in him. Jr is family and Donnie loves attention and family. It was bound to happen.”
“Aaand it was stupidly cute!” Mikey chimes, floating by them with his hands tucked under his chin.
Leo thinks of the tingle he'd felt in his chest hours ago when Cassandra first ditched—ahem—dropped Jr off with Donnie, of the familiar tune from an old, corny yet hopeful film from their childhood humming from the fringes of their Mind Meld, of the glee and soft, new, helpless love bleeding from Donnie's gaze, his smile, as Jr babbled his name.
Leo smiles. “Yeah. Stupidly cute.”
---
Reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to drop more requests! For those of you still waiting, thank you for your patience I will get to them soon! :3 <3
#rottmnt#my writing#rottmnt fic#rottmnt movie#bad future rottmnt#bad future timeline#casey jones jr#casey jr#uncle donnie#i love them with all my heart#they are family your honor
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I enjoy a good ghost king Danny story, I will admit, but i also just Cannot write one. I think the thing for me is that I literally can’t see a reason why there’d be a centralized government for the Infinite Realms. Let alone a monarch. I tend to just imagine that Pariah is a conqueror who took the claim and had himself some swanky ass artifacts.
The point of a government is to provide for the needs and wants of the governed, and I cannot for the life of me see what the point of a king for all the realms would be? Even if we limit it to the afterlives of just civilizations from this solar system, of even just the Earth, that’s still so many afterlives that would count as their own Realms to managed and they each already have their own rulers (Persephone and Hades, Hel, Odin, Ra, Osiris, Etc) so why would they need someone beyond them to govern them?
Ghosts persist because the force of their will to live outweighs even entropy, so theoretically any ghost given time and the willpower to keep at it could mold the ectoplasm around them into a home that provides everything they need. If they don’t need/want a sanctuary what’s stopping them from reaching the material plane and fulfilling their heart’s desire there?
I just can’t think of a good reason to do the whole king Danny thing, but if you’ve got one feel free to toss it my way! I like fun thoughts to chew on while I work cause I’m bored af.
#Rexy Rambles#Danny Phantom#Ghost King Danny au#I love when other people write this au#I just can’t get it to work in my own head cause it makes no actual sense to me
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Jump
Virgil sat by the unconscious body of his older brother. Scott’s body was in shock, pushed to the limits from back-to-back rescues and then overwhelmed by hitting the ground far too fast. He had jumped out of Thunderbird One, diving towards the ground in a last ditch attempt to save someone. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone in his family that Scott had ignored his body’s limits and done something incredibly stupid in the name of saving someone else. He did it every week. But normally he had back-up there with him to save him from the worst results of his lack of concern for himself.
But this time he had been on his own, Thunderbird Two just far enough away that all Virgil could do was watch as his big brother dived towards the ground, and when it became clear that his jetpack wasn’t enough to keep both him and the woman he was rescuing up, he had removed the equipment from his shoulders and strapped it to hers. It had slowed his descent enough to keep him from dying on impact, but the human body was not designed for those kinds of maneuvers, despite what Scott and Alan seemed to believe, and the collision had caused serious damage to his body.
So Virgil sat watch, refusing to allow his brother to leave him behind. He and Grandma had spent hours keeping Scott stable, fighting against the multitude of injuries to keep him alive. They had done all they could now, and all that was left was to wait. Scott was strong, and he could fight his way back to them. Hopefully. It was all up to him now.
Virgil hadn’t even realized he was crying until the tears began to land on the blanket covering his brother’s limp form. He loved his brother. He truly did, but the lengths Scott was willing to go scared him. He didn’t know what he would do without him, and Scott seemed not to have ever thought about what losing him would do to the rest of the family left behind. Alan would be destroyed. He had already lost one father, and didn’t need to lose another one. Gordon and John would keep going. That’s what they did. They kept pushing on, no matter what. But it would crush them, even if they wouldn’t admit to it. But Virgil…
Virgil would crumple under the weight. Ever since they were little, he had been the one following after Scott, chasing him as fast as his short legs could carry him. He couldn’t count the number of times their mother had warned him that just because Scott did something didn’t mean he needed to do it too. Not that it changed anything. He was still right behind Scott, no matter what.
He was at his best when he could support, not lead. He lived to help others, to build them up when the world tried to tear them down. He had never wanted the spotlight for himself. He had never wanted to lead. Scott was the leader. Scott was the one who shouldered the burdens to keep them off of his brothers, who was always willing to put aside his wants for his family’s needs, who took foolish risks in the name of saving someone.
Virgil’s shoulders shook as he realized just how close they were to losing his brother. He didn’t think he could survive losing Scott. Fragments of an old song swam into his head, and he whispered them haltingly through the tears.
If you're gonna run, I'll run with you
Scott knew that, right? That no matter what he did, Virgil would be right there beside him.
Falling off the edge of the deep blue
He may be older now, and know that not everything Scott did was the wisest choice. That didn’t change anything. He would follow Scott to the ends of the earth if he needed to, and if that wasn’t far enough…
My mother always warned me when I was young
But if you're gonna jump
If you're gonna jump, I'm jumping too
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Sorting it Out - Lucifer Morningstar Imagine (The Sandman)
Title: Sorting it Out
Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar X Reader
Word Count: 738 words
Warning(s): pain described
Summary: (Y/n) doesn't know how long they spent in Hell before Heaven seemed to finally come to their senses. But the question of whether or not they wanted to return to Heaven was still to be answered.
Author's Note: I am actually quite happy with this.
Part 2 to "Little Angel"
PART ONE HERE!
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I had lost count of my time in Hell.
Night and day had long since been forgotten. I hadn't usually focused on them while in Heaven but keeping an eye on Earth gave me some count of how long I could spend working.
In Hell, I didn't even have that.
I didn't really mind it though.
After a while, Hell became more like home and less like a prison. I think Lucifer did that on purpose. They didn't want me to hide from them. They wanted me to want to spend time with them.
The loss of my wings hurt less and less. The wounds had long since scarred over. I tried to ignore them. I did pretty well as long as I didn't press too hard on them.
I was to the point that I didn't see a point in Lucifer "sorting it out" like they said they would.
I was in the main room, watching the flame in front of me dance. It was entrancing, truly. And it frightened me less than the crowd of demons hoping for the demand to rip my head off.
"Hello, little angel," I looked up when I heard Lucifer's voice. "Sorry to leave you waiting."
I furrowed my eyebrows. We hadn't discussed meeting for anything.
Lucifer chuckled before starting to walk toward me.
"Close your eyes," they said.
I did as I was told. I had become so trusting. I wish I knew how long it had taken me to get to that point.
"I'm sorry in advance, but I have to do this now. I was given a limited time."
I didn't get to question their statement before two fingers were pressed to my forehead. I hissed at the feeling of something pushing through my skin. The scarred skin opened to make room for something new.
I gasped as the pain burned off.
"I'm sorry," Lucifer mumbled to me, hand moving from my forehead to my cheek. Both of my hands touched their arm; one grabbing the wrist as the other laid on top of their hand. "Shh, shh, shh, it's alright."
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.
I saw Lucifer's free hand move slightly.
"I need you to look, little angel."
I turned my head to the side. A mirror conjured next to us.
Lucifer's hand fell slightly, but I still held onto it. Like I needed something to ground me there.
I let out a shocked laugh. A weak laugh, but a laugh, nonetheless. My wings. Back. In all their glory.
"I got answers for you," Lucifer explained. "And now I've fixed their mistake."
"You gave me my wings back."
"Because you did nothing to lose them in the first place."
I slowly looked back toward them. They had a grin on their face.
"They suit you."
I chuckled. "Thank you. For everything. You never had to be as kind to me as you have. You've done so much more than I ever expected."
"You should have higher expectations then."
I looked down for a moment. I never thought about things like that. Never wanted to, really. It was easier to ignore things like that.
"(Y/n)."
I looked up again. Lucifer had never called me by my name. It was always "little angel" or sometimes just "angel", but never my name.
They had stepped closer to me. They pulled their hand out of my hold as they did. I grinned at them, trying to resolve some of the tension.
"Can I kiss you," they asked softly.
I nodded before putting any thought into it. I didn't need to.
I had never allowed someone to kiss me before.
It was new but nice.
Lucifer cupped the back of my head, holding me in place as they guided the kiss. I felt helpless but in the best way. I kissed back slowly, awkwardly.
I leaned back, eyes going wide. My thoughts were a mess. I couldn't put a sentence together.
"Little angel," they muttered. "That took too long."
I slowly nodded.
I leaned in and pecked their lips again. Lucifer let out a low chuckle against my lips before leaning back.
"Can I stay here," I asked. "At least, for a little bit..."
"Of course," they replied. I grinned. "If that's what you want."
For once, I felt like I knew what I wanted. Like I was allowed to entertain what I wanted.
And I nodded.
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Navigation Guide
What I Write For
Some Original Characters
#lucifer morningstar imagine#lucifer morningstar fanfiction#lucifer morningstar x reader#the sandman x reader#the sandman fanfiction#the sandman imagine#sandman imagine#sandman fanfiction#sandman x reader#fanfiction#imagine#x reader#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fanfiction
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Re: Reddit automod discourse, it’s strange to see the question framed entirely in terms of gatekeeping vs n00b inclusivity since my experience of automods was instead of rampant goodharting and the overt strangling of free expression
My principal interaction with automods was from one of the, ah, cooperative creative writing subreddits, where ppl would post prompts to attract co-writers. Which feels, in theory, like the exact sort of thing a subreddit would be good for: it creates a sort of natural market for writing partners, with the prompts acting as listings for applicants among whose proposals the op can select
It fell to the bot mod to carry out at least two central tasks: weeding out repetitive shit-tier prompts and implementing reddits larger censorship policies. These are, tbc, both important: if the mods didn’t have an automated way to enforce account age requirements and mandatory posting gaps and word limits, the place would be immediately overrun with day-old randos posting “asl?”; without clamping down at all on censored content, the entire sub would make itself a sitting duck for the stasi in the site administration. (Whether there should be stasi in the first place is a separate question, but I think once they exist you have some obligation to yr members to placate them if you want your sub to continue existing at all.)
The trouble is that, ofc, this automated mechanism is going to let in a lot of crap regardless. And so the reaction was… more onerous automated restrictions. For effortposting, this took the form of heightened minimum word counts; for pearl clutching, it took the form of increasingly paranoid prohibitions on words that might indicate conceptual adjacency to Unmentionables. In both cases the result (from my side as a prompt writer, at least) was ever increasing tedium with no real (positive) effect on quality: finding ways to distend the prompt artificially, scrupulously avoiding whatever trigger words the bot had decided were off limits. It wasn’t hard to see this was a red Queens race on both fronts, which contributed to my easing off of the platform
The censorship side of it was exacerbated by the increasingly vague, moralistic, and draconian site wide rules the bot was tasked with enforcing, which both seem to have encouraged more hedging and anxiety as a defensive measure from the mods as well as emboldening their own repressive impulses, culminating in a particularly ludicrous ban on content involving certain geopolitical affairs the mods evidently found distasteful to feature on the sub, for which they appealed as justification to the nebulous and politically self-absorbed stated principles of site governance by then in place
And the kicker? The sub still fucking sucks at its job!! The listing/applicant structure plus the personality of the median redditor (not to mention the censors) means a clear incentive to produce a consistent run of samey, not-especially-daring prompts suited for generating accordingly dull material. No amount of autodeletions will prevent that. I had many more interesting sessions and longer projects from my time in college spent trawling Omegle, a “community” with barriers to entry buried in full deep within the earths crust. Yea, there were more absolute shit tier “f?”-level users there, but I ultimately don’t care that much about the distinction between absolute shit tier and mediocre shit tier given I’ll refuse both, and with Omegle you could just repeatedly disconnect from partners until you found someone to yr taste, however esoteric and unseemly and curt that might be, instead of having to simultaneously compete with other prompt writers in a struggle for the attention of the subs lowest common denominator
And there weren’t any fucking picrew-ass alien pfp’s either
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From 1 Red yarn to 100
Pale as the snow on a winter morning.
System in the green, the mask covering my face and the hood of the hazmat jacket over my head, I feel like a fortress. While chemicals have limited effects on Valkyrie and me, walking around spreading toxic chemicals is… not exactly a wished outcome. Armor of rubber and plastics with a layer of lead beneath it, I leaned back in my seat and attempted to relax to no avail, many questions floating around in my head.
Who and why in particular. Who is counting cards when we are not even sure of the game being played and why attack a power plant when there are more opportune targets inside the city itself, coming all the way out here feels like they might be trying to fly under the radar.
No answers so far, but that is why we are here. The truck rolled through the security gate as we entered the plants compound surrounded by forests with clearings like arteries running away from it with powerlines high above.
Still early morning, a steady gray sky covered in clouds with a bit of background radiation giving off a few clicks from my Geiger counter. A heavy containment wall built from segments of concrete and topped with a layer of barbed wire surrounded the parking lot with many cameras and motion sensors showing up on my HUD as I allowed my scanners to sweep the area. Hard to think that something or someone could have entered without leaving a trace, especially with the security already here, hell, there is even a turret hidden inside the gatehouse. Lost in thought, I was brought back to the moment by Oscar tapping me on the shoulder.
Quickly getting my head out of the clouds, I fell back in line behind Richter and followed the rest of the squad across the parking lot to a makeshift command post. Pair of shipping container buildings lined up with a loader parked close by, Richter instructed us to wait outside before walking inside the makeshift building. Not that I mind, the building did not look like it would have fit all of us anyway.
“So how did you guys end up on Novis?” Oscar asked, pulling his mask off his face and onto his forehead.
“Long story.”
“Everyone who comes here has nothing but that.” He responded, pulling out a small box of smokes from his chest pocket and lighting one up. He offered the pack to Diana, who refused it and took a step further away.
“Well since we have a moment…”
Run by the basics, Earth to Mars, then into Empire space and to the defeat of Crimson and then to now. Highlight reel or not, I felt a slight warmth in my chest as we reached the end of it.
“Long trip.” Oscar said as he took a drag from his cigarette. “I remember my dad telling me stories of Earth and how they had gone there to gather chemical samples few times in his career.”
“Mars too, I had a friend who lived there a few years back. I had plans to visit her but well… things changed.” Diana said, quietly lowering her head.
“It has been a ride for sure, keep staring over my shoulder and jumping at shadows.” I responded, the memories still reeling through my mind.
“And here I thought androids were programmed to not feel that kind of things,”
“Basic programming, but unfortunately, I am far from standard at this point. This drive has been through a lot and not without damage.”
“As long as you can keep your head under pressure, I think we’ll be just fine.”
Few laughs as Oscar finished his smoke and dropped it to the ground, grinding the remains into the pavement as Richter returned from the command post.
“Alright, break’s over. We got a sizable information package. Your PDA should show the current situation with the operation. We will split up from here; team 1 will investigate the plant and find the origin of the chemical contamination. You will have a security squad with you as guides. The navigations and comms will likely cut out in there with the amount of concrete blocking the signals. Team 2 will investigate the potential breach by the southern fence. Oscar, Diana, Phoenix, you will be Team one; I will take the outside with Valkyrie as Team 2. I managed to talk some of the guards who looked into it earlier to guide us to the area, perhaps we will find something they missed. Understood?”
“Understood.”
With that, we started splitting up into our designated teams, I turned to Valkyrie as Oscar and Diana started working out an approach.
“Alright then, don’t get lost.” I said to her somewhat jokingly. “If I do, I’ll just find you. Then we can both be lost.” She responded, the smugness shining through her mask so brightly I almost forgot she was wearing one.
Friendly bump on the shoulder with a smile under my mask, she returned a faint salute as we checked our gear and prepared to enter the plant. Three tall concrete monoliths rising above the supporting buildings with tall cooling towers between them. All of it built next to a river flowing away from the city center, each block housing a water-cooled reactor unit and the systems for operating them. Our target in this case was the middle reactor, named Alexander after a long gone king.
Long live the king they say, but nobody rules forever, I kept up with Diana and Oscar until we met up with the security team waiting by the maintenance access to the backup generators on the side of the reactor building. Lower end hazmat gear and Geiger counters on chest rigs, the team was made up from six men.
“So you’re the team? All right. We will have to pass by reactor 2; it is like a maze in there so stay close.” One of the guards said, his forearm adorned by a blue reflective strip, seemingly indicating that he was the leader.
“Lead the way.” Oscar said as he clicked his equipment on. “Alrighty, keep an eye on the scanners, shout out if anything catches your eye.”
“Got it.” Diana and I said in unison, giving a faint nod to confirm we were ready to go.
Making entry, I drew my pistol and scanned the dark corners as the security team filed inside behind me, a tap on my shoulder signaling the last of them had entered the room. Relax, I clicked the safety back on and placed the pistol back in its holster. Adrenaline slowly building up, I held my hand close to the holster as we headed further inside the complex.
>>Now Entering: Alexander Maintenance room 03
Scent of diesel coming through on the filters, a pair of large diesel generators took up most of the room with tanks and various pipes disappearing through the walls further into the facility. No time to investigate where they go, nor the need to, the steady pace of the security through the corridor soon got us through the maintenance sector, coming to a halt at a large security door spanning the entire corridor lengthwise.
“Alright, Max, get the door.” The leading guard said, pointing to one of the other guards. The guard he had pointed at, Max, nodded and walked over to the terminal next to the door and inserted his keycard into it.
“Give me a moment; these things need some warming up. Password here and a reason here…” The rapid tapping on the keyboard finally resulted in a hiss from the seals opening up as Max retrieved his card and turned around. “There we go.”
“Getting faster at that, good work. Axel, pick two and take point.”
“Got it sir. Marcus and Walter, get your asses in gear.”
“Really? Fine.” Walter scoffed as he walked in through the doorway with Marcus following him, mumbling something to him.
“Stick with them, we’ll stay here and keep watch.”
“Alright, let’s get going then.”
Past the doorway, the radiation steadily climbed the further we walked, the trio of guards seemed more nervous as we neared the locked down sector. Another keycard and a steel door later, we reached the relatively normal looking section of the plant, Rudimentary containment checkpoint built from pale tarps and an air filtration system mounted stood in the doorway, the signs on the walls were pointing this to be an office.
Few final checks on the equipment, the containment checkpoint could only fit two of us at once. Oscar volunteered to go first; I joined up with him and once the air had been cycled, the graph on my HUD started rapidly climbing. Oscar had seemingly noticed the same as he looked over at me before pulling the sliding door open.
Met by a wall of darkness, I could hear Oscar breathing heavily next to me as I took a step forward, turning my flashlight on. Like a cloud, the yellow mist flowed around the room, being caught on my flashlight beam like falling leaves.
“Damn. They were not kidding when they said chemical attack.”
“I think we can safely say this was not just a leak.”
“Yeah… Filters are holding, but we’re on a clock in here.” Oscar said as he pulled the door shut behind us. A moment later, Marcus and Diana entered, leaving the last guard outside to get help if things went south. Filtered air tastes different; we deployed several chemical lights by the entrance before getting to work on examining the chemical.
Gathering samples and marking out rooms with more chemical lights, we managed to gather enough to run an analysis on the gas. Sharing some of its traits with Noxion, an old Federation chemical weapon mainly designed for anti-riot usage. Similar to tear gas in a way, it was deemed illegal almost a decade ago if memory serves me right, although some canisters circle hands in the black market.
It has a counter agent, but with it being outlawed, the remaining canisters were mostly disposed, Diana did however seem interested in the chemical mixture.
“I recognize this… We had a similar outbreak a few months ago at a ship; it was limited to a cargo container that tripped our scanners at the customs.”
“How’d you clean that up?” I asked her, taking a knee next to the analyzer case.
“We incinerated the entire container.”
“Not exactly something we can do here.” Oscar chimed in, taking a step closer with his hands crossed.
“It will take some time to figure out a counter with our limited equipment, we’d better report this back to Richter and get some backup.”
A sudden impact to the back of head, numerous errors across my HUD as I fell to the floor, the sudden impact shutting down bits one by one until my vision fell dark, last thing I heard was shouting, muffled and inaudible.
System Error.
#logs of an android#stories#writing#scifi#sci fi & fantasy#science fiction#fiction#fantasy#cyberpunk#robot
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Another genealogy, comfort, and John the baptizer
Genesis 4:17-6:22, Psalm 3, Matthew 2:19-3:17
The genealogy given of Adam and his immediate descendents made a lot of sense to me as a kid. It also helped make sense of the creation/evolution thing. In the garden on Eden Adam and Eve were immortal and lived for a long time. After they were evicted the effects of the fruit of the tree of life took some time to leave their systems and the systems of their kids. Why Methuselah lived longer than his parents, I don't know. Good hydration, maybe.
These days, I look at it and see hallmarks an origin myth. The story ends with an explanation saying: And so their days will be limited to a hundred and twenty years, which is more reasonable today, but I wouldn't expect the adult lifespan of those days to be longer than eighty, even if we only counted those who died of old age.
There's a lot of weird beings listed here, and perhaps there's more information on them in other Jewish writings. The nephilim and Enoch, who apparently didn't die, these characters are never referenced again. Yet they are mentioned here. Why? Because the bible was written by humans and includes a lot of folklore and myth and many different genre's in addtion to history. It is intended to be an inspired collection of works of literature that tell people about the nature of the interactions of God and humans, but just as the fingerprints of God are all over it, so are the fingerprints of humans. In that way it's kind of like the earth. And this isn't bad or sacreligious at all. We were never meant to worship this book. We were ordered, as I mentioned earlier, to play at being god.
The human influence on the world turned out to be decidedly bad, however, God starts prepping for a flood.
The psalm today is a good comfort to those in a tribal society: My enemies are at the gate, but God is at my back. As to what it says today, I'm not sure. Most people in our society have a distinct lack of enemies. Do billionaires qualify? I wrestle mostly with my own head. I'm going to assume that God cares about anxiety and depression because he cares about people. If I am my own worst enemy, Jesus's command to love one's enemies still holds true, I think.
And in Matthew we come to John the Baptist, Jesus's second cousin, who has taken to propheting in the good old traditional sense. John is out in the wilderness, yelling at powerful people. He calls the religious elite, "son's of serpents", or in context, "satan's babies". I enjoy this because throughout all of history, there have been people who have claimed to be God's chosen people, but in those circumstances, you see God perfectly willing to choose someone else. Jesus's family tree includes Canaanites, Moabites, Hittites, etc, and so when John says to the religious elite (I almost wrote Jewish elite there) that God will drop them like a moldy grape and choose some other people, there is good precedent for this.
And here's another thing that today's Christians would do well to remember: biblical protagonists' criticisms are almost always directed inward and upward, at their own people and own rulers and especially at the religious leaders. There is not a lot of biblical defence of punching down.
Jesus does show up to be baptized by John, and we hear him speak for the first time in Matthew. John suggests that Jesus out-ranks him and should be the baptizer in this situation, but Jesus says that no, it is right that he should be baptized, to start his ministry. I will paraphrase Jesus in this blog, because all translation is paraphrasing, and all commentary is imposing oneself onto the text. I may be even flippant with my paraphrase of Jesus words. I will try to stop short of outright blasphemy, however.
Jesus is baptized then, and heaven opens and God bestows his approval on him. I think that there is significance to this moment, in which the Spirit of God (which I capitalize because traditionally they are one of the persons of the trinity) descends on Jesus. Up until now, traditionally, Jesus has been just a normal dude, for thirty years it seems. We don't know much at all. But now, as he is baptized and gains the Spirit, he and God publicly declare that he is starting something. What he is starting, well, is the course of events leading up to the construction of the Creation Science Museum in Petersburg, Kentucky.
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i love dark blue and orange
#Jet Set Radio#jet set radio future#jet set radio beat#beatyoyo#jet set radio future nt-3000#jet set radio future yoyo#jet set radio cube#jet set radio piranha#ronins just wanna draw yoyo and beat...#165 yoyos#i see words that remind me of nt i draw nt.#oh if we count nt as yoyo because of a same appearence... how many yoyos have i drawn?!#i still think that someone took their limited time on this earth to count my yoyos... who are you anon...?#good night internet people good night
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a piece of cake
© @jamesbrnes
bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.
Something happens at Shuri's birthday party that leads to a heated fight.
word count: 3k words. (fuck, it worth every damn word)
warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! angry jealous sex, let's start there. unprotected sex, oral sex (face fucking and ridding), fingering, brief daddy!kink, brief praise!kink, language, cursing, handcuffing, mention of bodily fluids, and probably i'm forgetting something else, i just lost my mind. bucky being the cutest and loving man on earth at the end.
author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.
join the tag list here.
You had never been so quiet, but you knew that opening your mouth only could cause a storm inside the car, on your way back home. Believing you could have a pinch of luck, Bucky wouldn't notice that something was raving you mad since the moment you watched him letting another woman give him a spoon of cake. Straight to his mouth. You almost choked on your drink, talking to Shuri about how excited she was to celebrate her birthday in New York, when you witnessed the scene hearing their laughs and watching how they dared to touch his metal arm constantly. Your boyfriend was talking with some of his old friends from Wakanda, not even knowing he made friends there. He never said a word about it. Even so, they didn't have the right to flirt with him. Unless he didn't say anything about you.
But Bucky wasn't stupid. Or at least, not like you thought. Gazing you by the corners of his blue eyes, he was conscious that something was going wrong. He licked his upper lip briefly, slowly. He tasted the waters putting a hand on your thigh, which was your favorite gesture while he was driving, deriving with your fingers laced and him placing kisses on the back of your hand. But you didn't move an inch, still staring through the copilot's window with your elbow nailed there and your chin resting on your knuckles.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing”.
Your passive tone and the lie as a response caused him to frown, pulling over the car to focus on you. He turned on his seat and placed a hand behind the headrest of yours.
“Spit it”.
You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow ironically, looking at him for a second. If he had to ask it was because he wasn't really seeing the dilemma there.
“I'm just tired and I wanna go home, James. That's all”.
James. James. You did it unconsciously, but he didn't take it as an innocent manner of calling him. Unexpressive, the soldier joined the highway driving faster than he used to. You had pissed him off, but it wasn't your problem. He had hurt your feelings with something he didn't give any importance to. The only thing you wanted was to take a shower, put on your comfier pajamas and go to sleep, probably you'd see tomorrow that situation differently than today and you could move on from your insecurities and the jealousy running through your veins.
You arrived at your apartment in record time, keeping the car inside the parking under the building. You removed the seat belt to wear your leather jacket and grab your purse on your feet, stepping out when you were ready. But Bucky stayed inside, just turning off the engine. He didn't have any intention of leaving it, maintaining his hands tightly gripped around the wheel. You ignored him as soon as you couldn't pretend you were just tired anymore. It was the first time something like that happened and you were having a strong desire to throw your guts up.
Three minutes later you were under the warm water with your forehead resting against the cold wall and your eyes closed. Maybe you were overreacting and the rational, mature behavior would be to go to talk with him, tell your boyfriend what made you feel upset. Sighing as you nodded two times, determined to put the cards on the table, you shut off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.
“Oh, fucking hell!” You growled because of the scare of your life when you found Bucky already in your shared room.
He had his back supported on the wall, a leg flexed, and his hands behind himself. No expression on his face, but expecting an explanation from you. You were hoping for something from him too, maybe I don't know what I've done to make you feel like that, can you give me a clue? He just stared at you in silence, drying the pearls of water decorating your body before wearing a pair of black panties and your forgotten pajamas instead of one of his t-shirts impregnated on his scent.
“Com'ere”. Bucky whispered, stretching his flesh hand on air when you were about to go to sleep.
“No”.
Well, that wasn't the proper way to talk like grown adults. You crossed both arms on your chest, standing next to your side of the bed.
“What'd you say?” He squinted incredulous, slowly standing from the wall, pretending you hadn't uttered that word.
“I said no, you fucking punk”.
“The hell d'you think you're talking to, darling?”
“To the cretin who let other women flirt and touch him”. You replied with evident annoyance. “Why don't you go to show them your daddy's skills, uh? Sure I can find someone who respects me in the meantime”.
Suddenly, a grimace you hadn't seen before on him appeared like a thunderbolt. You weren't sure if you just made him feel more furious or if you just broke his heart. But before you could figure it out, Bucky shorted the distance between both in two fast strides and his hands gripped your throat and the back of your neck respectively, pinning you to the closest wall and tossing the lamp on your nightstand to the floor. You complained slightly —with his tongue wildly invading your mouth— because of the strength he used to put you against the wall.
You tried to push him away, to not fall into his charmings, but he made your mind blank when his fingers were firmly nailed in your ass and his body was accommodated between your legs. Your fiery provoked a bulge under his pants so painful that in every rock against your core he wasn't sure if it hurt or if it was some kind of pleasure he couldn't handle. Out of breath, Bucky attacked your neck, digging his teeth in your neck with so much passion that you screamed delighted his full name while pulling his hair. That gesture drove him insane, losing the less sanity he had at that point. With just a push, your boyfriend ripped off your shirt to strip you, in anticipation of your panties suffering the same fate.
Bucky threw you to the mattress on your abdomen, perfectly positioned to what was about to happen. He was so eager, so desperate for showing you what he was feeling that he didn't lose time taking off his clothes, just undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans to pull them down to his ankles along his boxers. You heard him spitting in his hand to use it as lube, although you were sufficiently soaked and ready for your Buck that neither of you needed his saliva. He rammed his dolorous erection into your cunt, crashing his pelvis and pressing it against your ass with all his strength, causing you to drown a loud cry in the sheets.
Tangling his fingers with yours and lacing your arms around your neck, putting all his weight onto your back, Bucky pounded you with an insanely quick rhythm, not giving you any chance to mold your throbbing walls around his length. Your pleased vocals echoed inside your room in total sync with the hits to your g-spot. Your body received with every one of them soft cramps mixed with pain and pleasure, making you roll your eyes and tear your throat.
“'S that wh— what you wanted, uh?” Bucky snarled against the back of your neck, totally gone, not giving you a break or showing any mercy.
“Fuck, no…” You replied, challenging him.
He swallowed a rough moan, wrapping his cold fingers around your throat while using the other to pull back your hair and arch your body. “Don' fucking… lie to me, doll… You wan— wanted your daddy to make you… feel desired over tho— those women”.
And yes, he was right. More or less. But you didn't expect him to react like that. Bucky was rabidly fucking you, moving the bed from its position with every angry thrust into your pussy. You knew you weren't going to last for too long if he continued impaling you against the mattress, just like that. But you both had to recognize that it was the best session of sex of your life.
“You were… fucking mad watch— watching 'em touch my arm… your arm, right?”
You whined at the brutality he used to push his hard cock beyond your limits, holding it there as he tilted your head to crash his lips on yours. Bucky devoured them until they were shiny, swollen, slightly ached because of the bit he left on your bottom one.
“If you don't tell me… the truth… I swear I'm not gonna let you come”. The whisper fell into your ear with such a raspy tone of voice, conscious of him being very capable.
“It was… your fucking fault, James. Not… Not mine”. You grunted, feeling him going a little deeper. “I di— didn't let anybody flirt with me… as if you didn't exist”.
That was the truth, but the wrong answer for him. Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his dick covered in your arousal, freeing you from any grip. A pause that only lasted the time he took to grab the handcuffs from your nightstand to place them in your wrists and secure them around the headboard. Now you were under his total control, defying him by strongly closing your legs and frowning at him, panting and sweating.
“Lemme tell you something”. Your boyfriend said, dangerously crawling over the bed till reaching your knees and forcing them to be separated, wide spread for him. “If you think I was flirting, but you didn't see… how uncomfortable I was… This situation is not my fault”.
The tables were turned as he finished his sentence, settling himself between your legs yet kneeling to raise your ass above his lap. “Not so mouthy now, are you, doll?”
You wanted to speak back, to say something after having a second to reconsider the reason why you were so angrier at him when Bucky pushed you down and rammed his dick back to the place it belonged. You forced unconsciously your hands gripped, wanting to put them on him —wherever—. As soon as he handcuffed you, your desire for touching him used to be suffocating. But you were the one who played from the start, instead of telling him how you were feeling about that situation at Shuri's party.
Bucky didn't even let you kiss him, stabilizing you on top with an arm around your waist and his cold hand holding the back of your head. His hips rocked straight to your g-spot once and once, making you lose any kind of control over your body as your boyfriend didn't have any compassion, needing to find relief to his sorrowful erection by cumming inside your clenching walls. You were driving him crazy, maintaining your eye contact at all moments and almost drinking your delighted, obscene crying, aware that only him could cause you to be so dirty.
“Feels good, uh…? You like it?” Your boyfriend brushed your lips with his, depriving you of his kisses or any other touch. “Bec— 'cause you take your daddy... so damn good, baby girl… So tight… so tight you could kill me”.
“Yes, da— daddy”. You whimpered nodding your head. “Only you… can fuck me li— like that… Only you”.
“That's it… that's it, oh, fuck… fuck, doll”.
You saw him roll that pair of beautiful blue eyes to the back of his head, feeling Bucky's thighs tensing under your legs. You didn't want anything else than making him cum, after overthinking about how he felt, and not about what you witnessed. He was right, more or less. He was still being so innocent in those kinds of situations that he used to feel like a scared kid.
You suddenly fell back to reality when the emptiness sensation invaded you. Bucky pulled out his length from you again, causing you to beg in silence for not denying you the orgasm you were about to reach. But he warned you. Bucky asked you to tell him the truth and you chose to challenge him. Letting you sit on the mattress, he flexed a leg to guide his twitching cock to your mouth, not needing to tell you what he wanted you to do. You just parted your lips, receiving him without protesting, curling your fingers when he forced your limits, and positioned both hands on your head. Twirling your tongue around his base as you could, with your cavity completely invaded, Bucky provoked you a strong gag. A gesture that led to his warm seed being spilled down your throat.
“Fuck my life, baby girl!” He couldn't help but howl driven by the pleasure as you coughed and made vibrate his sensitive skin.
Just holding his dick trapped by your lips for a second, he freed your mouth, taking his time to admire you swallowing his cum and showing afterward your tongue. God, you looked so beautiful disheveled, with teary eyes and swollen lips because of the effort.
“Want me to tell you something else?” Bucky asked while cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his arm, taking the small key to liberating you with his free hand.
You didn't reply, not needing to, as he rubbed your wrists to comfort your skin before lying by your side.
“Com'ere”. He whispered, yet trying to recover your breathings. Bucky wrapped you with his flesh arm, rubbing his iron fingers up and down your tense belly, creating a contrast that caused you goosebumps. “'M so sorry for making you feel like that”.
He kissed you. Slowly, passionate, tasting his own juices mixed with your saliva. Caressing your tongue with the tip of his, and no rush. You felt his digits touring down your skin, till finding your throbbing and needed clit. You weren't able to hold back a sweet moan when he circled his fingertip over your sensible pearl, gladly drinking your vocals.
“When I wanted to react… she was putting that damn spoon into my mouth. It felt horrible, doll, I promise”. He murmured, venturing his long cold finger to part your folds and sink it inside you —moaning at the fulfill sensation—. “You always save me from those awkward situations… but you were having fun with Shuri and I didn't want to interrupt you”.
You were feeling like shit, looking at him through your eyelids as he curved a second finger into your cunt and increased the pace of the pounds with his hand made of vibranium. Bucky spread some gentle kisses all around your face, ending with a tender bite to your lips.
“When you told me you wanted to go home, I felt a huge relief… 'Cause that was everything I wanted. Go home with you. Maybe watch a movie… cuddle… fall asleep on the sofa”.
“Oh, God, Bucky”. You wept onto his mouth, as soon as a third finger filled you, nailing his hand in the perfect position to be moved up and down. “I'm so— sorry, Buck… I'm sorry”.
“Fuck, no”. He let out, thrusting you harder, faster, creating a melody of filthy sloppy sounds while your moans were louder and louder. “I should stop 'em, I didn't… I didn't. But I respect you more than anything, doll… I love you with all my heart. I care 'bout you, 'bout your feelings… Can you forgive me? Can you… Can you cum for me?”
You nodded your head running out of words, seeing your boyfriend snaking his body down the bed to between your shaky legs, yet having his fingers knuckles deep inside you. “Keep 'em open for your man”.
The blow to your abused cunt provoked you a lash up to your backbone, landing your hands on his head as Bucky sank his face straight to your center. His digits fucked you savagely, while his tongue took control of your swollen pearl —sucking, licking, kissing, pulling it back—. He wasn't going to deny that pleasure to you, quite the opposite. You pressed unconsciously his face a little closer to your pussy, swinging your hips and riding his mouth when his caresses and his pushes became too much for you.
Bucky made you cum harder than ever, crying his name till you didn't have any strength and you were just a sack of bones under his expert mouth, devouring you and drinking your juices as if it was the elixir of life. And when he was satiated, you glanced at him using the tip of his tongue to trail a path up crossing your abdomen, the gap between your breasts, your throat, until kissing you again getting comfortable on top of you. It was a kiss full of love, and guiltiness, and necessity, and pure devotion for you.
“Did I hurt you with what I said?” You murmured, still enraptured by the fireworks fluttering within your belly.
“This isn't 'bout me”. Bucky clicked his tongue, hiding his face into your sweaty neck. “This is 'bout what I let happen”.
“That doesn't answer my question, Buck… I'm sorry about what I said. I was just… I feel insecure". You confessed stroking his scalp and back with your hands, lacing your legs together. “I didn't mean it. I would never try to… find someone who respects me more than you do. That's impossible. And not talking about how much you love me”.
“I love you with every inch of myself”. He swore, he promised, raising his face to look straight at your eyes. “I can't imagine a life without you”.
“Me either… Your love makes me feel alive”.
Bucky left one last tender kiss on your lips before suddenly standing up and holding you onto his arms to carry you to the bathroom and take a shower together —wash your hair, worship your body again as if it was the last thing he was going to do—.
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— scottie dog
about: hello my friend 🤗 can i request "i got you something! i remember you mentioning it before...i hope you like it" with martin? THANK YOUUUUU❤️❤️ — @tvserie-s-world
warnings: i’m a lil rusty 🥹, gn!reader, war angst
word count: 683
aldbourne, england
chalk hills, rolling like an unsettled ocean, hugged the idyllic wiltshire village. enthralled, webster said he thought he’d passed out on a hollywood movie set, but england wasn’t for everyone.
along the village street you sat on a stone wall, watching jeeps pass, soldiers eating lardy cakes, carving into trees with their bayonet knives, and knocking on locals’ doors asking if their pants could be washed. dick winters walked down toward the field in his dress uniform, brasses shining.
you didn’t like being so far from home. every time you remembered how far, you shocked your own body, mere thoughts being thousands of volts. innards trembling, and warmth unable to grab hold of you, you tormented yourself with how aware you were. the world was at war. who would win? will i die? how long will i be fighting?
you tried to distract yourself by naming the colors in the morning sky.
sunrise, orange juice spilled onto the blue fabric of the sky, peeked over its blanket of green with tired eyes. sunrise remembered greeting life every morning with warm colors, but now it had to say goodbye too often each day. life bled from hundreds, thousands; too much red for the earth like too many strawberries for a stomach.
only the sunrise would see how many bodies were left behind, and you wondered who would get to go home. who would be the lucky few?
but this wounded world was still giving moments of wonder and joy. you had found someone.
the hell of camp toccoa bonded both of you like complimenting colors being sewn into a picture. you and him had felt the same needle, the hand gripping it being sobel’s. he had an image of the perfect company of soldiers, and it didn’t matter how much he twisted or stretched beyond limits, because it worked in the end. the screaming eagle would trademark history, and you were proud to wear it even if you were just a small thread among others.
you saw him, johnny martin, the man who opened the sun in your heart. he walked toward you, arms tucked behind his back. the sun gilded his eyes, and he smiled ear to ear, disarming you completely.
“hey, cookie.”
you held your chin high, smirking at what he was hiding behind him. “what have you got there?”
he revealed a tawny box tied with thick string. “i got you something. i remember you mentioning it before...i hope you like it.” he handed the gift box up to you.
“johnny,” you said, taken aback. “you shouldn’t have. you didn’t use your jump pay did you?”
he rested his arms on the stone wall, leaning forward. “it was worth it.” he winked.
eyeing him playfully, you pulled the bow, unraveling it and removing the box’s lid. your heart fumbled with its beats, and you had a telltale pinch in your eyes. inside was a stuffed animal, but it was much more than that. it was your childhood.
as if picking up a day old baby, you gingerly took the black scottie dog out. the bell on the yellow ribbon tied around the neck spoke in a clear, melodic tone—as though in greeting after so long.
vision blurred, a lump bobbed in your throat. you had lost your scottie dog years ago, and as a child you used to carry it everywhere. you had believed it was alive in some way. on cold nights, you’d tuck it under its own blanket. you’d brush the fur from its eyes, thinking it couldn’t see otherwise.
even when your love left its fur matted and eyes scratched and cloudy, you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
“i found it in an antique shop in the village,” johnny said.
“johnny martin.” gripping the scottie dog, you hopped down from the stone wall and wrapped your arms around johnny’s neck, molding yourself to him. “i’ve already won this war by having found you.”
he buried his face in the warm curve of your neck, lips warm against your skin. “and i’ve won the world.”
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WORK FOR THAT
Prompt: Requested, by a lovely anon. Hope you’ll like it, sweetie
Word Count: Long-ish
Pairings: Rhea Ripley x Reader
Warnings: +18, smut, oral sex, dirty talk
Editor: @thenightmareismyreality
Tag: @sassymox , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @yungbludjazz360 , @placeoffreedom
Notes: If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist 😉
“I think she’s into you” Asuka smirked, as she stared at Rhea, who was sitting down in one of the catering tables behind me “You should’ve seen the way she was eating you up with her eyes when you were interviewing Drew earlier” She giggled
“She is something! But also seems like trouble, so uh, no thanks” I laughed
“Come on, Y/N, how much trouble could a one night stand cause?”
“A lot when you know that it probably wouldn’t be a one time thing!”
“Oh” She smirked “And why is that?”
“Do you know me at all? If you think I could ride that face only one time and that’s it, then you don’t know me as much as I thought you did! Have you seen her? She looks like she knows exactly how to eat a pussy, ok?”
“I sure can” Rhea whispered in my ear “And if you ever want a free test drive” She slid a piece of paper on top of the table “Let me know, so I can prove it to you”
She stepped back towards the door, when she reached the doorway, she turned around and mischievously stuck her tongue out at me, the piercing in the middle catching the light
“I fucking hate you” I slapped Asuka’s arm
“Ouch” She dramatically screamed “You’re welcome! And let me know if she means it” She laughed when I got up from the table to go to the bathroom, so I could splash some water on my now burning face
……………………………………………….
My phone buzzed on top of the hotel bedroom’s nightstand
Rhea 😈: Good morning, gorgeous. When will you stop being so stubborn and come here to get that free test drive? 👅
Y/N 🍑: In your dreams, Ripley
Rhea 😈: C’mon, princess… Don’t pretend like you don’t want to 😏
Y/N 🍑: It’s not a matter of wanting, it’s a matter of doing what’s right
Rhea 😈: Exactly! And what’s right is for you to come to room 635 right now and ride my face 👅💦
Y/N 🍑: 🤦♀️ You’re no good...I gotta go now, I need to shower
Rhea 😈: Can I join you? You know, just in case you need some help of course 😇
Y/N 🍑: Yeah, that’s exactly why you want to join me 🤥
…………………………………………………
Later that day as I was heading to hair and makeup, I heard someone wolf whistling at me. I turned around to find the blonde and female version of the Devil, right behind me
“You scared me”
“Sorry, princess” Rhea leaned against the wall “I just had the perfect view of your ass and fuck, it looks so good that I couldn’t help myself” She smiled
“You are so filthy” I tried to hold back my laugh
“But you love it, don’t you?” She roamed closer “I know you wanna laugh” She teased “Or at least giggle”
She dipped her head down towards my neck, nuzzling her nose against my skin
“You drive me crazy” She mumbled
“Rhea...” My words died on my lips when her arms circled around my waist and her hands rested against my ass, pulling me even closer to her
“I know you’re playing hard to get, but I’m reaching my limit here” Her hands caressed my ass “I’m starting to wonder if I’m doing the right thing, because it feels like I’m pushing you into wanting something you’re not in the mood for”
“You’re not doing anything wrong” I caressed the back of her neck and let my nails lightly scratch her scalp, which made her growl
“So I’m not overstepping here?” She asked
“No, you’re not”
She lifted her head up, and tightened her grip around my waist
“So you won’t mind if I do this?” She leaned down, brushing her lips against mine, testing the waters but also giving me a chance to pull back if I wanted to.
When she realized I wasn’t going to stop her, she fully captured my lips in a breathtaking kiss. Biting my bottom lip, until it slid out of her teeth. I opened my eyes to find a dumb smile glued to her lips
“Oh, you like me” She teased, kissing my lips once more “You like me a lot” She smirked
“You’re so childish” I cackled, as an intense pink shade took over my cheeks
“And you’re blushing?” She hugged me tightly “You really like me” She attacked my neck with several nips, making me squirm and laugh loudly
“You’re so cute together” We heard Asuka say, as she passed by our side in the hallway
We both startled when we heard her voice “Fuck, I thought it was boss lady” Rhea chuckled
“I know, I almost shit in my pants thinking I was going to be fired” I laughed along with her
“Come get dinner with me tonight?”
“I don’t know, Ree...I don’t like to think someone can take a picture of us together and put it on the internet, just so then people can say that I got this job because of you”
“But you didn’t!”
“Yes, but you know how people are, they just assume things, and suddenly fiction becomes truth, even when it’s the farthest thing from it
“Ok...my hotel room then? We can order some room service, have a chit chat, make out” She growled playfully
“That’s all you want me for?” I teased
“No” She giggled “But I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you either! I feel very attracted to you and would love if we had sex, but that’s not the main reason why I like you”
One of the things I loved the most about Rhea was her raw honesty, she’s always one to tell you the truth, no matter how harsh or sappy it is
“Ok, I accept your invitation”
“Really?” She smiled widely, spinning me around the hallway
“Rhea, you’re gonna make us fall!” I laughed
……………………………………………………….
“It looks fine, Y/N!” Asuka said, chewing on a handful of popcorn
“Right” I rolled my eyes in annoyance, staring at the full length mirror in front of me “It displays my pouch beautifully” I poked my belly
“First of all, you’re beautiful! Stop putting yourself down like that!” She stood up from her bed and stopped by my side “Secondly, you could be wearing a trash bag and Rhea still would think you are the most beautiful woman on the earth! Trust me, I know what I’m saying” She smirked
“You heard her say something?” I asked, hopeful
“I heard a thing or two” She smiled wickedly “But I’m not telling you anything!” She laughed when I scowled
…………………………………………………………
I knocked on her door, already regretting my choice for an outfit (which basically consisted of a pair of yoga pants, with a loose crop top shirt and some sneakers), but before I could run back to my room and change outfits, she opened the door and her whistle was what made me get out of my self deprecation daydream.
“Fuck, you look hot” She smirked
See what I meant about the raw honesty?
Shaking my head while chuckling, I said “Thanks”
She offered me her hand, pulled me inside her bedroom and pressed me against the closed door, kissing me as if her life depended on it
“What happened with the ‘food first, sex later’ rule?” I laughed, as she pulled me towards her
“That was before you showed up at my door looking like this” She smacked my ass “This is your fault, princess, not mine” She hugged me tightly
I stepped away from her, turned around and walked towards the bed, giving her the perfect view of my ass in the light grey yoga pants
Do I know my ass looks insanely good in those pants? Yes!
Did I do it on purpose? Hell yes!
When I reached the bed, I placed myself in all fours on top of it, wiggled my ass in the air and looked over my shoulder at her
“Come, Rhea” I purred, and cackled at the low growl she made
She ran towards the bed, grabbed my hips and pushed me down on the mattress, locking me there with her body weight
“You’re in some big trouble, missy”
“Am I? What did I do?” I batted my lashes innocently
She chuckled “You’re no good, woman!” Her hands dipped underneath my crop top, and grabbed my breasts through the bra “And to think I was worried about corrupting you, when in fact you’re as dirty as I am” Her tongue traced patterns along my neck
“Rhea, please” I moaned
She pushed my pants down, but suddenly stopped to sit up
“Where are your panties?” She smirked
“Oh damn it! I knew I was forgetting something” I smiled devilishly
“Fuck” She panted, dipping her head down to my core
I sighed deeply in content, when her tongue met my clit “You’re so fucking good” I looked down and she winked. My hand quickly grabbed her short blonde locks at the same time she pushed two fingers in
“Oh my fucking -” I pulled on her hair when her fingers inside of me curled and her lips began to suck on my clit
I looked down to find her gaze glued to my face “I’m gonna cum” I moaned “Fuck you’re gonna make me cum so good” I bit my lip in order to control my moans
The next touch of her tongue piercing against my bundle of nerves was what made me explode around her fingers.
Rhea’s fingers and tongue actions became softer and softer as I came down from my high. Smiling, she made her way up, towards my lips and kissing me softly
“Why are you so good at this?” I asked, completely mind blown
“Told you I could eat pussy” She chuckled
“Fuck, I think you ruined me” I panted
“Oh no, princess” She grinned “I’m not even close to ruining you yet”
Please, if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘
#rhea ripley imagine#rhea ripley#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley smut#wwe x reader#wwe smut#wwe imagine#wwe fanfiction#wwe one shot#wwe superstars#masochist writes
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Good Girl, Bad Boy (Pt. 10 of 15)
Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader
Word count: 2.3 K
Summary: You're the extreme opposite of Billy Hargrove. The good girl, with perfect grades, the child every mother wants to have. And you don't want to have nothing to do with his kind. Ignoring Billy – and his constant, lingering stare – became an habit. But after you're put together for a special school program, you'll have no choice but to get along with him. And soon enough you'll find out that Billy is so much more than just Hawkins' bad boy.
<-Previous part (09)
Next part (11) ->
A/N: This part was inspired on the song Treacherous by Taylor Swift
{Stranger Things Masterlist}
{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}
×
Treacherous
You can't believe you let Billy convince you into this. These parties were never your thing. They usually happen during the week, and on the next day, you can see the effects on those who went. Today is Saturday, but even so.
Maybe it was Billy's intense stare, or how he smiled and caressed your cheek as he asked you to go with him... Or how he said he wouldn't go without you because there would be no point.
Sighing, you look at yourself in the mirror, blushing at the memories. Your hair is styled with some waves, and they flow down your shoulders. The dress you choose is tight, perfectly hugging your body. Not too tight though, as the dresses Stacy and her friends wear. It's decent and delicate, pink and black... And you wonder if Billy will like it.
“(Y/N), Billy is here!” Your mother yells and you sigh, fixing your hair and leaving the bathroom.
Once you put the high heels on, you take your purse and go downstairs. Billy is seated on the couch, but his eyes find you immediately, and he stands up. “Hey.” You mutter, walking over a very weird Billy. He has his mouth half-open, eyes scanning your body. “Have you lost something?” Trying to keep the sassy tone, you cross your arms, heat spreading through your cheeks.
“I just never saw you on a dress before and...” He sighs, eyes meeting yours and a smirk coming to his lips. “You're stunning.”
Biting your lip, you look down, taking in the leather jacket and the red shirt underneath, which has a lot of buttons left open. “You look good too.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair. “Shall we go?”
“Sure.” Nodding, you start walking to the front door.
“(Y/N).” Your mother calls, and when you turn around, she's standing by the kitchen door frame. “Be back by ten, alright?”
Silently, you nod before waving and walking out.
The ride to the party is filled with small talk. Billy keeps stealing glances, a small smile that never leaves his lips.
Once you get there, a house you don't even know who lives in, you raise your eyebrows as you walk in. The music is loud, but the people are louder. The place is crowded, and you wouldn't want to be the one to clean this place after.
“So, what do you think?” Billy asks, mouth close to your ear.
“It's very loud!” You tell him, and someone bumps on you, making your shoulder collapse on his chest.
Billy gives someone a hard stare before looking down at you. “Wanna dance?”
“Yeah.”
“Come.” He takes your hand, guiding you to the living room, which has the furniture all moved, creating an open space. There are a lot of people here already, but they move aside for Billy. A lot of eyes lay on you, but you ignore them. “I don't even know if you can dance, pretty girl.”
“Oh, I do.” Smirking at him, you wrap your arms around his neck, and start moving.
Billy raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed as his hands encircle your waist. You're very, very close, and you can feel all of his body. Your cheeks burn, the proximity making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. The heels do make you closer to his lips, but still, he'd have to bend down to kiss you.
Kissing Billy Hargrove. You never thought you'd want to do such thing.
But here you are now, dancing with him, spinning around and colliding your back against his chest as his arms hold you close, moving to the hectic beat. And it's perfect, amazing. Not because of the party, but because of him. You want to be like this forever, in his arms.
“You? Here?” The voice, very familiar breaks through your stupor, and you come back to Earth. Steve raises an eyebrow, purposely ignoring the man holding you. “I could never convince you to come to these parties. Not even when we were dating.”
Billy gets tense behind you, arms holding you a bit tighter. “Well, that was because I never had a good reason to come. Now I do.” Shrugging your shoulders, you gesture at Billy. “Where's your girl?”
“Bathroom.” He says, looking around. “There she is. Gotta go.” He steps away, but stops suddenly, eyes focusing on Billy for the first time. “You try anything with her I–”
“Steve, go.” Cutting him off, you speak up. “I'll be alright, Billy treats me well.”
“He better do.” With one last angry stare, Steve walks away, and you breathe out, relieved.
“I'll get you something to drink,” Billy says, letting go of you. You turn around, giving him a look. “A soda. Just soda.” Smiling, he raises both hands in defeat. “I know you well, pretty girl.”
“Alright. I'll check the backyard.”
“I'll meet you there,” Billy says and you nod, starting to make your way through the people.
The backyard isn't empty, but it's not crowded as the house is. Blame it on the cold. It's freezing, and you wish you had brought a jacket. The yard is cute though. A single three and some wooden tables scattered around. There's a bench under the tree, so you sit there bracing yourself and rubbing your arms.
“Hi.” Someone says, and you find Tyler coming to join you on the bench. “You look absolutely amazing.”
“Thanks.” His tone sounds weird, and you move away from him a little.
“People didn't use to notice you, but they sure are now. And God, you're so beautiful.” He says, and you give him a confused glance. Why is he saying this? “How did you manage to stay invisible for so long?”
Furrowing your eyebrows, you shrug your shoulders. “Because I'm not the type of girl guys like you pay attention to. And now that I'm with Billy–"
“You're with Billy?” He cuts you off, eyes following a small group of people walking by. “Is it official?”
“Mmm... We're... We're hanging out.”
“There's a big difference, see...” Tyler moves closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You immediately shake his hand away, but he keeps it on the backrest of the bench. “Because if you're with Billy, your off-limits. And if you're not... Well, I can have a shot with you.” Tyler run his fingers through your shoulder, all the way to the back of your neck. So you get up, not even trying to seem polite.
“I'm not interested, Tyler.” Bracing yourself from the cold, you look down at him.
“Look, you know Billy won't keep you. Save yourself a broken heart.”
“(Y/N),” Billy calls and you thank the heavens. Turning around, you find Billy coming your way. “Tyler.” He says in a weird, plain tone.
“Billy.”
“Here.” He hands you over the can of soda, eyebrows furrowed. “Everything alright?”
“Sure,” Tyler speaks before you can, a humorless laugh escaping his lips.
“Wasn't talking to you.” He snaps, eyes coming to look at you.
“I'm fine.” With a half-smile, you tell him, craking the can open and taking a sip.
“Mmm.” Billy mumbers, and you can read the question in his eyes. “Here.” He says at the same time he starts taking his jacket off. “You're cold.”
“I'm not, really.” You protest, but he puts the jacket around your shoulders anyway. “I mean it, B. You'll be cold.”
“I'm alright.” He assures you. “And come. Let's get out of here.” Without giving Tyler a second glance, Billy guides you away, and you don't even try to resist.
You thought he was driving you home, but instead, he took you to a snack bar, where he bought you ice cream. And here, leaning against his car in the almost empty parking lot, you're having more fun than you were back at the party. The night is a bit cold, but the sensation Billy brings out makes you warm.
“Did Tyler say anything?” He asks, putting his empty plastic ice cream cup on the hood of his car.
“No, just... He said I'm pretty, that you'll break my heart so I should give him a chance.” Shrugging your shoulders, you look down, putting your cup next to his before pushing yourself up, sitting on the hood of his Camaro. “But don't mind him. Nobody else knows what happens between us.”
“I won't break your heart. I'm scared you will break mine.” Billy says, a nervous giggle leaving his lips. “(Y/N), I...” He comes closer, his hand, on the hood, touching your leg. Then you fold a leg under yourself, your body leaning closer to him. It happens involuntary, as a need you have you didn't even know was there. “I use to act and think and feel like I was unbreakable. But you... You made me weak.” It comes out as a plead, and Billy ends the little distance between you two. His face is too close, and his blue eyes are everything you see as his hand comes to caress your cheek. “I'm completely at your mercy. I'll do anything you say”
You've never been this close to Billy. And yet, you want more. The whole world is out of focus, and even the gravity is too much. Your heart needs him, it wants him. “Put your lips close to mine...” Your voice is barely a whisper, as your mind tries to win the fight over your heart. You'd be smart to walk away, but Billy is quicksand. He pulls you in. His kindness, gentleness... His touch, his voice, his eyes... Every single thing draws you closer. “As long as they don't touch...”
“I'm in love with you,” Billy says, eyes never leaving yours. “I've been since I saw you for the first time but it only got stronger. When we're close, I want to kiss you, and touch you and look at you... And when I see you walking away all I can hear is the sound of my own voice asking you to stay.”
A smile takes over your lips. He's confessing it, he's saying it with all the words. Billy's heart is open... And he loves you. “Everyone warns me about you. They tell me not to fall for the bad boy and sometimes it scares me but... Your name has echoed through my mind and I just think you should know.” Holding on the collar of his shirt, just to make sure he'll stay close, you look at his lips. “But nothing safe is worth the drive so...”
“(Y/N)...” He says, begs, pleads.
“This path is reckless... Treacherous... But I like it.”
And it's settled. You want him. And when Billy loses control, when he kisses you, you surrender. His lips taste like ice cream at first, but soon after all you can taste is him. And it's amazing, indescribable, inebriating. You've never kissed someone like that, you never wanted to kiss someone like that, and now you know why.
You've been waiting to kiss Billy all along.
And when you have to pull away, he holds you close, forehead touching as you both catch your breathes. The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable. It's the silence of two people in love enjoying each other's company.
“So...” Billy says after a while, his thumb caressing your lower lip. “I believe we're dating now.”
The different tone makes you laugh, playfully pushing him away and jumping off the hood. “What makes you think that?”
“A good girl like you wouldn't kiss someone she's not dating.”
“I'll make an exception for you...” With a smirk, you open the passenger door. “We can go back to the party if you want.”
“No way. I'm taking you home.” Billy gestures for you to get inside, closing the door for you.
“Are you for real?” You ask as he starts the car.
“Yup.”
“You know my mother isn't home, right? She wouldn't even know.” Putting the seat belt on, you look at Billy. He has a smile on. The kind of smile you've never seen before.
“No, I want to make things right this time.” He glances at you, and your eyes fall on his lips, making you want to kiss him again.
Blushing, you nod, looking at the road ahead. “Alright.”
On the ride home, you listen to some music. And as he speeds through the streets, you sing out loud. Some people look with an angry face, eyebrows furrowed, but it only makes you sing louder. You're happy, like you never felt before.
The song is only turned off when he stops by your house, and you step out of the car. Billy walks you to your front door, and you stop there, turning to face him.
“I had fun tonight.” You tell him, a hand on the door handle, but with no intention of going inside.
“So did I.” He mutters in a low voice, stepping closer. Despite the high heels, he's still taller, so you raise your head to look at him. The darkness hides you both from curious eyes, and it makes you brave enough to move closer, holding on to his shirt.
“You know that if I cross the door with this jacket I won't give it back anymore, right?” You whisper, a smile on your lips.
“Take it, it's yours.” He whispers back, a hand caressing your cheek. “The jacket... My heart...” And he kisses you again, slowly, allowing you to feel the warmth of his lips and mouth against the cold of the night.
But he pulls away too soon, and you sigh. “What?”
“It's past ten, pretty girl. Get inside.” He places a kiss on your forehead, reaching behind you and pushing the door open. “See you tomorrow at school.”
“Good night, B.” Smiling, you turn around and step inside, but the door remains open until his car disappears down the street.
×
@multific @tina1938 @graciehams @moatsnow @all-the-stars-on-your-skin @captain039 @rebelemilu @theodore-likes-frogs @prettyinpunk85 @taisab02 @pascal-rascal424 @aleksanderblack @gruffle1
#billy hargrove fanfiction#imagine billy hargrove#billy hargrove imagine#imagine stranger things#imagine billy Hargrove#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x reader#billy stranger things imagine#billy stranger things#billy stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things imagine
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Nightmare
pairing || Bucky Barnes x Reader
summary || Bucky struggles to calm down after a particularly rough nightmare - it’s a good thing you’re there to lend him a hand.
word count || 1,799
warnings || hurt and comfort, love confessions
a/n || So I started writing this before the first episode of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier even came out (because I’m incorrigible) so if it’s a little off, that’s why. As someone who’s gone through all that fun trauma-based therapy, seeing Bucky working on himself is validating as fuck. I tried to emphasize that while a good relationship can help after trauma, it doesn’t complete the healing process or suddenly make a person whole. Anyway, enjoy!
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“Bucky?” Your voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Why are you on the floor?”
“I…” Bucky started but his words failed him. He couldn’t find a way to tell you about it without feeling like he was gutting himself, without bringing the images right back up to torment him all over again. The vulnerability left him trembling, dog tags clinking quietly against his bare chest with every heaving breath.
But he didn’t need to say it. You just nodded and sat down next to him on the blanket he had spread out on the hard floor. Remnants still prickled at the back of his neck, images and echoes of gunfire and that wide open emptiness that cracked his chest on every mission, but he got some small peace from your presence. He felt just a bit safer at the feeling of your knee pressed to his lightly. You didn’t probe him about it, didn’t try to weasel out details, and he was thankful. Instead you offered him your hand and in turn, offered your quiet support, and he gratefully slid his fingers up your palm to curl with your own.
The pressure of your fingers holding him was grounding, kept him in the reality of what was actually happening around him. He wasn’t in that building. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. He wasn’t trapped behind a wall in his own mind. He was at home, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor. He held your hand in his, the softness of your skin against his a sharp contrast to the imagined bite of gunmetal.
He was right there. So were you.
Your thumb slid up and down over his as you tentatively started speaking. “I used to click my tongue to keep myself grounded after nightmares.”
Bucky glanced at you, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
“Yeah, I know it seems silly, but it worked for me more often than not.” You said with a small chuckle. “Sometimes I would have to tap if the clicking thing wasn’t working. It drove Tony crazy. He always said he could hear it all throughout the compound, but I think he was bullshitting. And if the tapping didn’t work, I would do sprints until my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore.”
Bucky took a long, deep breath the way his therapist taught him during their first session. Your voice was so calming. “Keep talking?”
“Of course.” You murmured. “It’s cheesy as hell, but they do get easier to deal with. The nightmares, I mean. The more you work at it, the less… vivid they are. I still get pretty bad ones every now and then, but even those are a little easier to come down from.”
“I hope you’re right.” He said.
“Well, you’re in therapy - even if it’s mandatory, you’re still showing up. Still putting in the effort. You’re sleeping semi-regularly, eating somewhat healthy. Trust me, you’re doing better than you realize. It takes a minute for you to ease out of survival mode, so it can be hard to tell how far you’ve already come.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m proud of you, Bucky.”
A breath caught in his chest as he turned to look at you where you leaned your head back against the wall. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“Well, you did save me from getting shot that one time.” You teased and Bucky laughed quietly, a genuine one that seemed to surprise you. “But seriously. You’re a good person, that’s all you have to do.”
“No, I’m not.” The laugh turned self-deprecating. “I don’t have to tell you that, either. I know you’ve read the files.”
“That wasn’t you. That was Hydra.” Your free hand pressed against his bare chest, right over his heart. “This is you. You aren’t what they put in your head. You’re the person who went out and bought me a new coffeemaker in the middle of the night when mine broke so I wouldn’t have to go without caffeine the next morning. You’re the person who's mowed Mrs. Franklin’s yard twice a month since her husband passed. You’re the person who is working their ass off to get better.”
There weren’t words. He didn’t have them, the ones that could tell you how much he appreciated you, how much you meant to him. So he covered the hand you placed on his chest with his own, wishing he could actually feel you, but the prosthetic had its limitations with the enhancements given by the vibranium. You nodded at him, a quiet acknowledgement of his thanks.
Silence fell over you both. It was a comfortable one, not the heavy, oppressive silence that curled around him in the moments after waking. Your hand fell away from his chest, much to his disappointment. The skin against skin was comforting. A moment later you shifted onto your knees, ready to stand and seemingly leave him there, and Bucky tightened his grip on your hand instinctually.
“Please… don’t go.” His voice was small.
“I’m just going to get you some water. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
And you did. You returned less than a minute later and handed him a glass of cool water, watching him take a few sips until you were satisfied, and then stole a sip for yourself. Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that found him at the sight as you settled back in next to him and offered him your hand once more. He took it, but didn’t interlock your fingers like before. Instead he lifted your hand to his face and pressed your palm against his cheek, eyes falling closed at your cool skin against his warmth. Your thumb rubbed small circles along his cheekbone and when he opened his eyes again, you were looking at him almost thoughtfully. Impulsively, Bucky tilted his head slightly and kissed the delicate skin of your wrist and he could hear your breath stutter in your chest.
“Bucky…” You whispered, worry suddenly played across your features.
“I talk about you in therapy, you know.” He whispered, his heart jumping in his chest at the prospect of telling you about it, admitting his vulnerability. “I told her about how you make me feel… seen. And safe. I told her about how I always think about you. About… kissing you. And making you laugh.”
You swallowed, the sound louder in the resounding silence of three a.m confessions. “And what did she say?”
“That she could tell I was in love with you before I would even admit it to myself.” He whispered the words as if breathing them to life would make the very earth crumble at his feet.
“I couldn't live with myself if I got in the way of your healing.” You said and his heart soared in his chest. You weren't rejecting him, weren't pulling away in disgust or fear. No, you were putting his needs first - or rather, what you perceived his needs to be.
“Part of my healing is supposed to be building relationships, you know.” There was a small smile on his face at the very thought of it - of falling asleep and waking next to you each morning, of finally getting to kiss and touch you like he craved for so long.
“So… we take it slow?” You said and Bucky watched your eyes flick down to his lips before meeting his gaze again, your body leaning closer as if drawn in by the very gravity that held you to the earth.
“Yeah, we take…” Bucky leaned in, meeting you halfway, your lips a hairsbreadth apart. “...it…” You brushed your nose against his gently and he sighed contentedly, eyes finally falling closed. “...slow…”
The first press of your lips to his was soft. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, the simple pleasure of a kiss, and the fact that it was you only made it all the better. He relaxed against you, pulling you closer by a hand on your waist and angling himself to deepen the kiss. Your gasp against his lips was addictive, something he could happily spend the rest of his life seeking out.
A shudder ran down Bucky’s spine at the feeling of your hand sliding up from his cheek to tangle in his hair, the short cropped style barely enough for you to grab onto. Fuck, you felt so good, he could lose himself in you without regret, could drown in the bliss that washed over him and -
He pulled away gently, offering one last peck against your lips as a parting gift, and pressed his forehead to yours to catch his breath, to calm himself down. He had to go slow and going slow decidedly was not dragging you onto his living room floor and finally letting his hands roam underneath your soft pajamas. You chuckled quietly and that was what got him to lean back and look at you again, dumbstruck by the dazed, happy look on your face.
“You’re good at that,” You whispered, earning you a bashful laugh.
“So are you.” Bucky sighed, the heavy weight of sleepiness gathering at his shoulders. “I need to try to go back to sleep… join me?��
“I think this floor would kill my back, sweetheart.” You teased and holy shit, his heart soared in his chest.
Sweetheart. He was your sweetheart.
“I was thinking we could share my bed, but if you’re gonna tease me -”
“Don’t even finish that sentence, Barnes.” You surprised him with another kiss before climbing to your feet, your hand reaching out to pull him up with you.
He couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sight of you climbing into his bed, settling right into his rumpled sheets and looking up at him expectantly. He wasn’t going to leave you waiting, not when he finally got you right where he wanted you. You yawned as you brought him closer to lay his head against your chest and he melted right into you. Bucky curled his arm around your middle, effectively bringing your bodies completely flush against each other.
“You’re so warm, Buck.” You mumbled, sleepiness already warping your voice.
Bucky just hummed, his own exhaustion finally seeping back into his body now that the remnants of paranoid tension eased away at the steady sound of your heartbeat reverberating against his ear. Your hand rested against the top of his head to tease at his hair once more, and it was that gentle affection that had his eyes falling closed. At peace for the moment, his mind let him fall back into sleep, knowing that when the nightmares inevitably found him once more, he would have you there to help guide him back to where he belonged.
Right in your arms.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#marvel#marvel fanfiction#james buchanan barnes#the falcon and the winter soldier
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Last Seen Blogs
stullynger
Art universe
lunar-motel
GABY
straybard
Spaceships, Sorcery, and Stories
sailoreddy
Sailor Eddy
birman-ink
Birman Ink